#so I’ll just continue to be horribly anxious all the time

[anonymous-depressed-figure]

I’m having so many problems at work and I keep getting yelled at and I’m so unmotivated and my rooms a mess and I’m a mess and I want to die 🫠

[another-lost-mc]

Bedside Manner

Beel gets sick and both of you are in denial.

Beelzebub x gn!Reader

SFW // Content: (Domestic) Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to More-Than-Friends. Family dynamics, other demon brothers/characters mentioned, brief descriptions of minor illness. 4.9k words.

It’s not unusual for you to visit Beel when he has Fangol practice after school. You’ve taken an interest in his hobbies and he keeps you up to date with his practice and game schedule. Sometimes you leave the RAD campus later than his brothers; it makes sense for you to wait for him so you can both walk home together.

Today, you stayed behind to review instructions for an upcoming assignment. You can hear distant sounds from the Fangol field while you scribble a few notes into your workbook. When you’re finished, you wave goodbye to the professor and head outside to find Beel.

When you arrive, your attention is immediately drawn to a small group of players gathered around one of the bleachers. Someone notices your approach and waves you over; the frown on his face worries you.

You have a bad feeling already but when you get closer, you realize something is going on with Beel. His voice has a slight wheeze like he’s having trouble catching his breath and he looks awful. His face is pale except for the flush tinting his cheeks, and his skin is tinged a sickly shade of green. You don’t think all the sweat dotting his hairline is from practice, either.

His teammate pulls you aside. “He nearly collapsed during the last set of drills—“

“I did not!” Beel insists weakly from his seat, but the tremor in his voice is hardly convincing.

“—and we’re sending him home for the day. We don’t want to worry about him losing consciousness before he gets there.”

You glance at Beel and try not to panic. “What’s wrong with him?” He eats so much food but you can’t imagine it’s food poisoning from lunch that afternoon. Only Solomon’s cooking is horrible enough to upset Beel’s stomach, and he’s in the human world right now.

His teammate shrugs. “Probably just the flu. He should be fine in a few days but he needs to rest.”

You’ve heard of the Devildom flu, but Beel has never been this sick before and you’re more than a little anxious.

Beel sits with his head in his hands while most of his friends disperse and go back to their drills. The thought of walking home with him alone makes you nervous - there’s no way you can help him if he does pass out.

You touch his shoulder gently to get his attention, and you can feel the chills raking through his body. “Are you okay, Beel? Ready to go home?”

He looks up when he hears your voice, but his attempt to smile at you looks more like a grimace. “Yeah, let’s go,” he mumbles as he stands up on shaky legs. He takes an ambitious step forward but he stumbles, and he sits back down when his lingering teammates prevent him from falling over. 

Right - walking home alone is a no-go, then.

You look through your bag and pull out your D.D.D. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

The House of Lamentation (8) You: Is anyone still at RAD, or close by? Mammon: Nah, I’m on my way to a photo shoot. Leviathan: I’m checking out the new gacha machine downtown but I’m not far. Satan: I’m in the school library. You: I’m at Beel’s Fangol practice and he’s sick. He needs help getting home. Leviathan: On second thought, I’m actually very busy right now. Satan: Seriously? Leviathan: I don't want to die if Beel falls over and crushes me! Satan: And you think it would be better for Beel to crush MC instead? Lucifer: It seems like I should put parental controls back on the Akuzon account. Leviathan: Wait, I’m on my way!

Despite Levi’s initial protests, he arrives on the Fangol field not long after Satan does. They manage to keep Beel upright for the walk home while you continue texting Lucifer about his condition. Belphie is waiting anxiously at the front door by the time you arrive, and he helps his brothers take Beel to their shared bedroom.

You deposit your school bag in your room and head to the kitchen. Lucifer is cooking tonight and he happily accepts your offer to help (and your company); you’re worried about Beel and need a distraction. He tries to soothe your anxieties - it’s not much worse than a human cold, he’ll be better in a couple of days - but Lucifer’s words are a poor comfort to you.

