#even if the time police put everything back in five minutes

[sketchy-panda]

I had to draw this post by @barbaricjester because they need this hug

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere with a unknown identity

A helping hand

Yandere policeman x F!reader Warning: Manipulation, mentions of not believing the victim. Summary: Right after your encounter with the masked man (This part), you head out and find yourself with an officer who strongly feels that he should be the one to help you.

The masked man had just left when it dawned on you what happened. Violated and angry you grab the money he left behind and hurry down to whatever garbage chute you could find. You had barely time to put your clothes on before you were out the door. It's late and only the sound of your footsteps can be heard. 

It's first when you step outside of the apartment building and the cold air hits you that you come to your senses. Today has been horrible and it seems that your bad luck is not over yet. Considering your options you come to the conclusion that you don't want to stay and the walk to one of your friends' apartments is not long. You sigh as you know you will have to tell her what happened. Something you don't initially want, but what other options do you really have? 

You dont walk for long before a police car spots you. You can imagine how odd you must look walking around with a stack of money and dressed in your pajamas. 

The two officers consist of a tall rather young man and a middle aged plump woman. With the lack of anything else to tell them, you explain what has happened to you. The unfiltered truth as to where you got the money from and why you are out on the streets dressed so poorly. Both the man and woman listen intently to your story and when you are done the woman says. 

“Okay, listen, we will solve this. I just have to make a call to the surrounding officers. But Kenny will keep an eye on you, understand?” The plump woman tells you before she returns to the car. Her face is turned away from the both of you as she talks into the comms. A minute goes by in silence. Then two. Then five and she is still talking. For every minute passing worry grows. 

Then around the corner speeds another police car in and stops on the other side of the road. A young blond man jumps out, his uniform looks slightly untidy as if he had just thrown them on. He gives a nod to Kenny before he heads for the woman in the car. They talk quietly for a moment before he walks up to the both of you. 

“I'll take over from here officer McCall.” I can't help but feel like Kenny is letting out a sigh of relief as he heads back to the car. Before they drive off the woman rolls down her window and tells you.  

“If you need more help, ask for Officer Reese.” You nod to her before they drive off. The man beside you lets out a sigh and nods in the direction that they drove off at.

“Some officers truly need more than just reprimands.” He says and shakes his head. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I'm going to be truly honest with you. Officer Reese had not so good intentions regarding how to handle your little…issue. But I won't go into detail about that.” He takes a deep breath before he places a hand on your shoulder and continues. “And the other officers won't help you either, I know how shallow they can be. But I want to help.” 

“Her, Officer Reese, she won't help me? I thought…” 

“She just said that to make you feel better. In reality she was talking about the loony bin over the comms.”

Your stomach turns at his words and you have to turn away, just to gather yourself. 

“But I will help.” He continues. 

“You would?” 

“Yes, but I think it's better if we keep it between us two, are you fine with that?” You nod and take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions together. 

“Good, how about I drive you back to your apartment and you tell me in detail everything that happened.” 

“I… I don't know if I want to be at home right now.” You say hesitantly. 

“Don't worry, honey. I'm patrolling these streets and I'll make sure no man gets even close to you.” He says and places his arm around you. “Aren't you cold? Come let's continue talking in the car.” He says as he leads you to his car. 

“Well, if you're helping, do you have any access to something that you could find fingerprints with?” 

“Eh, sure, but what are you going to use that for?” He asks as he leads you over the street. 

“For these, I thought maybe you could get his fingerprints, oh well, mine will be here too, but…” He laughs and carefully takes the money from you. 

“If you don't want to use it for yourself then sure I can have a look.” 

“Oh and by the way. I never caught your name.” 

“It's Robert, Officer Robert Finch.”

[thatgirlonstage]

Okay I’m too tired to keep listening to Dark Heir but I’ve got a whole bus ride home so I’m going to spin Black Butler thoughts at you all.

(Idk how coherent this is, I’m sorry if it’s rambly my brain is SO dead but it wants to Talk so)

I’m thinking about… the gradual build of Sebastian’s fear that he could actually lose Ciel, as we go:

The asthma attack in Circus Arc: not ultimately serious, but a danger to Ciel’s wellbeing Sebastian had not been aware of and cannot easily fix

The fight on the Campania, where Sebastian is very seriously injured himself, to the point where he’s in danger of losing Ciel to Undertaker because he can’t physically stop him from being taken,

Which leads into THIS fucking moment in school arc:

which is entirely fueled by Sebastian’s fear that Undertaker will snatch Ciel out from under him, AGAIN, because he did it before

AND THEN GREEN WITCH ARC HAPPENS, where Sebastian gets within literal minutes of losing Ciel to the gas, and WOULD HAVE if Sieglinde hadn’t been there or hadn’t been willing to help them

And still in Green Witch Arc, even AFTER Ciel has physically survived, Sebastian nearly loses him anyway because he backslides so dramatically into a PTSD episode that it nearly voids their contract

All of which is why by the time you get to the Blue Cult Arc, Sebastian is so genuinely afraid he might not be able to protect Ciel that the scent of blood from a single needle prick makes him do. This.

And now, with bizarre dolls getting ever more advanced and better at hiding from Sebastian’s senses and the whole police force mobilized against them, I’m very ready for Sebastian in Brighton to be doing everything short of wrapping Ciel in 19th century bubble wrap. I’ll frankly be shocked if he lets Ciel out of his sight for more than five minutes.

But the thing is. The thing is. Narratively, there isn’t much further you can ratchet up the stakes for Sebastian (at least until you get to the moment of truth with the contract and eating his soul, which is a different conversation). Ciel being put in danger or hurt again isn’t going to do all that much to alter their relationship at this point. Sebastian is already about as whipped as the poor guy can get.

What would be a change, is Ciel nearly losing Sebastian.

There’s been—for obvious reasons—much less risk and fear on that front. There has been some build for it:

Red Butler Arc, encountering reapers, Ciel sees Sebastian fight an enemy who can actually hold their own against him for the first time (and while I don’t think this is confirmed, I suspect Grell’s chainsaw eating his shoulder is the first time Ciel sees him get injured for real (as opposed to allowing himself to get shot and playing dead just for the sake of being a dramatic bitch))

Curry Arc, Agni successfully fights Sebastian to a tie (which is why I’m VERY interested to see if Soma turns back up in the Brighton arc as well, feat. angry Kali powers)

[The murder arc is a fake out, because Ciel knows he’s fine the whole time]

On the Campania, Ciel sees him get very badly injured. This is the one and only time Ciel has real cause to fear for Sebastian’s safety, as such.

And since then, while Sebastian isn’t quite untouchable, he hasn’t really suffered any serious injury or physical danger to himself. There have been defeats or fights that didn’t end perfectly for him—such as the school arc fight—but Sebastian hasn’t been existentially threatened. Ciel, I think, still has pretty high confidence that worst case scenario, Sebastian can always just pick him up and make a run for it (indeed, part of the reason things got so bad on the Campania was because they were trapped on a boat). And even if Sebastian couldn’t save him, Ciel—to the extent it’s even occurred to him—doesn’t have a lot of reason to think he couldn’t save himself.

This is now the second time Ciel has lost everything—his title, his name, his home, his safety, his dignity and respect. The first time was worse, obviously, but he’s got to be feeling the similarities.

The first time, Sebastian pulled him out of his despair by offering him the power to escape.

Now, the second time, he at least still has Sebastian by his side. A Sebastian who is going to be laser-focused on protecting Ciel from all possible threats.

But what happens if Ciel thinks he might lose Sebastian too?

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 32 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is used to feeling comfortable around you, so when he arrives home and things feel strained, he wants to understand why. The more you tell him about what has you so upset, the more he wants to try to fix everything. But you don't know if he can do anything to mend your confidence.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Nat called and texted the next day to check in with you and Noah. It didn't matter how many times you lied and told her that you were just fine, she said she wanted to be sure. But you knew you were barely holding on, and the next two days without Bradley were going to be really hard. 

Because now it wasn't just the USB drive. It was also your hand. And the broken glass. And the way Noah cried. You were currently curled up in Bradley's bed with Noah sound asleep in your arms, and you didn't even want to go to work tomorrow. Your hand was aching, and the gash looked terrible. Even though you had done your best with it, you knew you should have gone for stitches. But you also knew it was too late for that now.

After a moment of contemplation, you decided to keep Noah in bed with you for the night. You opened up your email one more time with the arrival instructions from Bradley even though you had them memorized. But you didn't want to mess this up. 

When you got to work the next morning, while you were still trying to decide if you should report the break in, another layer of embarrassment was added. Dr. Kelly pulled you aside and glanced down at your hand as she said, "Would you like me to take a look at that?" 

You'd done a pretty terrible job of bandaging it up on your own. "Sure," you said softly, and she unwrapped it and winced.

"This didn't happen at work, did it?"

"No," you replied quickly. "At home."

She met your eyes with startled ones. "This is a nasty, irregular cut. You live with your boyfriend, correct?" When you nodded, she added, "If there's any sort of issue with... violence at home, please know that you can always come to me."

Your jaw dropped open, and you gasped. "No! He's not even here, he's deployed! It was an accident!"

"Okay," she said right away. "I believe you. Let me get it cleaned up. It's looking angry, and you should have probably gone somewhere for stitches over the weekend."

Instead of responding, you silently followed her to one of the exam rooms where she carefully disinfected your palm and applied an adhesive that would work on your skin. "I can reapply it later this week for you."

"Thanks." As you got back to work, you were starting to think you should have reported the incident with the police. Panic rose inside you as you were instructed to prepare some vaccination syringes for the ten year old in exam room five. 

Should you wait until Bradley got home on Wednesday? Should you call the police after work today? Your cut up hand was bad enough, but Noah could have been the one who got hurt. And you'd honestly never be able to forgive yourself if something happened to him. You had protected him from Meredith in the park, so why was this any different?

You rushed back to Bradley's house after work and ran inside, completely exasperated by his old man tendencies. You had to search for the list of phone numbers he gave you which would have been much better if he just saved them to your contacts in your phone.

Noah needed to be picked up in the next forty minutes, and you didn't know how long she would be in her office, but you tried to reach Tracy anyway. When you gave your name to her receptionist, you were shocked that he put you right through to Bradley's lawyer.

"I hope Bradley thanked you for me. The Red Bulls were very sweet of you."

You laughed at Tracy in spite of the fact that you felt like crying. "It's the least I could do." Then you took a deep breath and said, "I was wondering if there is any way you can help me? I don't want to end up with Bradley having to pay you if you give me advice over the phone or anything like that. But I think I need some help right now even though he should be back on Wednesday."

"Your boyfriend basically has me on retainer for you. What do you need?" Tracy asked.

"Retainer?" you asked. No, that couldn't be right.

"I was given explicit instructions to help you with anything you might call about. We're not going to worry about any billing, because he certainly wasn't worried, okay? What can I do for you?"

You sucked in a deep breath as you paced around the kitchen. You felt defeated. That damn USB drive was on top of the refrigerator. The coffee machine you could barely figure out how to use was on the counter. The list of phone numbers in Bradley's handwriting was on the table. So you walked out back and forced yourself to say, "I think Meredith broke into my rental which I had already moved out of. And I saw her at a gas station before that."

There was a long enough pause that you were about to repeat yourself, but then she said, "I think that if she did break into your rental, it was purely out of spite. Because I actually have some news about Meredith that I was waiting to tell Bradley. But I think you and I should have a conversation first, and then you should decide if you want to call the police."

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

Bradley just wanted to get off this aircraft carrier. He had one night left in this fucking bunk with Carl, and then he could go home to his cozy house and sweet son and your warm, welcoming body. Maybe you'd let him snuggle with you and Noah on the couch, and then after Noah's bedtime, he could take you to bed. He couldn't stop thinking about every single way he wanted to have you. And then he could fall asleep with you wrapped up in his arms and your soft breath on his skin.

He was almost getting hard just thinking about it. It had been a long time since he had someone to come home to, someone who was waiting just for him. He felt like he wanted to reward you for it. God, he wanted to give you everything. He had to tuck his hands up behind his head in his bunk and force himself to try to go to sleep. But he dreamed about your voice and your fingertips on his face.

The following day went quickly as they docked in the afternoon. Once he was able to text you, Bradley was pleased to see that you were more responsive.

I'm docked, Princess. We got in a little early, but I haven't deboarded yet. I know you're at work, but I can't wait to see you whenever you can come pick me up.

My Princess: I'll be there by four with Noah. We missed you so much!

When he was able to finally collect his things and start down the ramp, Bradley's heart was thudding in his ears. It wasn't four o'clock yet, and he knew he might have to wait for you to get there, but then he was pleasantly surprised. As he started walking along the fence to the parking lot, he spotted his Bronco in the last aisle. You had parked it away from everything and everything else, and that brought a smile to his face. 

And then he saw you, carrying Noah and hurrying toward him in your new work scrubs that he hadn't even seen yet. A smile broke out on his face as he rushed to close the distance. "Noah! Princess!"

"Daddy!" Noah squealed with delight, practically jumping from your arms to his. Bradley wrapped Noah up in his right arm and kissed him all over his face, reaching for you at the same time with his free hand. "I love you, Bub. Did you have fun with Princess?"

But you hesitated. And when Bradley met your eyes, he was still reaching for you, but you were only very slowly stepping toward him. "Come here," he rasped, slipping his arm around your waist until you were snug at his side. "I love you." Those words seemed to do the trick as you melted against him, and your chin tipped up as you looked at him.

"I missed you so much," you told him, your voice soft and maybe a little sad? And Bradley kissed you hard and heady in front of everyone including Noah, letting his hand rest on the swell of your butt. He didn't care. You belonged with him. He wanted you there forever. 

But even though you were clinging to his uniform shirt now and returning his kisses with a soft moan, he could tell you were holding back. He trailed a few kisses along your jaw back toward your ear and whispered, "I love you, Baby," and you shivered for him. But when he reached for your hand, he found it was bandaged up. And you looked at him with barely concealed frustration. He could just tell something was wrong. 

"What happened?" he asked, repositioning Noah in his arm and letting his son's cheek rest on his shoulder. He kissed your fingers and ran his thumb along the bandage. "What's wrong with your hand?"

You tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "Can we talk about it later? Tonight?"

"Yeah," he agreed, suddenly even more apprehensive. "We can."

"Great," you replied, leading the way to the Bronco with your fingers loosely tangled with his. And while Bradley walked with his lips pressed to his son's forehead and his duffle bag on his back, he was worried about you. 

You were still quiet when the three of you pulled into the driveway and headed inside. "I have a lasagna ready to go in the oven," you told Bradley when he followed you into the kitchen. "Should we start doing your laundry?"

He laughed softly as he put Noah down in one of the chairs and dropped his bag to the floor. "Princess," he whispered, reaching for your soft cheek. "Baby, I don't care about my laundry. I don't even really care about dinner, but I love that you have something ready to go. I just want you to tell me what's bothering you."

He watched you swallow hard, and he thought he saw your eyes dart toward the top of the refrigerator. "Bradley," you muttered.

"You know I thought about you nonstop, right?" he whispered, remembering how it felt to have his fist connect with Carl's face as he made sure he got his polaroid back. "On repeat. I just wanted to be home." He kissed your lips over and over again, stroking your soft skin with his thumb. "So I'll take care of whatever has you upset. You know I will."

You just nodded and let your eyes flutter closed. And all you offered him was one word. "Later."

After dinner was eaten and cleaned up, Bradley spent some extra time giving Noah a bath. The tub was absolutely filled with toys, and Bradley ended up removing his soaking wet undershirt, kneeling on the floor in just his underwear and service khakis. "I missed you so much," he said, kissing his son over and over again. "But I know you had fun with Princess."

Noah held out a green duckie for Bradley to take before he said, "I want Princess to be my mommy." 

Bradley met brown eyes that matched his, and he easily said, "I do too, Bub. She would be really good at it." You already were good at it. But something was wrong, and he needed to figure it out. The two of you weren't acting the way he had hoped you would after being apart for weeks. And now he was questioning whether or not you'd actually want to marry him someday.

It was late. Definitely after Noah's usual bedtime. He was yawning now, but Bradley had been so excited to see him, he let him stay up. With one more big yawn, Bradley scooped his son out of the tub with a towel and drained the water. Then he stopped in the living room where you were sitting on the couch, and he let Noah give you a goodnight kiss. And he leaned down and kissed your cheek as well. "I'll be back out in a minute. We'll talk."

"Okay," you said softly, and then Bradley was thankful that Noah was already falling asleep as soon as he was in bed. On his way back out to the living room, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of merlot and a bag of Skittles he had stashed away. 

After he opened the bottle and took a sip, he met you in the living room. Your gaze took in his naked torso as you bit your lip, and when he handed you the wine with no glass, you took a sip from the bottle as well. 

"Let's talk?" he asked, settling down next to you. He opened the bag of candy and patted his thigh. "And snuggle? I've been saving the wine and Skittles for our reunion, but you'll have to remind me which color goes best with merlot."

He could tell you were trying not to smile as you scooted across the couch and onto his lap while you sipped the wine. "Red, Daddy. Red Skittles pair with merlot."

"Yes," he rasped, kissing the side of your neck. "That's right. Now that I'm all yours again, just like I'm supposed to be, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

You handed him the bottle in favor of the candy, and you crunched on a few pieces before you said, "I moved all of my stuff in. And I used your address for my new hire paperwork."

Bradley had to hold back a moan. That sounded so fucking perfect to him, he wanted to take you on the floor right now, right in the middle of the area rug. But instead he just tightened his arm around your waist. "Mmhmm, you know just want to say to make me happy. And you did so great with Noah. I knew you would be perfect, Princess."

But then you met his eyes and held up your bandaged hand. "I had to call Tracy on Monday," you said, and Bradley's heart dropped. 

"Why?"

You pressed your lips together and looked down at the bottle of wine before taking it from his hand and drinking some more. "I saw Meredith at the gas station near Noah's daycare," you whispered, your voice soft and harsh. 

"She broke the restraining order?" he growled. "What the fuck?"

"It was just a gas station," you replied quietly. "And I think she was already there when I pulled in." Bradley was about to rage, but then you kept going. "But then someone broke into my rental, and I cut my hand when Noah was with me. And it must have been Meredith, so I called Tracy, because you weren't here, and I wasn't sure what to do." When you took a deep breath there was a little sob with it that made Bradley clench with the need to protect you. 

"Shit! I wish you didn't have to do this by yourself," he replied, heart skipping faster. "But I'm proud of you. What did Tracy say about Meredith?"

"She helped me file a police report, and they said they are looking for evidence, but my landlord is pissed off that the window is broken. He was supposed to have a new renter move in this week, and he's threatening me about paying for another month. He told me to fix the glass, but the police won't even let me. And you and I are supposed to go meet up with Tracy tomorrow." You hiccupped when you finished talking. 

"Shh," Bradley said, setting the bottle down on the end table and pulling you to his body so your cheek came to rest on his chest. "Baby, I'll take care of it. But back up, and go slow. Did Meredith threaten you or Noah?"

You shrugged against his body, and Bradley focused on every single word you had to say about the gas station and your broken windowpane and the note that was left. And how the police and Tracy both agreed that there's probably not enough evidence to prove anything one way or the other. And then you seemed wrung out as a tear slid down your cheek when you said, "Tracy did tell me that Meredith was on trial for the fraud charges I brought up against her during the custody hearing. When I saw her at the gas station, she told me I ruined her life. And then my window was smashed, probably just because she's such a horrible bitch."

"Make sense," he mumbled against your hair. No wonder he had several unread emails from Tracy that he knew he still needed to go through. Shit. You'd dealt with an awful lot in his absence. He wondered if that meant Meredith was being sentenced. "And we have an appointment with Tracy tomorrow?"

"Yes," you whispered, curling up tighter against his body. "During my lunch break."

"Okay." He kissed your forehead and ran his hands up and down your back. "I'm still off tomorrow. I'll drop you off at work in the morning, and then I'll come back for you whenever you want. And we'll go talk to Tracy, and I promise you, I will take care of everything." You were practically shaking as he added, "Because you take care of us."

You were nodding as you finally looked up at him, and as angry as Bradley was about more bullshit from Meredith, you and Noah were safe. And Tracy would probably have more information for him tomorrow. But right now, you needed someone to take care of you for a minute. "I love you," he promised, considering how exhausted you looked. "Let's take a shower and get in bed?"

Whether you were nodding in agreement or because you were still shaky, Bradley wasn't sure. But he carried you into the bathroom and set you down gently as he turned the shower on. Once you were undressed he helped you in and carefully unwrapped the bandage on your hand. There was a jagged cut on your palm that made his heart lurch. "I'll clean it and rebandage it, Princess," he said, trying to hide the anger in his voice. You didn't deserve any of the shit you'd repeatedly gone through since you met him.

"Okay," you whispered, and as soon as he was out of his khakis and underwear, you were pulling him in with you. Bradley was helpless in his feelings for you. Very carefully, he took his time and washed you so you didn't irritate your cut further. And he let himself just enjoy the feel of your body against his as he gently held your hand.

When he turned the shower off, he wrapped you in a towel and carried you to the bedroom. Everything looked exactly as it should: your purple crown was on his bedpost, everything was tidy, and the bed looked inviting. But you still didn't look relaxed as he helped you into his gray sweatpants and a soft undershirt before bandaging your hand again.

"What will make you feel better?" he asked, pulling on clean underwear as you climbed into bed. "Tell me, and I'll do it. I just want you to know how much I missed you and how happy I am that you moved all your stuff in while I was away."

You peeled the blanket back on his side of the bed and whispered, "Snuggle with me?" 

You looked so perfect and innocent, and Bradley slid in bed with you and collected you in his arms. "Come here, Baby. Let me tell you how much I love you."

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

You started to fall asleep in Bradley's arms while he rubbed small circles on your back through his undershirt which you were wearing. You had been on the brink of erupting into tears all night, and you hadn't even mentioned the USB drive. And now that he was home, you didn't know if you were strong enough to bring it up at all. 

If he knew it was in that box in the attic, then you were going to make a fool of yourself. And if he forgot about its existence, he was going to think you were snooping through his things even though he gave you permission to use the attic. Either way, you weren't going to mention it, at least not yet. 

There were too many other things to think about anyway. Like whether or not the police found anything in your rental. And how you were going to fix the window. And if Meredith was actually going to attempt something with you or Noah, or if she was just bitter that she might be facing jail time. 

"Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley's arm tightened around you as he kissed the top of your head.

"Just sleep, Baby. I'll be right here."

As you dozed off, you realized you didn't have to be on full alert at the moment. For the first night in so long, you could just sleep and know he was with you and Noah. And then you were out. 

Next thing you knew, it was light inside the bedroom, and Bradley was waking you up with gentle kisses on your face. You reached for him, and then his body weight was on top of you as he chuckled. "Baby, we'll be late."

"Good, I want to stay in bed all day," you whined, but soon you were dressed in your scrubs and making breakfast while Bradley got Noah ready for daycare. You hated the way you felt like you were holding back being as physical as you wanted to be with your boyfriend. 

And then a flash of panic shot through you. He must have been expecting you to have sex with him last night, when instead you fell asleep as a bundle of nerves. You were still a bundle of nerves, but now you felt like crying as well. But he was acting so normal when he brought Noah into the kitchen to eat pancakes. "Just leave the mess in the sink, and I'll take care of it later," he said casually, reaching for your good hand to give you another kiss. 

But you were thinking about the USB drive, and your meeting with Tracy and your job. And you barely kissed him back this time. "Okay," you agreed before picking at your breakfast. 

Bradley looked concerned now, and he continued to look concerned a little later as he pulled into Noah's daycare parking lot. "I can take him in," you muttered, but he had already turned off the Bronco's engine. 

"Let's go together," he replied, eyeing you skeptically as he climbed out to get Noah. And when you were walking in, side by side, Bradley asked, "Will you tell me what else is on your mind?"

You just shook your head, because you didn't want to get into this right now. But he took your hand anyway.  And of course the same girl was working at the front desk with her clipboard. 

"Lieutenant Bradshaw! Good morning!"

"Hi, Casey," he replied smoothly, his fingers laced with yours. 

"How was your deployment? We really missed you here." She gave you some serious side eye, and you just knew she wished you weren't even around.

"It was fine," he replied, setting Noah down and kissing him. And then Noah turned to you for a hug before he walked back to the playroom. Then Bradley tugged you a little closer to him and wrapped his arm around you before signing the clipboard with the back of your body snug up against the front of his. He kissed your neck while Casey watched. "Let's go before you're late for work, Princess," he whispered next to your ear. 

He handed the clipboard to Casey without even looking at her, and you were so mixed up inside, you wanted to scream. Five minutes ago, you were dreading the idea of being intimate with Bradley without showing him the USB drive first, and now you wanted to fuck him in the front seat of the Bronco.

"Listen," he said, voice stern as he pulled out into traffic and headed toward your medical complex. "Something is bugging you. I want you to be honest with me. After we talk to Tracy together, you and I are having a conversation later today. And by the end of that conversation, I want you and I to feel the way we are supposed to feel again. Because you moved all your stuff into the house, which I think is us officially taking the next step in our relationship. And I'm used to feeling comfortable when I'm with you. Okay?"

You pressed your lips together. There was no getting around it now. "Yes."

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

"I really like Tracy and all, but I was hoping I'd never have to come here again," Bradley said as you and he rode the elevator up to her office. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, running your hands down the front of your now wrinkly scrubs. "It's probably my fault."

Bradley did a double take. "Your fault? How would this possibly be your fault, Baby?"

You sighed and exited the elevator, and Bradley just wanted you to look happy again. "Because I'm the one who mentioned all of Meredith's insider trading and shady deals in the first place."

"Hey," he said, leading you down the hallway with his hand at your back. "This is one hundred percent Meredith's fault. And the fraud charges were probably coming whether or not we said anything about it during the custody hearing."

Then Tracy's receptionist was waving the two of you past his desk without question, and Bradley thought that was either a very good or a very bad sign.

"Meredith is in custody," Tracy announced as soon as her office door was closed behind Bradley. 

You gasped and said, "She's in prison."

"Yes. Now have a seat," she replied, pointing to the small conference table. "Because we have some things to discuss. Welcome home, Bradley." Then she set down a copy of Meredith's mugshot and arrest information.

"What a warm welcome," he muttered, skimming the paperwork. "She turned herself in?"

"She did," Tracy told him, taking the empty seat across the table and cracking open a Red Bull. "Probably broke the window at your place for fun as her last hurrah before turning herself in."

"Did the police find anything?" you asked her. "My landlord is so mad about the window."

Tracy just kind of shrugged. "Like I told you before, it's probably a lost cause. Nobody picked anything up on a doorbell camera, and it's impossible to tell exactly when it happened since you haven't actually been living there for a few months." You nodded, and then Tracy asked, "But if they do find evidence, would you like to press charges?"

"No," you replied immediately, and Bradley leaned in a little closer.

"Are you sure? We can absolutely press charges if you want to."

"Come on, Bradley," you said quietly, even though Tracy could still hear. "I don't want to cost you any more money. And I can't afford Tracy on my own." 

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he leaned in even closer to you. How many times had the two of you had this fucking conversation? Too many for him to keep track of, and it annoyed him every single time. "Look at me," he whispered when you started to turn away. As soon as you met his eyes again, he kissed you softly. But his voice was rough around the edges as he said, "I would defend you with my life. Why would my money be any different? Why is that the thing that is always too much for you?"

With a soft gasp, you gaped at him. "Your life?"

"Yes, of course," he said, brow furrowed. "So I really need you to stop making a fuss about everything else. Because it doesn't matter compared to you. Or compared to Noah. Or compared to us. And I'm getting pretty fucking sick of having this conversation over and over again with you."

"Bradley," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chanced a glance at Tracy, but she was simply scrolling on her phone now. And he could hear tears in your voice as you said, "Money isn't as important as you either."

"Exactly," he growled, holding you tight. "Fuck, Princess... don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry. But if you want to press charges, if there's even a reason to press charges, I will gladly pay for Tracy. She's expensive as hell, because she's very good."

"That's right," Tracy murmured, still scrolling.

You pulled away from him and kissed his scarred cheek a few times before you said, "Can I think about it? I mean, Meredith was probably just acting like a petty bitch because she could."

"We can wait for a police report," Tracy supplied, setting down her phone. "And I can get more information about Meredith as well."

You nodded and looked up at Bradley. "That's what I want to do."

"Then that's what we'll do," he agreed right away. 

"Tracy, do you know when I'll be able to replace the window? My landlord is threatening me with another month of rent."

She just snorted. "Send me a copy of your lease agreement. I'll make him cry."

When the three of you stood, Bradley could tell you seemed more relaxed, and he kissed the now dry tears from your cheek. "How much do I owe you for today?" Bradley asked Tracy as he took your bandaged hand in his.

"No worries. I'll bill you."

"Worth every cent," Bradley told you once again as you rode the elevator back down. 

You had your head resting on his chest as you pulled out your phone, and he could see your screen as you said, "Dr. Kelly texted me. She told me to just take the rest of the afternoon for myself."

"Do you want to head home?" he asked as you tucked your phone away again.

"Yeah, I'll make us lunch."

"Perfect," he replied. "And then we can talk."

And you seemed fine on the way home, changing radio stations in the Bonco and talking about how you hoped Meredith would have to serve the full fifteen years she was being threatened with. Bradley didn't really give much of a fuck about Meredith as long as you felt safe and happy. As long as things went back to normal for the three of you. 

But as soon as you walked into the kitchen, you seemed apprehensive once again. He watched you carefully get some butter and cheese out of the refrigerator, claiming you were in the mood for a grilled cheese sandwich. But then you tossed everything onto the counter and spun to face him. 

"I can't take it any more, okay?" You were nearly shouting at him, fists clenched at your sides. Your pretty face was all pinched like you were in pain. 

"What?" Bradley asked, rushing to you. "What's wrong?" And then he saw one rogue tear streak down your cheek. Something was making you cry again, and he needed to know what it was. 

"She's so many things that I know are horrible, but she's also so many things that I wish I could be... but I'm just not." You took a deep breath and reached up on your tiptoes to take something down from the top of the refrigerator. "I just want to know why it's here, okay?" you asked him, your hands shaking as you reached out with a blue USB drive on your bandaged palm. "Just don't lie to me about why you have this, Bradley. I know it's a few years old, but I just don't understand why you had it in the attic with Noah's baby clothes."

He took it in his own hand, and it seemed familiar. When he looked up and met your eyes, you were crying and trying to swipe the tears away. "I'm confused..." 

You pointed at his laptop which was charging on the table, and said, "Just tell me the truth," as you sobbed. 