You can’t help but think of Beel, one of the strongest demons you’ve met in the Devildom, literally brought to his knees before you by something like a cold. It’s more upsetting than you want to admit and you have no idea how you can help him.

Dinner that night is a quiet affair and it’s odd. Mammon isn’t home yet from his modeling gig and Beel is resting in his room; their absences are noticeable. The others don’t seem to mind, but you miss Beel’s vocal enthusiasm while he eats - he’s always complimenting the food and he’s so appreciative of whoever cooked that night. 

Lucifer sets aside a plate of food for Beel and you offer to take it to him. When you knock on his door, Belphie’s quiet voice beckons you inside. He looks at the plate in your hands skeptically, but shrugs and goes back to reading the book in his lap.

Beel groans and rolls over when he hears you enter the room. His eyes brighten when he sees you, but he shakes his head at the food you’ve brought him. You hoped he would be willing to eat something, even if it’s just a small amount. Belphie offers to dispose of the plate for you and leaves the room.

When you’re alone with Beel, you sit on the edge of his bed and hold his clammy hand in yours. He squeezes your hand back, weaker than you expect, and you realize you’re uncomfortably close to crying for some reason.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you ask him worriedly. 

He shivers under his pile of blankets. “Maybe some soup tomorrow,” he croaks. “I don’t want anything right now.” He doesn’t say anything else as his eyes slip shut and his head tilts to the side.

Belphie returns and goes back to reading his book, but you don’t notice when he glances at you occasionally from the corner of his eye.

You remain at Beel’s side until his grip on your hand grows limp.

You: Are you still in the human world? Solomon: For the moment. The meeting took longer than I anticipated and I have a few more errands to run before I return to Purgatory Hall. Why? You: Can you pick up a few items for me? I’ll pay you back. Solomon: No need to pay me back if you agree to have dinner with me instead. I have a new recipe I’d love to make for you. You: Oh. You: How about lunch at Hell’s Kitchen next week? I might be too busy in the evenings if Beel is still sick. Solomon: You drive a hard bargain, my dear. Send me your list and I’ll see you soon.

The next morning you head straight to the kitchen so you can start preparing homemade soup for Beel. It’s a recipe that you used to make for yourself back home. You hope it’s more enticing to him than the heavier Devildom fare his brothers might try to feed him; you want to avoid a repeat of last night’s dinner attempt.

Solomon did as you asked and bought all the human world items on your grocery list, including enough ingredients to make two large batches of chicken soup. You offered to give him a small container of soup when it’s ready, as a token of appreciation, and he readily accepted.

It’s supposed to be Mammon’s turn to cook today, but he won’t have to worry about dinner because there’s going to be enough soup for everyone. He got home late from his photo shoot last night, but you think he can still handle making a simple breakfast on his own.

You’re chopping onions, carrots and celery for a mirepoix base when Mammon finally drags himself into the kitchen. His hair is sticking up all over, and dark smudges from the eye makeup he didn’t remove before bed make him look like a very fetching raccoon. 

“Good morning, Mammon,” you say cheerfully.

He mumbles something that you think is supposed to be a greeting, and he starts making breakfast - sort of. He tosses a random assortment of whole fruits onto a plate and puts it on the table. He grabs a loaf of bread, looks back and forth between the bread and the toaster, then he unplugs the toaster and puts that on the table too.

“What are you doing?” you ask him curiously while trying not to laugh.

“They can make themselves toast,” he yawns. “I’m going back to bed.” He shuffles away and you can hear the faint sound of his door slamming not long after.

You decide to take pity on him and help him out since you’re already in the mood to cook. It’s not too much extra work to cut up the fruit he picked out and make a fruit salad with it. You make a pan of scrambled eggs with a sprinkling of Hellfire cheese. Finally, you put the toaster back in the kitchen where it belongs.

You’re buttering toast when the other demon brothers start to trickle in (Mammon excluded, of course). Satan makes a beeline for the coffee maker while Asmo offers to set the table. Lucifer doesn’t look impressed when you explain why you’re making breakfast instead of Mammon.

When they’re all seated at the table, you give everyone a head’s up that you're making a human world soup recipe for dinner that evening. Belphie looks like he wants to say something, but when you raise your eyebrow questioningly he just smirks and takes another bite of his toast.