Bradley opened the computer and tried to keep a wary eye on you at the same time. But as soon as he inserted the USB drive and the folder automatically opened up, he heard you softly say, "I can't," before you rushed out of the room. 

He was still baffled as he tapped on the video thumbnail. And then he wanted to throw the computer across the room. His blood ran cold as he remembered making this video. The details were hazy, but when he heard himself tell Meredith that he loved her, he wrenched the drive back out of the laptop and heard it clatter across the floor as he ran after you.

"Princess!"

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

Fix it now, Daddy!! You better fix it! I hope you enjoy your babysitter story @beyondthesefourwalls and thank you @mak-32

PART 33

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

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@desert-fern

[mischelmayleys]

Only this first one is going to be post here probably so for more go to my wattpad: football_woman_11

CHAPTER 1

Mapi and Ingrid were the perfect ending for each other. They knew it of course. But sometimes they felt like something was missing. Maybe someone. Some little legs running around their shared apartment in the catalonia town. 

It started as a thought from their conversation one simple evening that turned them into a fostering process. They were told they are too busy and always traveling for the games as all the workers have said. It wasn't an environment for a little kid that probably came out of something tragic to find itself in a foster system. 

They still tried. They still asked if there was someone they could foster and later adopt. But the simple "No" set their hopes to minimum, until one day.

„Are you totally insane Eliza!" My social worker yelled at me as soon as she found me in a police station sitting in the 24 hour jail. I looked down at my bleeding knuckles and pursed my lips to stop the pounding pain in them.

I shrugged my shoulders and let myself sink further into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

„Do you have any idea how this will look  on your record. Running from yet another of your homes is one thing there but fights. And don't let me start at your school records." She was looking at me through the bars of the cell.

„They weren't my home." I said looking up at her.

She sighs: „Eliza I know you don't like them, but you need to at least try. There aren't many families that want a 16 year old, yet trouble maker. You know how hard it was for me to find you Mr and Mrs Freemans?" She let the question sink. She didn't expect me to answer her, yet she stayed quiet.

„I was protecting myself in the fight AND running away was a way better option than staying." I argued back at her. She doesn't know how it is in the foster system. For her every family is good, but it's never the case.

I was in five families so far. Neither of them were okay.

In the first one the father abused me mentally the second one physically, but no one ever believed me.

Who would believe a 16year old girl over people who put everything together once they're investigating? No one...

I didn't eat normal food for a long time, of course I always ended up getting some bread or cold food, but my body was missing some hot and fresh food.

„Eliza we talked about this. A roof over your head is home.“ Again I stayed quiet and just stared at my now numb hands. She wasn’t right. Home is when you are somewhere you are loved and treated right. 

My social worker continued to look at me for a few more minutes until she signaled for the cop to release me: „You are sleeping in my office tonight. The family dropped your things into my car. Come on.“ She grabbed me by my arm and dragged me into her car. 

„You bailed me out?“ I asked as she started the engine. 

„Yes.“ It was a simple answer but it made me smile a little. At least someone cared. 

The next day my social worker forced me into my classes and said after school to go immediately to her office, saying she found a family for me to stay over there for a couple of days. I didn’t bother to go, instead I went to a small football field where I sneaked and borrowed one ball which was always lying around somewhere on the pitch. 

I threw my backpack onto the field which didn’t include any of my school stuff. Instead of books it was filled with my football shoes and a half of my skateboard. The other half was showing from the back pack as it of course didn’t fit into him.

I quickly changed my shoes and began to do some tricks with the ball that I learned online. They were simple but at least I didn't suck at it like I did with school. 

It wasn't like I was stupid or something, I just didn't care. Foster kids don't normally get picked out to the school football team or to anything really. You don't have many friends because you are always moving around and no one likes new kids anyway. 

After some time my phone blew up with messages and missed calls from my social worker asking where the FUCK I was. I just rolled my eyes and said I'll be there in a few minutes. It was better to come late, at least they won't pick me if they see that I'm not bothered. 

I would lie if I didn't say I was scared to go into the office door. It would mean meeting the people who I would live with. They never were nice people fostering me. 

They seemed okay but most of them turned out into drug junkies, alcoholics or abusers. Sometimes all at once. I am kind of used to it now. I mastered a skill in running away and quickly scanning the areas I was in to see a potential way out. 

I took a deep breath and with a bored expression knocked on the door and opened them immediately after. 

I was met with my social worker and two women talking.  

„Eliza, come here. Sit.” My social worker said, making me sigh and sit into the chair next to her facing the two women. 

„This is Maria and Ingrid and they will take you in, until I find someone to adopt you.” my social worker was saying but all I was focusing on were the two women in front of me. 

One of them had tattoos all over her arms and one on her neck. I focused on that one more: 

Looks can be deceiving

Hmm interesting. People with tattoos tend to look aggressive and most of the time they are. One of the last foster homes I was in, the man had many tattoos…I used to look at them when he beat me up. How his muscles flexed and the tattoos moved on his arms. 

„Eliza!” I was torn from my thoughts because my social worker called my name. 

„Yeah, sure whatever.” I mumbled annoyed and stood up. 

„Be nice and please stay out of trouble.” She said as I followed Ingrid and Maria out of the door. 

I took a deep breath: „No.” And with that I closed the door and turned around to find them staring at me.

„What?” I asked.

Ingrid smiles at me: „We are waiting for you.” she stuck out her hand and I just looked at it and walked past them. 

„Or not.” I heard Maria mumble as they followed me closely.

Due to me not knowing where to go I stopped and looked back at the two women. 

„It’s that black Cupra.” Ingrid pointed out a black car sitting at the back of the parking lot. 

I nodded and walked to the car feeling them right behind me. 

I quickly slipped into the back seat and sat down with my backpack next to all of my bags which I don't know how they got there. Probably my social worker. 

I pulled my board between my legs so I don't make the interior of the car dirty. It was so clean. 

„So, are you hungry? Or did you eat in school?” Maria turned from the front seat facing me. 

I shook my head quickly: „I am not hungry.” I learned that by now, when someone asks me if I'm hungry the answer always has to be no. I once said yes and I hadn't eaten anything for three days due to me being ungrateful. 

They both shared a concerned look which I didn't see because I was already looking out of the window.

When Ingrid stopped the car I realized that we were in front of McDonald's. I frowned, why are we here if I said I'm not hungry?

„I know you said you aren't hungry but I think some fries aren't that big of a deal, what do you say?” Ingrid turned my way smiling. Why the fuck is she smiling at me? 

„I guess…” I mumbled in case this was some kind of a trap. Ingrid and Maria looks nice…nicer that the other people, but I am done trusting the system putting me somewhere nice.

They both went outside of the car as I stayed in. 

„Well you are coming too let's go.” Maria said as she opened the door on my side. Fuck! I mumbled under my breath and got out of the car carefully placing my board into the space between the seats. 

They were asking too many questions. If I really want just fries? If I want a burger as well? Or what I want to drink. I tried to reply short and no to most of the questions, but in the end I ended up with The nuggets, fries and coke zero in the back placed safely in my lap as we sat in the car to their house.

I still don’t know what to think about them. They are smiling at me, buying me food and making sure I have everything and it has only been two hours since they first met me. There must be something wrong with them…

Ingrid parked the car in front of a flat building in the center of Barcelona. It looked expensive here…or at least better than the streets where my usual foster parents lived. Maria took all of my bags even though I said I could carry them on my own, but she dismissed me by saying: “Why would you do that?” 

I didn’t fight her back on it, not because I didn’t want to, but it was Ingrid who literally guided me out of Marias way. 

“Come on let Maria be, I am going to show you your room.” Ingrid said and with her hand on my back she led me into the elevator. I had the Mcdonald's back in one hand and my board in the other one. I get my own room? 

[directactionforhope]

Pictured: President Donald Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in the Oval Office on March 25, 2019, the day Trump signed a U.S. declaration recognizing Israel’s sovereignty over the Golan Heights, reversing more than a half-century of U.S. policy.

Article

"Former president Donald Trump promised to crush pro-Palestinian protests on college campuses, telling a roomful of donors — a group that he joked included “98 percent of my Jewish friends” — that he would expel student demonstrators from the United States, according to participants in the roundtable event with him in New York.

“One thing I do is, any student that protests, I throw them out of the country. You know, there are a lot of foreign students. As soon as they hear that, they’re going to behave,” Trump said on May 14, according to donors at the event.

When one of the donors complained that many of the students and professors protesting on campuses could one day hold positions of power in the United States, Trump called the demonstrators part of a “radical revolution” that he vowed to defeat. He praised the New York Police Department for clearing the campus at Columbia University and said other cities needed to follow suit, saying “it has to be stopped now.”

“Well, if you get me elected, and you should really be doing this, if you get me reelected, we’re going to set that movement back 25 or 30 years,” he said, according to the donors, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to detail a private event.

Trump has waffled publicly about whether Israel should continue its war in Gaza, saying “get it over with … get back to peace and stop killing people.” Major Republican donors have lobbied him in recent months to take a stronger stance backing Israel and its prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu.

The private New York meeting offers new insight into his current thinking. Speaking to wealthy donors behind closed doors, Trump said that he supports Israel’s right to continue “its war on terror” and boasted of his White House policies toward Israel...

Trump has offered few policy specifics about how he would treat Israel in a second term. He cast doubt on the viability of an independent Palestinian state in a recent Time magazine interview, saying he was “not sure a two-state solution anymore is gonna work,” adding: “there may not be another idea.” A two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has been the end goal of U.S. policy under Democratic and Republican presidents for decades...

Trump took a different tone [than his public comments] in the meeting with donors. Instead of saying it was time to wrap up the war, he said he supported Israel’s right to continue its attack on Gaza.

“But I’m one of the only people that says that now. And a lot of people don’t even know what October 7th is,” Trump said.

Trump repeatedly listed for the donors everything he believed he had done for Israel in the White House. He moved the U.S. Embassy to Jerusalem, bucking decades of U.S. policy. He recognized the Golan Heights, which Israel seized from Syria in 1967, as an integral part of Israel after what he said was a five-minute conversation with David Friedman, his ambassador there.

He also polled the room if they liked Friedman.

“So I did Golan Heights. You know that’s worth $2 trillion, they said, that piece, if you put it in real estate terms. But it’s worth more than that. It is,” Trump said, according to donors present.

Israel, Trump argued, needs his help. Street demonstrations for Israel get smaller crowds than his rallies, he said. In Washington, and particularly in Congress, “Israel is losing its power,” he added. “It’s incredible.” ...

Trump and Netanyahu’s relationship will “continue to prosper and flourish” if they’re both in office at the same time again, Matthew Brooks, chief executive of the Republican Jewish Coalition, said in an interview.

“He’s giving the Israelis a blank check to go in and do what they need to do to destroy Hamas and eliminate the threat in Gaza from Hamas. And what he’s also saying, which is actually true, he said ‘but do it quickly’ because time is not Israel’s ally right now,” Brooks said."

-via The Washington Post, May 27, 2024

--

Reminder that just because the status quo is fucking bad, that doesn't change the fact that under Trump, it would be fucking worse.

[heartfullofleeches]

Rubik Dice

Yandere Entity (Entities?) Blurb

An: In a vent of frustration with a rubix cube - I present this. [Brief mentions of death]

-

Six people to a room.

It's too many.

Between damped sobs and their own; and the feud in their head, they couldn't think let alone say their piece. How did this happen? How could they make such a careless mistake? It was just supposed to be an evening stroll. It had been a week since they'd been out. The longest they'd ever been put away. Being cramped under so long they had to get some fresh air or risk clawing out their throat for a clean breath. It's so cramped in their head, in this room. Six people is far too many to be alone with unless the last person is....

"Nice job, idiot. We're in enough trouble as it is - now what are we going to do?."

It was an accident.

"Don't be so mean! We all have our lapses in judgement sometimes.... Even if they are kidnapping not-so-random strangers off the street."

Didn't you tell me to do it?

"Haha- You really fucked up tonight, didn't you?.. He saw your face. No choice, but to kill him less you never want to be seen in public again? All I'm sayin' is my blades should still be in the bag."

We can't kill any more people. Why are you always like this? Please, can't we just -

"Leave this to a roll of the dice?"

Indecisive on topics ranging from daily meals to torture methods; the trio concluded their shared consciousness to one, unified:

"No."

"Take out that dice and I'm breaking your fingers. Why do we always have to be responsible for your fuck ups?"

"Such a coward. You can crack a brick over someone's skull to shut them up, but you can't stab a knife through their neck to silence them?"

"You know, someone has been reeeeeally quiet since we got back home. We all know what that means."

Ragged breathing stills in the face of its captor. The rambling maniac themselves has quieted to nothing more than a stagnant shell. They both know what's to happen next. There's only one way out of this now. He can beg all he wants, but he'll tell. Even if they believe him the others won't. Neighbors. The police. You. Everything always came back to you. Mistakes, failures, hopes. You'd hate them - all of them - if you knew what took place in this basement. You'd never want to see any of them again.

"Maybe we should let him go... They're pretty hot when they're mad. I'm sure they'd forgive us eventually."

"Quiet."

It's quiet now. How soon the commotion ends when that side of them says their part. Their voice doesn't like nails on a chalkboard. So sweet it makes teeth rot. It isn't authoritative enough to make those who heard Trimble in their wake nor is it meek and pathetic enough for a second listen. It was the amalgam of those voices - the best pairs.

"Now, Blu. You know we can't do things alone that we haven't discussed with everyone else before hand. Would you please let me out so I can take care of our little problem?"

"...ok."

Trembling hands retrieve the fist-sized cube from its pocket; chipped nails slid into the crevice separating the second and third row of squares. Why were they the one that had to solve it? These puzzles were always so hard despite the countless times they've done it - teary eyes aiding little to their cause. It becomes easier once they slide the third white cube into row. Their eyesight and mental slate become clear, cheeks dry and devoid of the faded acne scars that plagued them. They step towards their captive who was busy squirming away from the figure now five inches taller and missing the hunch in their posture that left them wondering how they had managed to drag them here in the beginning. Gaze piercing and laser focus as opposed to cowering from each sniffle. With those pure white eyes it's impossible to tell where they're looking, but the threat of being the target of their glance was petrifying alone. They were blue not even a minute ago. It was like they were a different person entirely - body and soul.

A dice falls to their victim's feet.

"Six.... You were fortune this time."

Another object grabbed from their robes. A single line drawn across their neck - and it's back to five.

"I knew you had that on you...."

"Awww, what the hell - over already? Should've made them beg or at least give us their address."

"May they have a peace rest.... Is what I would say if it were someone else, haha!"

"I think I'm gonna be sick..."

The figure pockets their weapon and stands with a stretch, stepping away from the growing pool of blood. "That was messier than expected. What should we do now?"

"Clean up this mess."

"Check Y/n's page."

"Send them flowers!"

"And this guy's heart in a chocolate box."

"All good ideas. Why don't we do them all?... Besides that last one."

Five people to a room.

As it always should be - until you come home.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O is the owner of a cat Cafe. They let Skeleton order stuff and hang out with the 10+ kitties for free anytime.

Undertale Sans - It was fun and all until you came back in the dinner room and found no Sans, nor cats. After looking after him for half an hour, you see him curling up in one of the cat scratching posts, napping in a small ball, and cuddling with the cats. No cats is interesting in any of the customers, they just want to nap with the giant weird-looking skeleton cat.