You also mention that the other items Solomon picked up for you - a case of ginger ale in the fridge and a box of saltines in the cupboard - are off-limits. There’s a low grumble of complaints about that. But when you remind them that you helped Mammon make breakfast for them, they know better than to squander their good fortune.

(Lucifer makes a note to speak to Mammon about his abuse of kitchen appliances later.)

The Angels (3) Simeon: Good morning. Luke: We heard you’re making soup from one of your human world recipes! Simeon: Solomon told us about it this morning and he’s very eager to try it. Luke: Simeon wants to have some too. He and Solomon argued because Solomon doesn’t want to share. You: I can bring enough for all three of you. Simeon: That would be wonderful, thank you. You: You know, all this cooking has put me in the mood for some freshly-baked cookies. Luke: You got it!

While the soup is simmering on the stove, you visit Beel to see how he’s doing. Belphie’s been doing his best to keep him hydrated, but he’s still reluctant to eat very much of anything. He’s sleeping when you check on him; Belphie invites you inside but you don’t want to wake him by accident. 

“I think he was asking for you earlier,” Belphie mentions off-handedly when you’re about to leave. “I told him you were going to bring him lunch and he went back to sleep.”

You go back to your room and relax. You wonder why Beel asked for you, and you ignore how nice it feels that he did.

The Royals (3) Diavolo: It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to visit with you. Diavolo: Do you have any plans this afternoon? You: Beel isn’t feeling well so I’m helping his brothers care for him. Diavolo: That’s all the more reason for you to enjoy a well-deserved break. You: Let me guess - someone told you about the soup. Who was it? Diavolo: No one. Barbatos: Luke told us about it earlier, my Lord. Diavolo: One of the angels might have mentioned it in passing. You: I can come for a short visit after I stop by Purgatory Hall. I have extra soup I can bring for both of you. Barbatos: I’ll have tea and sandwiches prepared for your arrival. Diavolo: I look forward to seeing you.

The soup is finished and you’ve portioned everything into containers just before lunchtime. You label three of them for the freezer and set them aside. You have one large container ready for your friends in Purgatory Hall, another container for Diavolo and Barbatos, and the rest are for Beel and his brothers.

Belphie sends you a message letting you know that Beel’s awake and is willing to try eating something. You prepare a tray with a small bowl of soup, ginger ale from the fridge, and a handful of saltine crackers. You pass Belphie on the way to their bedroom - he yawns and tells you he’s going to the attic to sleep.

When you enter their bedroom, Beel is propped up with a bunch of pillows against his headboard. He looks a bit better than he did last night, but not by much. You set the tray on the nightstand and pull over a chair so you can sit next to him.

“How are you feeling today?” you ask quietly. 

He turns away from you and coughs. “Not bad,” his poor voice croaks. You can’t help but smile when his mouth twists into a pout at the way his voice sounds. 

“I made you some soup,” you tell him when you set the tray on your lap for him to see. 

“You made this for me?” His eyes widen a bit and he stares at you.

Your face feels warm all of a sudden and you look down and stir the soup to distract yourself from the sensation. “Of course. You asked for soup last night and this is what I like to eat back home when I’m sick.”

He looks stunned by your admission, like he has trouble believing you would do that for him, but he accepts the tray you slide onto his lap.

You explain the items on his lunch tray: the soup (“It’s sort of like a roasted roc soup”); the ginger ale (“It’s a little sweet and bubbly”); and the saltines (“They’re bland but easy to eat when you don’t have an appetite”). He’s so genuinely interested in what you’ve prepared that it makes the effort feel worthwhile.

You can tell there’s a problem right away when he picks up the spoon and tries to eat. His hand is shaking slightly - from hunger or exhaustion or both - and a little bit of the soup spills back onto the tray. He drops the spoon with a frustrated grunt and exhales; you hate the way you can hear his lungs rattle when he tries to breathe too deeply. You help steady his tray when he coughs.

He’s visibly frustrated and he looks away from you like he’s ashamed. “I can’t even hold a spoon properly, and you made this for me.” He grumbles under his breath about wasting your time and wasting the food you made him.

You motion for him to move over a bit, and he shimmies his hips so you can sit on the edge of the bed. You lift the spoon with a bit of soup, blow on it gently to cool it, and hold it in front of his mouth. You hope he doesn’t think you’re treating him like a child. You decide these are special circumstances because you know he’s normally a very proud and capable demon.

He doesn’t hesitate though, because he opens his mouth and swallows the soup down. You freeze in place, worrying whether or not his stomach can tolerate it, if he even likes it–

But he smiles a true, genuine Beel smile for the first time in what feels like ages, and you can’t help the delighted chuckle that escapes you. When he nods, you lift another spoonful to his lips. You help him slowly eat his meal. When you leave his room nearly thirty minutes later, Beel is sleeping contentedly and the dishes on his lunch tray are empty. 

Once Beel is fed and resting again, you deliver soup to your friends at Purgatory Hall and the Demon Lord’s castle. Luke hands you a giant tin of cookies before you leave, and Barbatos packs up the leftover sandwiches for you to take back to the House of Lamentation. You put your goodies in the fridge with the small hope that Beel might be better enough to have some with you in a day or two.

When it’s time for dinner later that evening, you return to Beel’s room with another tray of bland food and warm soup. You decide to take a larger portion of soup this time and hope his appetite has improved since lunch.

You enter his room and notice that Beel is awake - and still looks quite unwell - but he seems happy to see you. Belphie is nowhere to be seen.

You sit on Beel’s bed again and feed him spoonfuls of soup at a slow, steady pace. His throat doesn’t sound as raspy, and he tries to make small talk between careful sips of his dinner. It takes a little longer, but he finishes the bigger portion of soup without a problem.

You stack the empty dishes on the tray and stand up, but his hand suddenly reaches out to you - he can’t reach your arm, so he grasps the hem of your shirt instead.

“Wait,” he murmurs suddenly. “Can you stay for a while?” The look in his eyes is pleading, and you assume he’s lonely from being stuck in his room. Since he’s gotten sick, he’s only had you and Belphie for company. Most of his brothers have stayed away to avoid getting sick too, and Beel hasn’t been using his D.D.D. much since he’s spent most of the day sleeping.

Whatever his reason is, you’re happy to stay and visit longer if he’s feeling sociable. The joy that flickers across his face when you sit back down makes you feel shy all of a sudden.

You don’t talk very much though - he’s still coughing and he seems exhausted again. He smiles and thanks you quietly when you offer to get him some more water, or when you lean over and fluff the pillows propping him up. You sit in comfortable silence.

When he’s ready to sleep for the night, he rolls onto his side and stretches out his arm so his hand is palm-up next to yours. You lace your fingers together, and he squeezes your hand so carefully - whether it’s because he’s still weak, or if he’s trying to be especially gentle with you, it’s hard to say.

His eyes close and he starts to snore lightly, and he doesn’t hear your whispered promise to return tomorrow before you finally leave his side.

While Belphie and his brothers are eating breakfast together the next morning, you put your breakfast on a tray alongside Beel's and head to his room. When you get there, he’s already awake and sitting up in bed. You can tell immediately that he’s feeling better - his skin doesn’t look as green as it did, and his eyes seem clearer and more alert.

He sent you a message earlier that morning asking if he could try some different foods today. You made yourself some oatmeal with cinnamon and chunks of poison apple; you sliced the rest of the apple for Beel.

You take your usual seat on the bed beside him and balance the tray on his lap. You eat a few spoonfuls of your own breakfast first while he reaches for an apple slice and takes a hesitant bite; when he manages to keep it down, he eats the rest quickly.

When he's ready to eat his soup, you pick up the spoon out of habit and he waits expectantly, opening his mouth when you bring each spoonful of hearty soup to his lips.

“The soup is almost gone,” you mention casually while he sips his ginger ale and nibbles on some saltines. “Two big pots doesn’t last long when it comes to feeding a bunch of demons.”