Undertale Papyrus - He loves to help around the place! Even though he's not working here, most customers think he is because he's taking orders, feeding the kitties, and even doing the dishes. After all, he thinks it's fun. You feel bad he's doing all of this for free and end up making him the co-owner of the cafe.

Underswap Sans - He's not there often, but he's glad the place exists when he's stressed between two shifts at the police station, which is just in front of your cafe. He's there during all his breaks, just to vent and pet the kitties for a few minutes before going back to work.

Underswap Papyrus - He's banned from the Cafe, but that doesn't stop him. Being allergic to cat, staying around a lot of them can be dangerous for Honey. Unfortunately, Honey also loves cats and will do everything he can to sneak inside your Cafe to pet the kitties, sometimes with the craziest disguises. He can't hide for long though, first because he's not exactly small, and second because he starts sneezing non-stop after three minutes and he can't breathe, literally. You put a forbidden sign with his face on the door. So now, Honey stays behind the window, staring at you with sad puppy eyes, all day long until you accept to let him in.

Underfell Sans - Finally! Normal cats that are not trying to kill him! He's taking a break from Doomfanger in your cafe and he finally lets his cat-person side flourish. He actually loves playing with the kitties. And he also loves free food, so it's a winning-winning situation. For him, at least. For your money though...

Underfell Papyrus - The cats all come from the shelter he's working in and he's encouraging people to adopt them. He's glad it's working, and it gives him more time to stay around his S/O so he's very happy. The only problem is Doomfanger, who beats the shit out of you both every evening because you dared to cheat on her. Now you have a routine where you have to change clothes as fast as possible when you get home before Doomie comes to the door to inspect your pants. You can only enter the house if you smell normal.

Horrortale Sans - You stopped counting how many customers asked if they could see the cat purring so loud it makes the walls shake. They're all so confused when you point the big skeleton behind the counter, eating cupcakes with like five cats on his lap and shoulders, making tractor noises. Oak is hanging there all day long. There are food, cute cats, and you, that's all he needs, really. He's keeping himself occupied all day long, playing with the cats or bothering you while you're cooking to have a treat. Just another cat, really.

Horrortale Papyrus - He loves to hang out in your cafe to chat or to bring old people he's taking care of at the retirement house so they can do something else with their day than just watching boring TV games. He loves cats, it's no secret, and he even convinced you to adopt some of the cats from your own cafe because look at them. They're baby. He's a menace.

Swapfell Sans - He comes here when he wants to work in silence, far from his brother's antics. It's hard to resist telling him he looks like a super villain with his suit, old man glasses and distractedly petting a cat like he's plotting against the government. It's hot though. You are working with a nice sight and it could be far worse. You're even sad when he's not here.

Swapfell Papyrus - When you can't hear him, you know it's bad. Like that time he made all the cat's souls blue so they could catch flies on the ceiling. Or that time he puts sunglasses on every cat in the room or that time he made a pile of cats on the head of a kid, or that time he tried to stuff his hoodie with all the cats... Each day is something new. He can't behave, you swear. He never runs out of new ideas somehow.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He doesn't like cats so it's rare he comes. He really must be desperate to have your attention actually if he dares to walk in. You can see him sitting awkwardly in a corner, trying really hard to escape your cats that are somehow all attracted to him. If he finds cat hair on his clothes, he's burning them lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You made him a quiet corner in the cat restroom so he can hang out all day, paint, and have kitties to cuddle with. He's very happy and he's mostly there all day, sometimes randomly getting out of his room to hug you before going back away from the people to watch some Disney movie cuddling with the kitties. He's happy he gets to stay near you all day.

[ermesskiss]

what music I think jjk adults would listen to

✧ ft: satoru, suguru, nanami, shoko, choso, higuruma, toji, sukuna, and kenjaku ✧ a/n: been thinking about this for a minute, and I decided to write out my opinions/hcs

jjk student version here + jjk character playlist works here

· · ───────────── 𖥸 ────────────── · ·

✦ gojo

➥ Gojo is a very laid-back and fun guy, so I think he would listen to music that has that same energy

➥ He kinda reminds me of those moms who listen to the overplayed songs on the radio and always sing them, I don’t know to explain it, but that's him

➥ I think that he gets his song recs from his students in a attempt to bond with them

songs

♪ Heaven To Me: Tyler, The Creator ♪ Chanel: Frank Ocean ♪ Died and Came Back: Lil Uzi Vert ♪ Pop Style: Drake ♪ Wake Up in the Sky: Gucci Mane ft. Bruno Mars

───────────────────────────────

✦ geto

➥ I think Geto listens to a little bit of everything, alternative, rock, rap, R&B,  and hip-hop. I can’t really picture him strictly listening to rock and alt. It doesn’t feel right

➥ As Geto got older, I think his music taste changed. He still likes everything, but he leaned towards one genre rather than several

➥ When Mimi and Nana show Geto their favorite music, he adds the one he likes to his own playlist, and vice versa

songs

♪ Sextape: Deftones ♪ Passion Fruit: Drake ♪ Rental: Brockhampton ♪ 3005: Childish Gambino ♪ Even Flow: Pearl Jam

───────────────────────────────

✦ shoko

➥ I think the music that she listens to is very mellow and relaxing but might have some sad undertone to it from time to time

➥ She gives me older music vibes from the 70s to the 90s. Like Fleetwood Mac, ABBA, and Sade. I can’t see her listening to newer music

➥ I think she listens to more female artists than men; it’s not intentional. She does enjoy songs from men, but it’s a pattern. I also think that Shoko is a big fan of The Cranberries; I am a soul believer in this

songs

♪ Sunday: The Cranberries ♪ Bette Davis Eyes: Kim Carnes ♪ Fade Into You: Mazzy Star ♪ Landslide: Fleetwood Mac ♪ So Far Away: Carole King

───────────────────────────────

✦ nanami

➥ Student Nanami was emo, so he definitely listened to My Chemical Romance

➥ He started listening to more rock when he grew out of his emo phase. He prefers light rock rather than heavy

➥ When he gets sick of music, he puts on a podcast about business/the economy, or world events OR OR audiobooks

songs

♪ Helena: My Chemical Romance ♪ I Miss You: blink-182 ♪ Dust in the Wind: Kansas ♪ Dancing In the Dark: Bruce Springsteen ♪ Rocket Man: Elton John

───────────────────────────────

✦ choso

➥ He’s giving off rock and metal vibes, also like sub-genres of those

➥ His go-to music is rock, but I definitely think he listens to other music, something like R&B and hip-hop

➥ Like the great sibling, he is, he always gives Yuji the aux and listens to his song recs

songs

♪ Granite: Sleep Token ♪ Generation Dead: Five Finger Death Punch ♪ Enter Sandman: Metallica ♪ Chop Suey!: System Of A Down ♪ War Inside My Head: Suicidal Tendencies

───────────────────────────────

✦ higuruma

➥ Similar to Shoko, I think he also listens to older music rather than newer stuff, but it’s not because he doesn’t enjoy new music; he is just too busy and stressed to figure out what artist he likes and just stays to what he knows

➥ He’s a big Radiohead fan, and maybe The Smiths, too? Music that's kind of sad and angst, yk?

➥ Genre-wise, I think he would like a little of everything if he could sit down and enjoy music.

songs

♪ Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now: The Smiths ♪ Karama Police: Radiohead ♪ Wild Sex (In The Working Class): Oingo Boingo ♪ Eyes Without A Face: Billy Idol ♪ What’s Up?: 4 Non Blondes

───────────────────────────────

✦ toji

➥ Definitely listens to divorce dad music

➥ Drinks a nice cold beer while listening to Nickelback

➥ I think because Toji doesn't think highly of himself, I can see him listening to self-loathing music and music that relates to anger or internal turmoil

songs

♪ How You Remind Me: Nickelback ♪ Pancake Land: Element Eighty ♪ The Man Who Sold the World: Nirvana ♪ It’s Been Awhile: Stained ♪ Crawling: Linkin Park

───────────────────────────────

✦ sukuna

➥ So, at first, I was sure he would listen to heavy metal and rock because he has such an aggressive personality, but after I gave it some more thought canon, Sukuna would hate it. Music or noise that loud and obnoxious would annoy him.

➥ Acknowledging the fact that he was born in the Heian era and during that time, they listened to Gagaku (court music), which is either instrumental or vocal. It’s calming and relaxing in contrast to his persona

➥ Or he hates music altogether, idk; he's a grumpy old man. Everything pisses him off

songs

♪ Menace: Five Finger Death Punch ♪ Monster: Skillet ♪ Bullet With Butterfly Wings: The Smashing Pumpkins ♪ Push: Matchbox Twenty ♪ Geisha: Anthony Davilio

───────────────────────────────

✦ kenjaku

➥ Since he's over a thousand years old, imma say he has a very diverse taste of music and probably listens to a little bit of everything. If I were to choose what genre he likes most, I would say rock, both light and heavy

➥ Kenjaku enjoys listening to Marilyn Mason and Oingo Bingo. Marilyn Mason because he’s Marilyn Mason (derogatory) and Oingo Bingo because of their surrealist music, which I think Kenjaku would find them entertaining

➥ Listens to music that feeds into his delusions, motivating him to continue with his vision of the world he wants

songs

♪ Weird science: Oingo Boingo ♪ Aerials: System Of A Down ♪ Break My Stride: Matthew Wilder ♪ The Beautiful People: Marilyn Mason ♪ Everybody Wants To Rule The World: Tears For Fears

───────────────────────────────

✧ I currently have over 1.9k liked songs, so hopefully, there is enough diversity in songs and artists. i was going to do yuki, but it was stressing me out. Maybe in the future, I'll add hers. There is definitely more I wanted to add but my mind can only contain so many thoughts, unfortunately. ✧ Anyway, I want to hear other people's opinions and/or if people agree or disagree!!

[zeroible]

Outsiders Week Day Two - “Five on Two” or Cherry Visits The Fountain Where Bob Died

TW: Angst (there’s comfort dw), mention of character death, mention of violence, and blood (all of these pertain to Bob’s death)

The stone of the fountain was cold to Cherry’s touch. Wind whispered through her hair and the pink pleats of her dress. Bob’s varsity jacket was draped around her shoulders, but it did little to keep out the evening chill. It still smelled like him. But, the scent of leather and shaving cream made her more sad than anything.

Why did it have to be him? There were other guys there besides Bob that fateful night. They were all drunk. They were all looking for a fight. So why did it have to be him?

Something crooned in the back of her mind. He was asking for it.

“No. Stop,” Cherry muttered out loud. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. 

It had been about a week since the incident at the fountain. Everyone in Tulsa was on high alert. The police were searching high and low for the culprits. Paul tried to make her testify to the cops, but she wasn’t even there when it happened. Ponyboy and Johnny were still on the run. Everything was just a mess.

She didn’t believe it when Beverly told her that Johnny had stabbed Bob. She had just seen him and Ponyboy at the drive-in a few hours before. They seemed friendly enough. To add insult to injury, she had also broken up with Bob that night at the drive-in. She was angry, but still cared about him. Now, her ex-boyfriend was dead, and the two of them were still on the run. I guess that’s what happens when you back someone into a corner.

Cherry was fully crying now. She didn’t even have it in her to pretend she was okay anymore. She swiped a thumb over the blood-stained stone, her tears dripping down her face.

Then, someone put their hand over hers.

“Mind if I join you?” they asked softly.

Cherry’s eyes were blurry from the tears, but she could still make out clear as day who was there. It was Marcia. Good-ol’ Marcia. She sat beside her on the edge of the fountain, donning her signature checkered green dress and cardigan.

Cherry brushed the tears out of her eyes. Marcia reached into her sweater pocket and offered her a handkerchief.

“Thanks,” Cherry offered meekly. Marcia just nodded.

“I saw you out here, and I didn’t want you to be alone in the East Side,” Marcia added cautiously. “It is awfully dark out.”

She was right. Their only sources of light were the moon and a handful of dim streetlights. Cherry sighed.

“So…” Marcia twiddled her thumbs together. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-” Cherry got choked up.

“He killed him,” she whispered. “He took a switchblade knife and ran it through his gut. I was so angry at Bob that night, but I never wanted it to end like this,” her voice cracked.

“The boys were drunk, and it was a five on two fight. What were they thinking? That boy was probably scared out of his mind!” Cherry bit her lip.

“Everything seems like it’s my fault. I broke up with Bob that night. I convinced him to go to the drive-in. I was the one who got him angry,” Cherry looked away.

“Why did it have to end like this?” She twisted her promise ring anxiously on her finger.

The two of them let her words hang in the air. The chirps of crickets filled the silence.

“Cherry, it’s not your fault,” Marcia said calmly, but firmly.

“You were standing up for yourself. You knew how he got when he was drunk. He got violent. No one knew what was going to happen after we left the drive-in that night. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. You can’t blame any of this on yourself.”

“Come here,” Marcia pulled Cherry into a tight embrace.

“You are the strongest person I know,” she whispered into her ear. They stood there for a good minute before parting.

“I got snot all over your cardigan,” Cherry laughed dryly.

“Never mind that. Let’s go get a Coke on me,” Marcia squeezed her hand.

And off they went into the night.

[unreliablesnake]

Help (Miguel O'Hara x reader)

Summary: After his sabotaged attempt to fix things, Miguel is on the run. He goes to you for a night, just until he makes a plan to make things right.

Note: Just a short something I wanted to write. This is an “x reader” story despite both of them being idiots in love who just won't be honest with each other.

Your phone began to ring and vibrate on your desk, and when you looked at the screen, you saw it was your neighbor, a middle-aged man who loved to complain about everything. When you turned off the music you'd been listening to, your ears picked up another sound, a loud banging that came from your front door. Was he already there? This man was a nightmare.

“Hello, James,” you said into the phone in the sweetest tone you could manage. “Was the music too loud?”

“No, not this time. But I guess you couldn't hear that loud noise coming from the hallway. There's this creepy guy who's been trying to get you to open your door for the past five minutes. Be careful, he looks like some drug addict,” he added, sounding genuinely worried about your safety.

Who the hell could that be? “Thanks for the warning. I'll peek out to see who it could be. Thanks for the warning. Have a good evening.”

With a sigh, you picked up a pair of scissors and made your way to the door with your phone in your other hand in case you had to call the police. You cautiously looked out the peephole and the man you saw standing there made you gasp.

“Jesus, Miguel,” you said once you opened the door and faced your colleague with a worried look on your face. He looked disheveled, distressed, and generally in a bad shape. You grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, putting the items in your hands on the small table beside the door before turning back to him. “What the hell happened to you?”

Instead of answering, he went to the wall in the living room to push a few buttons and roll down the blind of the window. You didn't understand why he did that, but once they were down, he took off his sunglasses and revealed a pair of red eyes. You wondered if he had suddenly decided to wear colored contacts, but then he opened his mouth a little as if he was about to say something, and you noticed he had fangs.

“My eyes have been really sensitive to light,” he explained in the end as he sat down on the couch. “I know I've changed a lot, but it's… I don't… You're the only one I can trust right now.”

Nodding, you sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of him and took his hands in yours. “Why don't you go back to the beginning and tell me what the hell is going on with you?”

“I wanted to resign from the project I've been working on, but Stone didn't let me, instead he tricked me into taking Rapture,” he explained hurriedly.

“You're joking, right? That thing is highly–”

“Trust me, I know,” Miguel cut in as he buried his face in his hands. “I tried to fix things, but they didn't let me. Delgado found out and sabotaged the process. My DNA changed, and now here I am with fangs, talons, and light-sensitive red eyes, and other abilities I don't even fully understand yet. I think they're looking for me, I hoped you could let me hide here for a day or two.”