He has a bashful smile on his face. “I still can’t believe you went to that trouble for me,” he admits. He nods towards the soup in your hands when he’s ready for more.

“I was scared when I saw how sick you were. I don’t mind doing things like this for you, if it helps you feel better.” The confession feels intimate and you smile bashfully. 

He catches your gaze when the bowl is empty and he’s finished eating. The look in his eyes is startlingly intense, but when you think he’s about to say something, he shakes his head. 

“I’m still hungry. Is there more soup left?”

It’s the first time he’s asked for seconds of anything since he got sick and you can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face.

“Of course there is!” You tidy up a bit and put all the other empty dishes on the tray. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promise when you head to the door. “Don’t go anywhere!” You wink at him playfully and rush off to the kitchen.

By the time you return with more food, Belphie is back from breakfast and stretched out on his bed. He and Beel are talking about him going to school next week.

“There's no need to rush,” you warn Beel gently when you sit back down on his bed. “Take a day or two off if you need it. I can always bring you your homework so you don’t fall behind.”

Same as before, you help Beel eat his second helping of soup. Belphie makes a surprised noise across the room but you don’t bother glancing over - you’re too focused on making sure you don’t spill anything on Beel or his bed.

What does concern you is the new flush spreading across Beel’s cheeks. Did he push himself too far this morning?

The bowl is nearly empty when you set it on the nightstand. You raise the back of your hand to Beel’s forehead, as pointless as that is - demons have different body temperatures than humans do. You have no idea whether or not his temperature is in a normal range, but you’re still concerned for him.

“I should let you sleep, I don’t want you to overdo it.” Beel looks like he wants to argue but you reach for his hand. “Take it easy. I promise I’ll be back with your lunch later, and you can text me if you need anything.”

You gather the bowl and turn towards Belphie who looks utterly amused for some reason. You wish he’d take Beel’s condition just a little more seriously. 

“He’s flushed again, can you make sure he’s not getting another fever?” you ask him. 

“Oh, I think he’s just fine,” Belphie muses with a smirk. You have no idea what that means, but you wave goodbye to them both and head to the kitchen to tidy up.

Once you’re gone, Belphie glances at his twin who is determined to avoid eye contact with him all of a sudden.

“So, how’s that ‘fever’ of yours, Beel?” Belphie asks innocently. 

Beel throws a pillow at his brother’s face with surprising strength.

Despite your initial worries, that morning seems to be the turning point in Beel’s recovery. When you bring him lunch a few hours later, he’s sitting up in bed reading a sports magazine. You plate up the remaining soup and saltines, plus a generous portion of fruit salad. You set his tray on the nightstand so you can go back to the kitchen for your own lunch.

He’s already spooning soup into his mouth hungrily when you rejoin him. His hand isn’t shaking like it was before, and you’re so happy to see him acting more like himself. He’s not coughing as much now, and it’s enjoyable to eat a proper meal together again.

Beel makes quick work of his lunch. His face falls with obvious disappointment when you remind him that the soup you made is all finished. You hand him half of your sandwich in consolation - leftovers that Barbatos gave you yesterday - and he wolfs it down. 

By dinner time, Beel is up and shuffling around the house - a bit slower than usual, sure - but you’re amazed at how much better he’s doing. Belphie comes to your room to see you while Beel showers in the bathroom down the hall.

“This is typical for demons,” he tells you with a shrug. “Once the worst passes, it doesn’t take long for us to bounce back.”

“I’m glad he’s feeling better.” For reasons you don’t quite understand, or maybe you do but you don’t want to admit them to Belphie, your eyes tear up. It’s like an emotional dam bursts inside you, and tears start rolling down your cheeks.

You think Belphie’s going to tease you, but he wraps you in a hug instead and lets you cry into his shoulder. “He’s lucky to have you,” he murmurs. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget it.”

House of Lamentation (8) Satan: How are you feeling tonight, Beel? Beelzebub: Better. I’m starving. Satan: It’s my turn to prepare dinner. Is there anything in particular you want? Beelzebub: A Gigadeath burger. Leviathan: LOL Beelzebub: With extra cheese. Satan: That’s not what I meant. Beelzebub: And a large milkshake. Beelzebub: Actually, make that two Gigadeath burgers. Satan: Forget that I asked. You: You should’ve known better. Lucifer: Indeed.