You sat on the couch next to him and put a hand on his back supportively. “You can stay here as long as you want,” you assured him.

“I need to do something, I can't just sit back and hope it will go away. It won't, I know that.”

He sounded sad and confused, and it broke your heart. The two of you had been close at Alchemax, with you bringing him late lunch when you heard he hadn't eaten anything all day, or with him keeping you company when you were among the last people in the building late at night.

But you barely met outside of work, you didn't even know he knew where you lived. And now here he was, asking for your help. Who were you to make him leave? He had been nothing but kind to you in the past, pushing him away now would have been the cruelest thing to do.

And in all honesty, you didn't want to hurt him. You liked him, maybe a little too much, but you weren’t about to take advantage of the situation. The best you could do now was being a supportive friend. “Just make sure you have a plan, okay?” you asked him. When he looked at you, you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. Damn, those red eyes saw right through you. “Don’t do anything in a rush. Like I said, you can stay as long as you want. Tell me how I can help and I will.”

Miguel was watching you with wide eyes, and you didn’t really understand it at first. But then he pulled you into a hug and placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said quietly. “But I don’t want you to be involved in this, I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“I’ll get the spare room ready for you. But first, we order food because I’m starving,” you said with a smile as you began to stand up.

“Thank you,” Miguel said when he caught your hand and kept you back. “I don’t know how I’ll repay it. I show up out of nowhere and you help me without asking questions.”

You nodded with a warm smile. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

He gulped as he thought about your words. “Right. Friends,” he said, and you couldn’t really understand why he said it like that.

But you didn’t waste your time trying to figure it out, instead you ordered some food and went to the spare room to make his bed. Miguel seemed to be lost in his thoughts so you didn’t want to bother him, and he also seemed like he could use some sleep. The two of you quickly ate the dinner when it arrived, then you said goodnight and went to your bedroom to sleep.

By the time you woke up the next morning, Miguel was already gone. The only trace of him ever being there was a message he left for you, in which he thanked you for your help and promised to stay away until he fixed things. You knew it would be hard to be in the dark about him, but if he thought it would be for the best, you had no choice but to respect his decision.

[alovesongtheywrote]

i feel like everyone's gonna be asking for this but i'm gonna need a nightmare academia part 912828277 if that's how long it'll take for those two to finally kiss

♥ Summary: will you settle for them very briefly holding hands? in this chapter of nightmare academia, reid and the reader shut down a party and lie to the police. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: the reader cries over the two-headed calf poem, spencer wants to throw himself out a window, the cops show up and. are cops. discussions of sex, drug use and alcohol consumption in passing, and i think that's it?

♥ A/N: ough, this is gonna be the last happy chapter for a while- but it isn't gonna be sad in the way you're expecting :/

♥ Word Count: 3341

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

So.  You were right.  Reid’s friends wanted you to fuck- and they weren’t the only ones.  They weren’t the only ones by a long shot.

Since the first bet had been placed, the betting pool on whether or not you and Reid were doing it had only grown.  There were more things to bet on now, too- who topped, who bottomed, whether the two of you used handcuffs from Reid’s FBI days, etc.  Your students were degenerates.

Your co-workers were running their own bets.  Professors Evans and Peters had a running bet on whether or not the whole affair was a friends with benefits thing.  Other professors made a game of seeing how many times a day you and Reid would visit each other’s offices.  

The head of the criminology department, Professor Belker, assumed the two of you had some sort of secret relationship- and she was generally fine with that.  She just wished you and Reid wouldn’t cause so many disturbances about it.

About a week after the George Michael incident (which only ended after you and Reid got someone to smash the musical mechanism) you and Reid were called into Professor Belker’s office for a meeting about your behaviour.  

The meeting took place later in the evening.  Reid arrived fifteen minutes early.  You arrived five minutes late.  You were also crying.

Upon seeing you, your co-workers stood.  Concern rose in Belker’s chest, but panic rose in Reid’s.  You were crying.  You shouldn’t be crying.  Reid decided there and then that he didn’t like seeing you cry.  

“Professor (L/N)?  Is everything okay?” Belker asked as you took a seat next to Reid.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Professor Reid just put that one poem about the two-headed calf in my office.”

It had been a prank- just a prank to lower your mood.  He knew that the poem would upset you, but it wasn’t supposed to do this.  You weren’t supposed to cry-

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine in like-” you checked your wrist.  When you noticed your lack of watch, you grabbed Reid’s wrist instead, “Five minutes.”

“Reid.”

Spencer had heard that tone before- it was the one Hotch used when he got a little too invested in cases, or when he acted out of line and spit hard facts at local cops.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you-”

“Reid, it’s fine, I swear, I just-” you sniffed, “The cow is just a baby, you guys.  As he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual.  No matter how many times I read that damn thing, I always end up crying.  I don’t know why.”

You were trying to be professional, but it was really hard.  That poem is so fucking sad.

“Did- did you know that crying has a self-soothing effect?  It activates your parasympathetic nervous system which helps you to relax-”

“Reid, please-” Belker held up a hand, to stop him, but you held up a hand to stop her.

“No,” you took a deep breath, “Let him talk, I brought this on myself.  Besides, it’s helping.”

Spencer perked up at the instruction.  He quickly looked to his superior for permission, but before could even begin to nod her consent, he was spouting off facts about tears in a way that only Spencer Reid could.  He didn’t stop until there was a smile on your face.

He smiled back.

“Well, now that you’ve calmed down, can we move on to the true purpose of this meeting?”  Belker raised her eyebrow.  She had posed her words as a question, but you both knew that she was making a statement.

“Yes, we can, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just- maybe don’t read that poem during any classes.”

You tapped at your chair sheepishly, “Absolutely.”

Belker nodded at you and drew in a long, slow breath, “Now, I understand that the two of you have a… unique working relationship.”

She paused.  In the space she left behind, you and Reid nodded.

“Now, this is fine.  Whatever is going on between you is none of my business.  As long as everything is reported to HR in an appropriate and timely manner, it doesn’t matter to me.  With that said,” the woman leaned forward, eyebrows rising again, “I need to be sure that the two of you can work together- without disturbing the student body at large.”

“Of course we can, I apologize for previous inconveniences,” Reid kept his voice calm, though internally, he kinda wanted to fling himself out the window- it would spare him of any and all future embarrassment.  It might also spare him from making you cry again.

“I apologize also- and I would like to make it known that I didn’t know the George Michael music wouldn’t stop.  The mechanism was supposed to shut off once the cabinet closed, I don’t know what-”

Belker gave you a look that stopped you in your tracks.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.  Just as long as the two of you can-”

Then, from the distance- a funky pop beat cut off the distinguished professor halfway through her sentence.  The song was loud enough to make you jump, but quiet enough that you couldn't quite make out what it was.

Belker rose from her desk and turned her gaze to the window, glaring off into the night.  You followed her gaze.  There, standing out in the middle of the darkened campus, was a rainbow glow of light.  It radiated out from one of the frat buildings.  If you focused, you could hear the cheers of drunk students echoing off the various buildings and into the dark.

You expected Belker to give an exhausted sigh, or to roll her eyes at the nature of college kids, but when she turned, a smile lit up her face.

“This is the perfect opportunity.  (L/N), Reid, I want you to take care of this.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, tilting your head.  Belker ignored your question.

“Professor Reid, you have a history with law enforcement, yes?”

Spencer nodded, not saying a word.  Belker’s smile grew, reaching her eyes and setting tiny fires inside them- or maybe that was just the reflection of the lights outside.

“Perfect.  If the two of you can take care of this without incident, then I’ll know for sure that the two of you can work together, and no one will have to be moved to a different department.”

“Was that on the table?”

“Don’t mind that now.  Just go deal with this before someone in the neighbourhood calls the police.”

It was a valid concern.  You stood quickly, giving your superior a two-fingered salute.  Reid followed behind you with less enthusiasm.  Once the two of you were out of her office, Belker grinned to herself.  Was this whole thing an effort to make you and Reid go out to a place that was not college?  Perhaps.  Whether or not it was, that was something she would keep to herself.

-

You and Reid wandered through the darkened campus side by side, heading to the rainbow-coloured lights of the frat house.  Honestly, they were pretty hard to miss- and even if you had, you could always follow the sound.  Music blared, echoing in the air with the excited shouts of students.  You still couldn’t make out the song’s lyrics.  At that point, you were pretty sure they were Swedish.  

In opposition to the noise of the party, you, Spencer, and the rest of the campus were mostly silent.  Your footsteps echoed off the various buildings.  The pavement before you was illuminated by shitty outdoor lights, the rainbow light from the frat house, and the few classroom windows that remained lit at this hour.

Your tears had long since dried, but your skin still felt a little tacky in the light evening breeze.  Beside you, Reid’s gaze was glued to the ground.  He had been silent since he made his apology, and you were mostly fine with that.  In your opinion, there wasn’t much to talk about.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.”

Apparently, you were wrong. “Hey, don’t mention it.  You fixed me, remember?” you gently rammed your shoulder against his, “All your crying facts made things better.  Besides, I’m gonna get you back for it.  That’s a promise.”

“Good.”

When you turned to face him, he had a small smile on his face.  You counted that as a success.  You shifted your gaze back to the pavement in front of you, walking with an extra spring in your step.

“Do you think Belker was serious about making one of us change departments?” he asked.  

“Probably not.  But if she was, you don’t have to worry.  I’m the one that would have to move.”

“Oh?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.  He knew about your degrees.  He knew you were a good professor.  He just didn’t know why you were so confident that you would be the one to switch departments.

“Mhmm.  You have how many years of experience in law enforcement?  A million?  Two million?”

“Hey, I’m not that old-”

“You dress like you’re that old.  Seriously.  I can imagine you teaching dinosaurs about the concept of psychopathy.  I’m sure they’d all come away much smarter.”

Reid paused before letting out a very confused, “Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it.”

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments before Reid turned to face you again, “For what it’s worth, you could teach anything.  You could teach the phone book and your students would learn something.”

“So could you.  Quick, give me a fact about the phone book.”

He didn’t even hesitate, “The first phone book was published in 1878- hey, wait-”

“See?  Honestly, if they let you, you could probably do both our jobs and teach a course about the phone book.”

“I doubt that.  Besides, if anyone were to teach a course about a book, wouldn’t it be the person with a doctorate in English?”

“Don’t accuse me of being literate.  Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of dumb.  I got into teaching by mistake.  Honestly, I kind of got my doctorates by mistake.  So if one of us is going to teach a course about a phone book-”

“Wait, what do you mean you got them by mistake?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t really- it didn’t feel like I put in the same amount of effort as everyone else.  It just kind of happened to me,” you stopped walking, “Anyway.  Here’s the source of the noise.”

On your left, the frat house stood in all its rainbow glory.  Spencer was so invested in your conversation that he had almost missed it.

“So,” you leaned towards him slightly, just to make sure he could hear you, “How do you want to do this?”

“Should we find someone and ask them to turn the music down?”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “You can try that.  I’m just gonna turn the music down myself.”

Before he could stop you, you had already disappeared, vanishing behind the massive doors of the house and leaving Spencer alone and out of his element.  He wasn’t alone for long.  About two minutes after you left, a chant rose from inside the house.  At first, he couldn’t quite make it out, but then he heard it clearly-

-

The second you got inside, you felt the overstimulation starting to creep in.  There were bodies everywhere.  The stench of alcohol and weed hung in the air like a cloud of smog.  It was bright- far too bright, and the strobe effect that the lights took on was almost enough to trigger an epilepsy attack.  The music was deafening, but you could somehow hear snippets of conversation over it as you wandered through the house.

“Oh, they’re totally fucking.”

“Hey man, pass the chips!”

“WHERE IS MY BOOOONG?”

“Don’t speculate on them, they’re your professors!” that was Opal’s voice.  

“Let’s stay in the building.  It’s too fuckin cold outside.”

“It’s fall.  What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, man.  The elf subplot in those books is so fucking weird.”

“Dude, you wouldn’t even have to pay me to fuck him.  Professor Sexy is just that- Professor Sexy.”

“He looks like a long Victorian child, dying from the plague.”

(Technically, if he were Victorian, it would be tuberculosis.  You kept the thought internal and continued to search for the speakers.)

“Dude, I got pulled over the other day and I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong.  Why?  Oh, you already know why.”

“Fuck the police!”

The sound was small- and it was so loud in the room that you assumed if you repeated it, no one would hear you.  Your opinion would be lost among a thousand screaming voices. 

So, you said it.

“Fuck the police.”

Within seconds, the house devolved into chaos.  Kids were standing on tables and couches, doing the worm and grinding on each other, all while yelling, “Fuck the police.”

By the time you found the speakers, you were laughing too hard to properly turn the music down.  

So at first, you turned it up.

-

Outside, Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose.  This had to be your payback- your revenge for him making you cry.  Honestly, he wasn’t even upset.  Just impressed.  Then he heard the sirens.  Blue and red lights flashed against the house, against the other buildings on and around the campus.  Someone had called the police.  

Students swarmed out of the building, running across the campus and back to their dorms with bongs, beers, and snacks in hand, all while chanting, “Fuck the police.”

Spencer didn’t see your face among the crowd.  As the officers stepped out of their cruiser, their faces red with emotion at the chant, Spencer darted into the house.  He slipped between students, searching the faces that passed him for you.  

He used his height to his advantage.  It helped.

When he found you, you were slumped over a speaker, cackling so hard that you couldn’t stand straight.  Your face lit up when you saw him.  Spencer could feel something warm fill his chest, and he tried very hard to kill it, just as you tried very hard to school your expression back to something less luminous.

You both failed.

“Are you hearing this Reid?  I didn’t even plan it, they just started saying, ‘Fuck the police.’”

“That’s great, that’s so cool, the cops are here.”

In less than a second, the smile dropped from your face.  When you spoke again, the joy had been stripped from your voice.  You sounded terrified.

“What?”Without another word, Reid grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside.  There, you watched as the police tried their very best to stop any students they could.  They didn’t manage to catch many- they did, however, manage to grab Opal.  

You watched as one of the cops grabbed her arm, her face screwing up in a wince at his grip.  Her braids flew out behind her as the officer pulled her closer.  You jumped down the stairs, practically running towards your student.  Without a word, Spencer followed you.

The cop saw you coming.  Opal saw you, too.  He let her go, and she ran towards you, stopping a few feet ahead.

“Are you okay?” you asked, just brushing the top of her shoulder with your fingertips in an effort to keep her steady, “Is everything okay?  Can you get back to your dorm safely?”

She nodded at you, quickly reaching up to pat your hand.

“Okay, go.  Don’t be afraid to call campus security.”

Like a flash, the girl was off, racing towards her dorm.  When you turned back, Reid was staring at you.

“What?” you asked, pulling your arms across your chest protectively.

“It’s nothing.”

The cop- the one who had grabbed Opal so harshly- did not agree with that statement.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?  I could bring you in on obstruction of justice!”

“Shutting down this party,” you answered, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Responding to a noise complaint,” the officer spoke to you like you were stupid, “I was going to apprehend that subject for questioning.  Can you not smell the illicit substances?”

“Okay, well, she’s gone now.  And the source of the noise has clearly gone silent.  The party has dispersed, so it looks like you won’t have to apprehend anyone.”

You were right.  The campus had gone dead silent.  Someone had shut off the lights, too, leaving you, Reid, and the cops with only the shitty campus lights and the blue and red glow from the police cruiser.

Still, the cop glared at you, “And what do you know about police work?”

“Well, y’know.  I just have doctorates in criminology and law.  No big deal.”

The man looked you up and down, clearly judging you, “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Why is that?” Reid stepped forward, putting himself between you and the officer, “Dr. (L/N) is well respected in their field.  They’ve written numerous in-depth papers on the benefits and downsides of various policing policies and criminal justice strategies.  Their conclusions are always brilliant, and your field would improve if officers like you would bother to examine their research.”

A blush crept onto your face as you listened to Reid.  Did he really think so highly of you?  Of your work?

“If you ask me,” the cop spoke again, “All you academics are a bunch of useless degenerates.  I have half a mind to-!”

“OH MY GOD, YOU’RE THAT FBI GUY!!” the cop’s partner cut him off, “You were on the team that took down The Silencer!!  And the Seattle Strangler!!  Oh, I have so many questions.”

Beside you, Reid noticeably tensed up in discomfort.  Without thinking about it too much, you grabbed his hand.

“Unfortunately, Dr. FBI guy is currently suffering from a bout of retrograde amnesia- sadly, he remembers nothing from his FBI days.  If you want your questions answered, I recommend contacting Derek Morgan, he’s lovely to criminal justice students!”

You pulled Reid away before either cop could respond to your final cry of, “Have a nice night!”

Neither you nor Spencer realized you were still holding hands until you reached the main building.  Until then, his long fingers sat intertwined with yours like they belonged there.  

Your face burned as you pulled away from him.  In the quiet of the atrium, you both fell silent.  The only sound was the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above.

“I fucking hate fluorescent lights,” you weren’t sure why you said it.  It really came out of nowhere, and you were just starting to regret it when-

“Really?  So do I.  That's why I can’t stand hospitals.”

“Oh, I get that.”

The two of you smiled.  You had probably agreed on things before, but for some reason, this felt like the first time.

“Hey, thanks for having my back earlier,” you crossed your arms and swayed back and forward slightly.

“Ah, it’s no problem.  I meant it.”

Heat rose to your face again, but before you could ask him if he really did mean it, he was speaking again.

“Thanks for getting us out of there when you did.  I’m not in the mood to answer questions about grisly murders right now.”

“Damn it,” you grinned, “I was just going to ask about the worst cases you’ve seen.  Oh well, I’ll leave it for another night.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice.” “My sacrifice?  It’s basic decency, Spencer.”

The smile on his face matched yours.  

-

Meanwhile, back at Quantico, Penelope Garcia was not smiling.  In fact, she was grimacing.  She had accidentally gazed upon some gorey case details and it had kind of ruined her night- at least, it had until she saw just where the murders had taken place.

She dialled a number into her phone- Morgan picked up on the first ring.

“What’s up, baby girl?  Do we have a case?”

“We do!  And you’ll never guess where.”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER FIVE: What Belongs Together Will Find Back Together

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your shitty day gets worse when an agitated patient decides to completely lose his temper.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, violence, mentions of gun violence, knife, mentions of drug abuse, blood, attempt at humor (again), mentions of abuse, flirting

Word Count: 5.5k

A/n: This is the second part of the double update. Enjoy!

Read Chapter 5: What Belongs Together Will Find Back Together here on AO3

You’re having a downright awful day. A witch must have put a curse on you, or maybe God finally decided to turn his grudge into never-ending misfortune. 

You came into the hospital late, hungover, and in the back of an ambulance with a man who was beaten to a pulp by a masked vigilante, but you couldn’t tell anyone that, so you left that part out. Shelly wasn’t happy when the police showed up to question you, and she was even more displeased when she found out that you decided to play the hero instead of heading to work straight away. 

She lectured you for ten minutes without taking a moment to breathe, and then she convinced you to take a double shift as an apology. You are far beyond your limit, but if you let the exhaustion seep in, people will die. 

Eighteen hours down, six more to go. At least, that is what you believed when you set foot into the emergency room for a surgical consult. You didn’t expect to see yourself where you are now—standing between the security guard’s loaded gun and a troubled young man holding a pocket knife. Then again, the past eighteen hours have been hell, and after everything that happened the night before, this feels more like a cruel joke the universe is playing on you than a threat to your life. 

You always happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man threatening you with the knife isn’t even your patient. An ambulance brought him in after a bad trip on amphetamines. He was aggressive. They even had to strap him down. Someone else was in charge of him by the time you came downstairs to take care of your patient, but somehow, the young man managed to free himself of his restraints, knock out the nurses around him, and demand an almost lethal amount of drugs. When he didn’t get what he asked for, he pulled a knife, and security jumped in. 

“One bullet requires over a hundred healthcare workers,” you blurt out. The security guard has his eyes focused on the man with the knife, but your words make him turn to you for a second. He frowns. 

“Put the gun down,” you repeat. “If you shoot him, you will take almost all of the staff in this ER away from other patients. People already get shot on the streets like it’s a sport. We can resolve this some other way.”

You’re babbling, but the situation is about to escalate. If he hadn’t assaulted two nurses and pulled a knife on everyone else, including innocent sick people, security would have taken him down, you could have sedated him, and no one would have gotten hurt. But it’s already too late for that. 

“Doctor Clarke,” the security guard, Hal, says, his voice eerily steady as he points the gun forward still, “Step aside.”

“No,” you insist. 

“You’re gonna get hurt.”

“And you’re agitating him by waving a gun in his face. If you keep doing that, we’re all gonna get hurt.”

“Shut up!” the young man yells. You flinch. “Shut up, both of you!”

You turn to face him. “Easy. No one wants to hurt you. Why don’t you put the knife down and we’ll talk about what’s bothering you, hm? I can help you. You just have to be a little patient,” you say. 

A calm voice can do wonders when someone is agitated, but this time, your words fall on deaf ears. 

“I want ten milligrams of Dilaudid,”  he says. “Now!”

“Okay, I heard you the first time, but 10 milligrams is a lot. Are you in pain?”

“Yes! That’s why I need you to give it to me or I swear to God I will use this knife and gut you like a fish.”

The gasps in the room are audible. You sigh. The way he’s shaking, you aren’t sure if he can gut you like a fish even if he tried. He’s in serious withdrawal. “I can give you two,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “I want ten!”

“I can’t give you that. I can give you two milligrams. You know they do the job just as well.”

“No, no, no…” His voice grows higher, and it sounds almost as if he’s sobbing. His fist tightens around the handle of the knife. “No!” he says, louder this time. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see some of the security guards ushering the remaining patients, the ones who are mobile, at least, out into the waiting room.

“Five,” he begins to argue. 

“Two,” you repeat.

“I said five, you bitch!” He wipes the counter of the nurse’s station clean with his free hand. “You do as I say or I’ll cut you. I swear, I will cut you!”

You don’t let him sway you. You don’t let him agitate or scare you. Instead, you take a deep, calm breath and lift three fingers into the air. “Three,” you say. “Last offer. I can’t give you more than that. For now. I can give you three milligrams of Dilaudid, we’ll check you out, and if you’re still in pain, I can round up to five. How’s that sound?”

He licks his dry lips. His eyes keep darting around the room before falling back on you. He’s contemplating. 

“I promise, I’ll do it. You just have to put the knife down.” You take a careful step forward. You almost have him. “I’ll make sure that the pain stays away, but we have to be careful about this, alright? Three milligrams, and I will add up to five if it’s as bad as you make it sound. You just put down the knife and I will take care of everything else.”

His nostrils flare as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “You will give me five?” he asks. 

You nod again. “If you happen to need them, yes,” you say. 

“Three then five?”

“Yes.” You smile gently. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“I’m not tellin’ you.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Let me introduce myself then. My name’s Olivia. I’m a doctor. And I promise you, I always keep my promises.”

The man looks between you and Hal, the security guard. His hand keeps shaking. He doesn’t look angry anymore, simply nervous. “And him?” he asks. 

“He will put the gun down,” you say with an obvious glare over your shoulder. 

Hal hesitates. He stares at you, then at the man, then back at you before he slowly lowers his gun. He doesn’t holster it, he keeps it at his side, but that seems to be enough for the young man before you. He slowly lowers his knife as well, placing it on linoleum floors. The seconds tick by in slow motion. 

When the knife is on the ground and his hand is gone, you nod. One of the nurses grabs him from behind. He yelps. You can tell that he didn’t expect that, and the betrayal on his face is visible. You almost feel bad. 

You get handed a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid. You have to be fast. The young man, despite his state of withdrawal, is rather strong and you’re not sure how long he can be restrained before he starts throwing fists. 

“Okay, this is gonna hurt,” you state as you fill the syringe with the liquid. It could be Dilaudid, but judging from his eyes, he doesn’t believe you. 

“No! Let me go! You promised!” he growls as he struggles against the grip keeping him in check. 

“I’m sorry,” your words sound genuine. You mean them. 

You truly are sorry. He’s suffering from a disease you are more than familiar with. You know what it does to a human being and those around them. You know the physical and emotional toll this disease can take. It requires so many sacrifices, and those affected have no choice but to give up everything.

You’re about to jab the needle into his upper arm when he manages to dig his heel into the foot of the nurse behind him. He stumbles back in pain, and the young man uses his newfound freedom to haul his arm forward. The syringe falls from your hand and out of his arm. You don’t have time to brace yourself. His anger escalates, and the faith you had dissipates. 

A sharp pain tears through the bridge of your nose. The bone lets out a crack that sounds like a scream straight from a megaphone. It’s a pain you have felt many times before, but it still hurts like hell. You let out a groan of agony, losing your balance and falling against the counter of the nurse’s station. Thankfully, your assailant wiped it clean, giving you enough free space to hang onto. 

For a moment, you’re disoriented. You can only feel the sharp pain tearing through your skull. The blood from the burst vessels starts pouring out of your nostrils in hot streaks. You can’t breathe. Not through your nose, at least. 

When you finally manage to turn your head, you see the young man making a run for the ambulance bay. You push yourself off the counter, breaking free from whoever is trying to grab you and get you to sit down, asking you if you’re okay, and you take a few quick steps after him. You don’t get very far. Not only is your head pounding and your coordination is slightly off, but something gets in the way of the man’s escape plan, and he stumbles. He falls face-first to the ground. He instantly stops moving, and the security guards are all over him in seconds. 

You’re holding your broken nose, a look of pain and surprise etched into your features. Your eyes switch from the man to a familiar face. Your eyesight is slightly blurry, but you recognize him right away. You take another step forward. 

“Matthew?” you ask, dumbfounded. 

The young man didn’t just stumble, he stumbled over a blind man’s cane. If that was on purpose or simply karma, you’re not sure, but the attractive lawyer whose number you tossed into the trash because you were feeling sorry for yourself made sure that no one else could get hurt. For that, you want to kiss him. 

You wince. You probably have a concussion. You’re bleeding and confused, although when you look at him and he tilts his head in your direction, you don’t feel confused anymore. 

The man next to him raises his eyebrows. “That was so cool, dude,” he says. Then, his eyes fall on you. “But that does not look cool. Hey, why did she just say your name? Do you know her? Matt?”

“Olivia?” Matt isn’t even paying attention to what you assume must be his friend. 

You don’t have a lot of time to process the awkwardness of the situation. What felt like hours since you got punched has been nothing but mere seconds. You evaded the caring hands of your colleagues, and you are starting to regret that. 

“I–” your vision blurs. One of the nurses rushes to your side when your knees buckle. “Excuse me,” you murmur, “I have to pass out.”

Before she can even tell you to stay awake, the black curtain closes on your vision and you lose all control of your limbs. You’re floating between consciousness and darkness. The strong arms that catch you before you can hit the ground though, you can feel them. And you can hear Matthew’s voice just above your head, telling you, “Hey, stay with me.” 

But you’re tired, and your mouth tastes metallic. You hate the taste of metal. You open your mouth to respond, but that is nothing but a subconscious reflex. Before you know it, even the last pieces of your consciousness have slipped away, and you fall into the abyss of complete and utter darkness. 

There is no telling for how long you’ve been out by the time you regain consciousness. Everything around you was dark for quite a while, but it still felt like only a minute or two. Your eyelids flutter. The bright neon light above your head hurts your already throbbing head. 

You groan, reaching up to touch your nose. The blood has dried. You dare to inch closer to the injured bone, ready to face the pain, but someone touches your arm. It’s a soft touch that sends shivers down your spine. When was the last time someone touched you this gently? When was the last time someone touched you and wasn’t planning to hurt you afterward?

Your first instinct is to pull away. Your eyes slowly adjust to the white walls around you, nurse Miriam with a concerned expression to your left, and the steady beeping of the machine in the background. 

“Welcome back,” she says with a relieved smile. “You scared us there for a second.”

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” another voice says to your left. 

You don’t want to believe it. You must be dreaming, or maybe you’re already dead. When you turn your head, you see him. Matthew. The lawyer. The guy you rejected because you tend to feel too sorry for yourself. You can’t help it. You’re scarred. You had a good reason for throwing his number away. What else were you supposed to do?

It takes you a moment to register his presence as something more than a hallucination. You want to ask him why he’s here, but you’re not sure if you want to know the answer. So, you just stare, and you try to figure out why Matt Murdock is sitting next to you in the middle of the emergency room after you got punched by a drug addict. 

He smiles softly, even a little shyly. “Hi,” he says. 

You blink a few times. He’s still there. “H-hi,” you stammer. 

This is real. He’s really next to you. And he looks concerned. The past few minutes slowly come back to you. He tripped the young man who attacked you with his cane, and when you recognized him and walked toward him in a haze before passing out, he caught you. He looks strong enough to explain the way you felt when your knees buckled. The question of how he did it doesn’t even dawn on you because blindness is a complex disorder. It can’t be that easily explained. 

You’re merely asking yourself why he’s at the hospital and why you’re suddenly so confused, and your body is tingling all over. All because he touched your arm to stop you from touching your nose, which is either dislocated or broken. You’re not lucid enough to determine that yet. You just know that it hurts. 

Matt clears his throat. “You fainted.”

“To be fair,” your voice cracks a little, “I gave you a heads-up before I did.”

He laughs. He has a beautiful laugh. The way he adjusts his glasses as a faint blush covers his cheeks from the blood rushing to his head and the way he laughs are both equally as endearing, and you can hear your heart beating a little faster. The beeping of the monitor changes ever so slightly. 

His laughter dies down after a few seconds. “You, uh–you okay?” he asks.

You want to look into his eyes, but all you can do is look at your reflection in his red glasses when you say, “Yeah.” 

It’s a lie. You’re far from okay. He tilts his head as if he knows that you’re not, and it makes you want to curl in on yourself. 

“There’s blood on your shirt,” you point out. His white dress shirt has a small stain toward the left of his chest. You don’t connect the dots at first. 

Matt nods. “You kind of…fell on me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I caught you.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip. “Thank you?”

“It’s nothing. This is the first time someone fainted when they saw me, so… I’ll just take it as a compliment.”

The laugh that escapes your lips is involuntary. The vibrations tear through your nose. “Ow,” you wince. Your finger brushes against the bone this time, and the pain shoots through your body like an arrow. 

Nurse Miriam gently pulls your hand away. “Careful, sweetheart,” she says. “We still need to get an X-ray, but Max thinks it could be broken.” 

You don’t even question the mention of your colleague. Instead, you ask her, “How long was I out?”

“Five minutes, but your vitals are stable. You probably just fainted from the stress, not the punch itself.”

Turning your head back to face Matt, your finger brushes his hand that is resting on the mattress next to you. “You stayed,” you say.

You don’t understand why he would do that. You don’t know each other well enough. Your frozen heart cracks a little. You’re not used to this level of kindness. You’re not used to being cared for or worried about. You do it for other people. You do it for a living. When the tables are turned, however, you don’t know how to accept it. You don’t know how to deal with it, and you don’t know how to judge the way Matt is looking at you—in his own way, he is looking at you, just without his eyes, and you don’t know what his expression means. 

You’re confused and possibly concussed, and your nose hurts. This day couldn’t get any worse. But Matt being there sends an almost welcomed shiver down your spine.

Matt tilts his head slightly, softly. “Someone laid their hands on you and then you fainted into my arms,” he says. He makes it sound as if that alone is reason enough to stay with a stranger he gave his number to but who never called him. 

You feel bad. The guilt is eating you alive. He stayed because someone laid their hands on you. Involuntarily, your heart flutters. 

“You tripped him,” you murmur. “With your cane.”

“Did I?” The smirk on his face tells you that he knows very well what he did.

You chuckle. He can be the epitome of innocence if he wants to be. “You made sure he wouldn’t get away.”

The redness in Matt’s cheeks only grows. “Ah. He just tripped over my cane,” he says. “Could happen to anyone.”

“But it didn’t.”

“Maybe it was God’s will.”

God’s will. You remember the conversation you had with him in the abandoned hallway a few days ago. You talked about religion. You told him why you are an atheist. He’s a devoted catholic, but he didn’t judge you. That’s not something you see often. 

You don’t know what else to say, so you close your mouth and take a moment to look at him. He runs his hand over the stubble covering his jaw and neck. His chest strains slightly against his tight dress shirt whenever he takes a breath, and his suit jacket fits just right around his biceps. He fidgets with his fingers when he’s nervous, like now. You wonder what he’s thinking. Should you say something? You probably should, but you still can’t find the words. 

“Listen, Matthew,” that is all you get to say before the curtain jiggles and a man passes through. 

You remember his face. You saw it briefly before you passed out. He was standing next to Matt. Blonde, tall, nice smile—he’s the complete opposite of his friend. He’s colorful and giddy; he’s daylight, whereas Matt represents the night. They complement each other perfectly. 

He’s clutching two packs of Capri-Sun from the vending machine in his hands. “Dude, you won’t believe what just happened to me,” he says. “I pressed the button for one Capri-Sun and the machine gave me two. Two, Matt! I told you, I’m on a lucky–”

He stops when he sees you wide awake, staring at him. Matt is pinching the bridge of his nose. “Foggy,” he warns. 

“Oh!” Foggy breaks out of his trance. “Hey, you’re awake.” He offers his hand to you. “Foggy Nelson. So nice to meet you. I’m Matt’s friend, business partner, and fellow eligible bachelor.”

“Foggy!”

You raise your eyebrows. Part of you wants to laugh, but you swallow it. You take his hand with shaky fingers. “Olivia,” you introduce yourself. 

Foggy smiles and it lights up the room. “Did Matt tell you we’re lawyers?”

The fact that he is still trying to flirt with you even with your face covered in blood baffles you. Words go lost on you. 

You open your mouth to answer, but the curtain moves again. This time, someone pulls it back all the way. You’re met with a crowd of familiar faces. Everyone asks you how you are doing. You all tell them the same thing. “I’m fine,” you say. It’s nice to know that they care. 

“You’re alive,” your colleague, Max, steps forward in his white coat.

You scoff. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“Hey, if you die, I’ll get your job. I’m just waiting for nature to take its course.”

“You think you’re as good as me?”

He smirks. “Hardly.”

You can’t help but chuckle. After a moment of silence, you dare to ask, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Max puts the chart down. “Let me take a look,” he says. 

You love being a doctor, but you hate hospitals, and you hate being in a helpless position that you can’t control. 

For the longest time, you dreaded setting foot into the hospital that was supposed to kickstart your career. For years, you studied for a job that was injecting your veins with the purest essence of fear. It was poisoning you.

You spent so much time and money to become a doctor, but for most of your residency, you hated it. You loathed it. And you loathed everything that was somehow connected to it. Now, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. 

You don’t have to be, but you are. That is the problem. You’re afraid every day, and while it doesn’t make you hate your job the same way you did when you were still a student, it makes your blood boil whenever you think about the fact that the person you thought loved you took away the only good thing in your life, and that was the ability to feel good doing what you do. You will never get the excitement you harbored in medical school back. You lost it all. 

You’re tense when Max’s slender fingers check your nose for possible fractures. All you want to do is get up and finish your shift. You don’t want to be the one lying in a hospital bed in the emergency room. 

“Okay, that looks like a dislocation rather than a fracture, but we still need to get an X-ray,” he states.

You hear him out. You let him finish his sentence. Being rude to someone you get along with is the last thing you want to do. When he’s done though, about to turn around and tell a nurse to book you in for an X-ray, you cup your nose with your hands. 

“No need,” you say. 

The bone emits a loud crack. You groan. The pain travels to your toes where it paralyzes you for a brief moment. The eyes of the people around you are filled with horror. Foggy exclaims, “Woah, dude!” And the nurses all let out a collective gasp. Max pales. Matt is the only one who raises his eyebrows and shows the slightest sign of a smirk. You’re not sure if he knows what you just did.

The pain is only temporary. Your nose still pulsates under the discolored skin, but it’s back where it should be, and you can finally take a breath again. The small amount of blood that trickles out of your nose is quickly caught with a cotton swab. 

Your glassy eyes meet those of the people around you. “What?” you ask. 

“Did you just… reduce the dislocation on your own without an anesthetic?” Max retorts. 

“Yeah. I was just waiting for you to tell me it’s not broken.”

“Olivia.”

“What?”

“You can’t be your own doctor.”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know. The law?”

“Actually,” Matt cuts in, and you have never been more grateful for the sound of a stranger’s voice, “To know how to heal yourself is a basic human right. Legally, you’re not allowed to prescribe medication to yourself, but no one can forbid you to reduce a dislocation on your own if you know how to do it.”

Max frowns. “What? Who are you?”

“My lawyer,” you blurt. 

“You–okay, you know what? We’re done here.” He picks the chart back up. “Shelly will want to talk to you, but after that, you can go home. Doctor’s orders. You need to rest.”

You sit up. “Thanks. Appreciate it.” 

“Whatever.”

If you leave before Shelly can catch you, maybe you can escape a possible second lecture. This was in no way your fault, but the woman has been on edge for months. Budget cuts, staff quitting, and a significant hole in the money pool makes her job so much harder than it should be, and you’re only adding to her headache with your reckless behavior. 

Being reckless is so unlike you. You used to be careful. You used to be scared of the consequences of your actions. To a certain extent, you still are. You still believe everything is your fault and you think twice about doing the easiest things, especially for yourself, because you don’t believe you deserve them. But ever since you started running from your old life, you have grown more prone to taking risks. You’ve become reckless. For someone as rational as you, that is odd behavior. Even you can admit that. 

You can feel Matt’s attention on you. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks.

You blink and look up at him. “I think so,” you answer. “Do you know what they did to the guy?”

Matt opens his mouth, but Foggy cuts him off. “They sedated him, put him in a secure room, and called for the police and a psych consult,” he says.

“Okay. That’s… not perfect, but it’s good. Thank you.”

You’re still a bit weak on your feet when you get up. Matt catches your elbow. His senses must be excellent. He picks up on the smallest of movements without an issue. At first, that wasn’t obvious, but he’s no longer trying to hide it. 

His scent hits you. He smells like the earth, rain, and sandalwood. He reminds you of fall. You like fall. When it’s not too cold and not too hot outside and all the leaves start changing colors. He reminds you of that, and perhaps even a cozy hug under a warm blanket. 

You stare at him, and you feel like he’s staring back at you in some way. He tilts his head. His attention is entirely on you. He’s listening, smelling, and feeling. A silent connection passes between you, wrapping around you like an invisible string and tying you together. It’s weird. You’ve never felt anything like this before. Maybe he’s confusing you because he’s so attractive and you haven’t felt someone’s genuine touch in a while. Or maybe it’s because he cares that your mind can’t process it and is instead confronting you with all of these unwanted feelings for a man you don’t even know. You're sexually confused, frustrated, and it is emotionally draining to feel so many things at once and not be able to understand them.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “I got your number, but I didn’t call,” you whisper.

Matt smiles, but his smile looks pained. He’s not the kind of man to pressure you into anything. He wouldn’t be mad if you rejected him, but you can tell that you hurt him. That was never your intention.

You threw away his number to protect you and your fragile heart. You tried telling yourself that you did it for him, but you were being selfish. You were feeling sorry for yourself, and you refused to allow yourself even a moment of reprieve from the constant weight of your past that is weighing you down. You are and will always be a masochist.

“I get it,” he says. His voice sounds even more like gravel when he speaks at such a low volume. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you. I can’t blame you for being careful.”

His hand slips from your elbow. “I, uh, should go. We have a cab waiting.” He grips his cane with both of his hands. Those beautiful hands. “Take care, Olivia.”

No.

“Wait!” Your eyebrows are already furrowed when you call out to him. You know that this is probably a huge mistake, but you’re not in charge of your own actions; your heart is.

You hate your tricky heart, considering it’s broken and frozen and won’t survive another heartbreak. Yet it changed its course last minute, and now you’re heading straight into the unknown, which scares the life out of you.

Matt stops. Foggy stops. They both stop. You take a step forward, approaching Matt again. 

“Can I call you?” you ask.

He’s taken aback by the question. Your forehead wrinkles as he raises his eyebrows, and his jaw drops. He blushes. He reminds you of a fish on dry land, gasping for air. It’s kind of cute, you have to admit.

“It’s just that I misplaced your card and I would really like to call you later.” 

He stammers. “What?” 

“Yes. I realize now that I’ve made a mistake. I’d like to make up for it if you’ll let me.” 

His blush only deepens. “You don’t have to make up for anything.”

“Even if so, will you still let me?” you ask. 

The air is charged with awkward tension that could explode at any moment. 

Matt reaches into the inside of his suit jacket to retrieve another one of his business cards. You recognize the delicate Braille instantly. 

“If you happen to replace it again, I’m sure we will find each other some other way,” he says.

The blood rushes to your head. It’s your turn to blush. “I—” You take the card from him, and your fingers brush. An electrical current runs through your body. 

“Call me,” his voice is barely above a whisper.

You nod, equally as breathless. “If you don’t hear from me,” you say, “you know where to find me.”

“At Metro General, getting your nose broken?”

“Only on Wednesdays. The rest of the week I’m at Metro General without suffering a concussion.” 

“I’ll remember that.”

“Seriously, I am so glad you can’t see me right now,” your mouth is faster than your brain. “Sorry, that was probably offensive. I didn’t mean—”

Matt chuckles, but he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I don’t need sight to know that you’re beautiful,” he says. 

You had been successfully keeping your head above water until now. One sentence and he’s got you hooked like a fish. Your jaw drops. 

“Have a good night.” He squeezes your arm one last time. Then, he turns around, and with a small, “See ya,” he leaves.

You still haven’t regained your voice.

Only when you hear giggling beside you do you turn to face the nurses.

“Don’t even,” you say. 

“Just one question,” one of the nurses pipes up.

You glare at her. You know this won’t be good. 

“How can I get what you’re having?”

The group erupts into laughter, and you have no choice but to yield. 

“I’m gonna find Shelly,” you sigh. You wipe your bloody nose again. “Maybe she’ll kill me for free.”

Anything would be better than becoming the center of the nurses' gossip, even getting lectured by a pissed-off hospital administrator who won’t believe her luck when she sees what happened to you.

You leave the emergency room with the intention of avoiding any and all mirrors, but when you pass the vending machine, you catch a glimpse of your face in the glass. The reflection is a bit runny. Your nose is blue and swollen, but it could be worse. What strikes you the most is the small smile on your lips. You’re used to being covered in bruises—a real smile is a rarity. 

You pull away, looking back down at the card in your hands. This feels less like a curse now. 

You can either regret something that happened or regret something you didn’t do out of your own fears paralyzing you. You have the choice. You’re in charge of your life now, and you would rather regret trying something and it not working out than never trying it and regretting it when the opportunity has passed you by. 

You will call Matt, and you won’t be afraid because he’s the present and all of your fears are from the past. There is no place for the past in your present, let alone in the future. If you ever want to heal, you have to allow yourself to settle down. Perhaps that will finally give you back a piece of what you’ve lost. 

“Yeah,” you say to yourself, “I’ll call him.”

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41

[glennjaminhow]

My newest hyperfixation ship finally manifests as a sick fic because of course it does.

~

You Know Me Best

Tim wakes up disoriented.

While that’s not unusual for most, it is unusual for him. He’s alert before he’s even aware of his surroundings. That was drilled into him by the time he was four.

He rubs his eyes and groans as he pulls himself up, out of breath from the simplest task. He blinks through the darkness of his bedroom and sags against the headboard, careful not to get too comfortable. Dizziness brews in his skull, thick and foggy. He feels like he’s on a raft in the middle of the ocean, the waves relentless, violent, treacherous. It’s ridiculous. He’s in his bed, at home in Los Angeles. The idea that he’d be anywhere else is as absurd as it is impossible.

Okay. No big deal. He’s a little out of it, and that’s fine.

Kojo whines at his feet.

Tim runs a hand through his hair as he peels himself off the mattress. A wet cough rattles through his chest, but he ignores it in favor of letting Kojo out. The wooden floor is icy beneath his thermal socks. He usually goes outside with Kojo – sometimes even plays fetch with him depending on how late he got in – but not today. He feels strange… distant. Kind of like he isn’t really here. Instead, he stands at the door and stares out the frosted window, eyes heavy.

He jumps when Kojo barks.

“Sorry, pal,” Tim says as he lets him back inside.

The dog huffs and scampers away. His automatic feeder goes off, and then Kojo’s gone.

Tim should be eating too. He isn’t a big breakfast guy, so he typically just has overnight oats or a smoothie, but the idea of eating right not makes his stomach squirm. He has about half an hour before he has to shower. He could lie down on the couch – or better yet in his bed – and bundle himself in blankets, but the here-but-not-here feeling is so strong he’s afraid he won’t be able to get back up. He resorts to sitting at the kitchen table, too exhausted to make coffee even though maybe it’d help fix whatever is wrong with him.

Time passes in a glazed blur, too fast and too slow all at once. He autopilots his way through his morning routine. He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, puts in his contacts, throws on jeans and a hoodie, and is out of the house five minutes ahead of schedule. It doesn’t make any sense. Sometimes, he wakes up wrong, guilty or angry or upset or exhausted, but it never lasts this long. He’s great at snapping out of any funk before he enters the station.

“You okay?” is the first thing he hears when he opens the side door. Chen. Great.

He rolls his eyes. He just wants to get into uniform and on the road. Maybe focusing on the job will help.

“Fine,” he says. He heads to the locker room without looking back, even though the urge to read her facial expression is strong. Lucy always wants to know everything, even if it’s irrelevant things like his favorite ice cream flavor or that he’s allergic to strawberries. She’s like this way with other people too, but it’s more annoying because she was his boot and now she’s his gopher. It’s like he just can’t get away from her.

Tim changes. Grabs his thick police-issued coat. Coughs into his elbow a few times. Stands in front of the mirror to make sure his sure is tucked in properly and his hair is up to standards. Heads to morning roll call.

Lucy stops him before he can head inside. She places her hand on his chest; Tim shrinks back from the touch.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim nods. “I’m good.”

“You’re wearing your coat,” she points out. “You never wear your coat.”

“It’s December.” His voice is hushed and scratchy. Shit. He clears his throat, but it sounds weird.

Fantastic.

Lucy’s eyebrows furrow. “And?”

“Aaand I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Tim says as he pushes past her. “It’s just a coat.”

“It’s never ‘just’ anything with you,” Lucy mutters as she trails behind him.

Tim ignores her.

Somehow, by the grace of whatever, Tim doesn’t have to say a word during the briefing. Grey does all the talking, even down to announcing their jurisdictions and duties for the day. Tim stands off to the side, arms crossed over his chest and giving his best thousand-yard stare. He doesn’t focus on anything because focusing means feeling, and feeling means acknowledging that he’s shivering. Hard. So hard he swears his teeth are chattering.

No one seems to notice. Good.

Grey releases them. They disperse.

By the time he makes it to the shop, Lucy’s in the driver’s seat.

The urge to be in control is strong, but not as strong as the urge to sit down.

He’s thankful the shop is already warm, heat cranked to the max.

Lucy immediately passes him a thermos.

“Tea with honey,” she says.

Tim buckles his seatbelt and nods once. “Thanks.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m fine,” he tells her again.

Is it really that obvious?

He has to get better at hiding these things.

“Do you want an applesauce pouch? It could help your throat.”

Tim frowns. “Like the things that little kids eat?”

“Adults can eat them too,” Lucy says adamantly. He doesn’t know why he believes her. “I have apple, cinnamon, and peach mango.”

“Pass,” Tim says. “And my throat is fine.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. She hands Tim his sunglasses, which were tucked away in her breast pocket for some reason, and puts the shop in drive.

Tim puts them on without a second thought, pulls the sleeves of his coat over his hands, and crosses his arms. He stares out the window as they drive through the busy streets of LA. The morning is drizzling and overcast, but that doesn’t stop the Christmas festivities. He should be BOLOing and patrolling even from the shop, but the road ahead of him is fuzzy. There’s a tightness in his chest that builds with each passing second. He gulps and shifts in his seat, biting his bottom lip. He should be able to handle this. Whatever it is, whatever is going on with him, isn’t bad enough to cause all this drama.

He can handle it. He can handle it.

And he tries to breathe through it. He really does. But now he’s nauseous, and his mouth is salivating, and each blink hurts. His dad would kill him. His military brothers and leaders would laugh in his face and tell him to suck it up. Because that’s what he should do. That’s what he has to do. He needs to suck it up. He doesn’t know why he can’t. But the fact that he can’t means that he’s out of control and being out of control means chaos and chaos means –

“Tim?”

He swallows thickly.

“Pull over.”

She does, and Tim is barely able to open the door before he spills out onto the concrete below, coughing up nothing but bile. His stomach heaves. Everything is raw and exposed and open, and he doesn’t like this. He shouldn’t behave like this. He should be able to hold it in like he always does. But he doesn’t hold it in. Of course he doesn’t. That would take a level of discipline that he clearly doesn’t possess.

“It’s okay,” he hears. The voice is soft, kind.

Lucy’s hand is on his lower back, rubbing it in soothing circles.

He shakes his head. “’s not okay,” he mumbles, swiping at his messy chin with his hand. He hiccups, and more bile splatters on the ground below.

None of this is okay.

Tim screws his eyes shut when Lucy’s hand leaves his back.

He coughs and hunches in on himself. Maybe if he curls into the smallest, tightest ball imaginable, he can disappear. His heart hammers in his chest, skipping beats and double-timing. The rest of his body feels like it’s been stored away in a deep freezer for months on end. He tries to hide his face in his knees, but moving is a herculean effort. His limbs don’t feel like they belong to him anyway, so it’s pointless.

“Tim, hey,” he hears. The hand on his back returns and then moves to his shoulder and then to palm his forehead.

His instinct is to flinch away, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“I’m gonna clean you up a little, and then we’re gonna get you home.”

Tim shakes his head. He doesn’t know why there are tears streaming down his cheeks. He can’t remember the last time he cried, but he’s sure it wasn’t because of something as dumb or idiotic as not feeling in control.

Lucy unclenches his hands for him. Cleans them with something cold and wet. Does the same thing to his chin and the front of his coat. Tim shivers. Coughs again. Blinks rapidly. He doesn’t – maybe can’t – fully understand all of what’s happening. Delirium settles in, nestling and burrowing. He just knows one second he’s on the ground and the next he’s sagging against Lucy’s side as she helps him into the shop. She wipes his cheeks with her thumb and buckles him in, safe and sound. Tim leans on the door, pressing his cheek to the cool window, hoping that it’s enough to ground him, to help him stay in reality, to let him get back to himself in one piece.

He closes his eyes and tries to breathe through it, but things – everything – just feels wrong.

Tim isn’t sure how or when it happens, but somehow he’s in his bed. His gray comforter is soft against his skin, pulled up over his chin. He tries to roll onto his back, but he can’t seem to muster the strength. Instead, he coughs wetly and attempts to place how he got here. He’s home, so it isn’t anything sinister, and he knows Lucy was with him the whole time. His former boot wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. It’s weird to acknowledge that, to understand that someone has his back, but he knows it’s the truth.

Something wet drips from his forehead and down his cheek.

Tim blinks. His arms feel like they’re glued to his side.

“Any better?” he hears.

Lucy comes into his line of vision, kneeling down in front of him. She replaces the wet thing on his forehead – a washcloth apparently – with an icepack. Tim bites his bottom lip and winces.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “But you’re gonna hate this even more.”

Lucy invades his cocoon, exposing him to the air outside. Tim lets out a groan that’s dangerously close to a cry and shrivels in on himself. Lucy places an icepack under each armpit, and this time tears swell in his eyes. The cold is immediate and fucking hurts. Like needles. He hates needles, but she’s right: he hates this even more.

“It’s just for a few minutes. Your fever is through the roof, and you need to cool down before you fry your brain,” Lucy says.

She pulls the comforter back over him. Tim wraps his arms around himself and coughs, body shaking harshly. He chews the inside of his cheek with chattering teeth. His dad would absolutely annihilate him for this… this…

“Tim,” Lucy whispers. She’s still kneeling down in front of him. “You’re okay. This is only temporary.

He gulps. “You sure?” His voice is weak.

Everything about him is weak.

“I’m sure. Just breathe. You’ll get through this.”

Tim nods. He looks at Lucy, whose brown eyes are shining with tears, yet also full of reassurance. She’s trying to make him feel better. He ignores the desperate ache for her to hold him close, to run her fingers through his hair, for her to whisper comforts in his ear.

He breathes. Closes his eyes. Lets sleep tug him under.

[beardedmrbean]

A Florida family is no longer sending their teen to a California college after their car was "bipped" when they moved their son into his dorm on Saturday, costing them thousands of dollars in lost belongings and important personal documents.

Rhomel Crossman had just graduated from a Florida high school and was slated to attend Lincoln University in downtown Oakland this fall — but after his family was robbed, they told KTVU FOX 2 San Francisco they intend to rescind his enrollment.

"In Oakland, California, you just gotta be careful," Crossman's mother, Nerissa Murray Watson, told the outlet. "Everything is totally gone."

Crossman's family flew to Oakland on Saturday and rented a car with Thrifty, the mother said. After registering their son, the family left their rental car parked a block away from Lincoln University on the corner of 15th and Franklin Street to pick up food at a Jamaican restaurant nearby.

When they returned 15 minutes later, the windows of the rented white Nissan Rogue were broken and their five suitcases stolen.

Among their contents were "three thousand dollars in a bag my husband put under the seat with three passports, social security cards, and my son’s high school diploma and birth certificate," Watson said.

The family also lost a sleep apnea machine that they said they'd left in the car, per KTVU.

"Bipping" is a slang term that comes from the police language "burglary in progress" and refers to smash-and-grab robberies from unattended cars, according to the San Francisco Standard. Thieves commonly use a "bipping hammer," a small, easily concealed tool used to easily and quietly break car windows without much force.

Witnesses told the family they saw masked men driving in a car without a license plate in broad daylight, KTVU reported. "I didn't know that these things happen in America, so it's really strange to me," the Florida mother said. "To me, it's lawless because we even called the police station three times and they said they can't come," she said, telling the outlet that their family was told to file a police report at the station. "I have to bring my son to Florida because it's not safe here," Watson told KTVU.

KTVU and Fox News Digital did not hear back from Lincoln University at press time. UC Berkley told the California outlet that they warn students not to leave belongings in their cars and educate them about safety practices during orientation.

The city of Oakland has recently reported lower crime rates, KTVU reported, touting a violent crime rate that is 30% lower than in 2023 and a burglary rate reduced by 60%.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

For your main boys. As they're coming back from a grocery trip, they find Frisk/Chara lying unconscious in an alley, looking like they got beaten up. When the kid wakes up, they shakily explain they got dragged their by antimonsters that wanted to make them pay for freeing the monsters.

Undertale Sans - His soul sank when he noticed the kid was way too familiar. Sans runs to them and is slightly relieved when he notices they are alive. He picks them up and teleports them to the hospital. He waits with them in the exam room, so panicked he completely forgot to warn his brother and Toriel. He's so relieved when they wake up. The doctors said they're in a bad state, but that they're going to be fine. While the kid rest, Sans realizes it's really late and that Toriel might be freaking out by now, so he calls her to explain the situation, which... Well, freaks her out even more actually, but at least he warned her. Sans doesn't leave before she comes and thanks him for watching over them once again. Toriel is actually going to find him asleep next to Frisk a lot the next few days. He just cares too much.

Undertale Papyrus - He just saw a bunch of men covered in blood leave an alley and he got a bad feeling. When he saw it's not just some innocent victim but Frisk, he freaks out. Luckily he's there before they lose consciousness, trying to comfort them and keep them awake while the ambulance arrive. Papyrus stays with them the whole time and calls Toriel, Sans and Undyne on the way to the hospital. They are already here by the time they arrive. Papyrus didn't realize he was shaking before Undyne noticed it, but he gets better with his friends' support. He tells Undyne all he knows about the guys he pretty sure did that, and she arrests them in no time. Papyrus is just relieved Frisk is fine in the end. He doesn't want to know what would have happened if he hadn't noticed something was wrong with these men.

Underswap Sans - He hesitates for a moment, then feels ashamed he even hesitated. He's a police officer, he's not supposed to have preferences for victims, even though this victim is far from innocent. He drives them to the hospital, and as soon they wake up, he asks coldly what happened. As soon as Chara tries to talk with him more, he leaves. He doesn't want to hear it. He's still mad for what happened Underground and he wants them to know they're only fine because he is a good police officer. Contrary to them, Blue didn't forget what they did.

Underswap Papyrus - Even if a part of him is calling that a payback, Honey can't give up on them. He cares for Asgore, and knows the kid is important to him. He could never understand their choice to keep them, even after Honey told them the hell the child put them all for many resets, even showing him the book where he wrote down everything and that he passed from reset to reset to his other selves. He can't forgive them, but that doesn't mean he can leave them to die. He brings them to the hospital and even stay with them until they wake up. He stays cold at first, but seeing them in so much pain, he can't help but feel empathetic after a few hours. He ends up chatting with them like none of what happened Underground existed, and he feels guilty for being so weak once he gets home after Asgore arrives. He's scared he gave Asgore false hope that he might have forgiven Chara for what happened.

Underfell Sans - His first thought is honestly that Toriel is so going to kill him. The second is that, actually, he didn't do anything wrong so what the hell would Toriel kill him for. Then he finally realizes Frisk is still on the floor and that it's five minutes he's just staring. Red quickly teleports the kid back home and bandages them the best he can, trying to cover up the damages. He doesn't take them to the hospital as he doesn't trust the humans. He may maybe terrible with healing magic, but he's still more trustworthy than some random humans. He tries to hide that for as long as he can to Toriel too, but eventually, she finds out and she's... not happy with how he dealt with the situation. But Red did his best and the kid is still alive so that's fine, right? They could have died you know. For sure, Toriel didn't need to hear that and now he's running for his life, chased by angry fireballs. Maybe it's best he doesn't show up for a little while lol.

Underfell Papyrus - He's MAD. Not at Frisk, at himself. Since they're on the Surface, Edge swore to protect Frisk during their ambassador's duty. He saw the kid in the morning and they were fine, and now they're almost dead. That's a huge failure as a guardian and he can't help but blame himself for this. He runs to the hospital with Frisk in his hands, and once he's sure they're going to recover from this, he goes to hunt down whoever did this. They better hide because as soon as Edge finds them, they're dead. Once he's done, he doesn't leave Frisk's side the whole time they need to recover fully from this. He struggles to let them go even after this.

Horrortale Sans - Of course, it had to be him who found them. Oak thinks that's a sick joke of fate or something. He doesn't want to do anything with Frisk, but he's still too nice to let them die like this. He drops them to the hospital, refuses to give his name, and abandons them. Frisk feels bad when they learn a small skeleton saved their life... Once again...

Horrortale Papyrus - His soul sank when he understood who is unconscious in front of him. Willow got resentful at Frisk at some point, but not anymore. Anyway, he's pretty sure the kid, who is not a kid anymore actually, doesn't remember him. He already lost Undyne by refusing to help someone he feels angry at, he's not doing that again. He calls an ambulance, and even follows Frisk to the hospital, to make sure they are ok. Once Frisk is awake, Willow gives them his phone number if they want him to witness if they ever find who did this, and shyly wish them to recover before leaving. Frisk is too shocked to say anything, simply staring at him like they see a ghost.

Swapfell Sans - Well, well, well. If it isn't karma coming back to haunt you. Chara is still awake when he arrives, and they already know he's not going to help, still begging him, just in case. It's no use. Nox is done with them, he hates them with all he has. His only act of mercy is to throw a bone through their heart to end them. Not that it matters. Like the Underswap brothers, he knows resets are a thing thanks to some old files he saw on an old computer, and he knows the kid murdered them all several times. They're just going to reset, who cares. But they'll reset knowing he killed them, which is satisfying enough for him. He goes home not feeling an ounce of guilt.

Swapfell Papyrus - Chara begs him to do something, crawling on the floor. Rus smirks, takes a picture, waves them goodbye and leaves. Like hell he's helping his tormentor. He didn't forget what he saw on that screen either. You got into that mess, then finds a way out of it by yourself.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Hum... The temptation. He could save them... But he could take them as a hostage too to blackmail Toriel which is very tempting right now. He needs them alive anyway to become a hostage so he brings them back home. He can't wait to see Toriel freak out when she will realize where is their precious baby human child. Oh, he's not going to do anything to them, he actually likes them, but they don't need to know they're getting used to blackmail Toriel either.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's freaking out. Coffee really likes the kid, so seeing them just lying still like this... He really thought they were dead. So yeah, in the panic, he called Toriel and Asgore that Chara was dead. Then he checked if they were breathing. ... Oh. Chara is actually not even that hurt, they got knocked out but that's all. Coffee feels so ashamed he scared the King and Queen for nothing he picks Chara and teleports straight to his closet before they arrive. Now he's freaking out at home, wondering how the hell he's going to get out of this mess. How the hell could he mess up such an easy task?!