Nearly two weeks after he had the flu, Beel is rummaging in the kitchen for something to make for dinner. He just got home from practice and he forgot it's his turn to cook tonight.

Any lingering symptoms of the Devildom flu have long since passed, and he’s back to his regular club activities. He doesn’t get sick often which is why the severity of his initial symptoms caught everyone off-guard. The first day or two are still a hazy blur of disjointed memories, but there’s one thing he does remember with clarity above all else.

He ignores Belphie’s teasing and not-so-subtle hints about you, and your feelings for him, and his feelings for you. Beel tells his brother he doesn’t want to misinterpret how sweet and loving your gestures felt when he was sick; Belphie tells him he’s an idiot and that he’s in denial.

Sure, you took care of him when he was sick, but only because you’re a thoughtful person. You made him food because it was a way to show him you care. When he saw you tear up on the sidelines of his first Fangol practice after his illness, it was because you were thrilled to see him back to his normal self.

You’re just a friend, Beel thinks. A kind, warm, beautiful friend.

But he secretly likes the way you spend more time in his room now, and how you invite him to the kitchen and teach him more about your favourite foods. You accompany him when he goes shopping for snacks after school. You always offer to share what you buy for yourself, and he does the same for you.

On a particularly warm day, he took you to a diner after class and ordered a large sundae for you to split. You didn’t notice there was chocolate lingering at the corner of your mouth. He pointed it out to you before he did something selfish like swipe it away with his finger, or his tongue.

You’re just a friend, he reminds himself more and more often these days.

Beel doesn’t learn until later that you agreed to a lunch date with Solomon in exchange for the ingredients you needed to make his soup. He spent most of that night complaining to his brother about that damn sorcerer taking advantage of your generous nature.

Belphie just smirked at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he suggested that Beel make his move before someone else does.

Maybe he is in denial.

His stomach grumbles hungrily and he has to shove aside thoughts of you so he can focus on making dinner for everyone. He checks the cupboards and fridge but nothing catches his interest. He’s starving, but he’s not sure food is the only thing he wants anymore.

He opens the freezer and notices a stack of containers he doesn’t recognize. They’re pushed to the back like someone was trying to hide them on purpose. He grabs one and stares at the label written on the lid:

Beel’s Soup ♡

He puts the container back in the freezer and heads straight to your room.

The Demon Brothers (7) Beelzebub: Can someone cover cooking duty for me tonight? Lucifer: This is sudden. Why the change of plans? Beelzebub: I’m taking MC on a date. Mammon: Wait, what?! Satan: Have fun. Asmodeus: Aww, they’re so cute! ♡ Leviathan: Gross. Belphegor: FINALLY.

Read more: Beel Masterlist | Obey Me! Masterlist

[nishisun]

DOCTOR’S PET — MATSUKAWA ISSEI.

paring: optometrist!issei x reader

summery: you should’ve known something was up when you stumbled across that sketchy advertisement... dr. matsukawa is a fucking nut job.

warnings: nsfw, dub-con, fingering, vaginal penetration, manipulation, uses of vibrator, he’s like in his 40’s, reader is in her 20s. PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE BELOW.

a/n: suprise! i am not back, but i realized that i had 14 drafts so i am queuing them because i will soon deactivating this blog, but i’m not sure yet. i’m not sure if this work is finished, so i apologize for any cliff hangers my works have! this was originally written back in late 2020, so excuse the writing if it’s horrible. thank you for the support i received in this blog! i do plan on creating a new blog so this work may be transported to that one if it seems familiar, but i will also make note of that to avoid confusion.

It should not have gotten to this.

Seriously. You’d think that as medical school enrollments expanded the system would do the best they could and resolve the physician shortage by adding more residency slots in the Miyagi Prefecture. That wasn’t the case at all.

In fact, all the residencies and medical internships you’ve applied for haven’t gotten back to you. It’s been over a month now, and the only emails you’ve received from them are ‘I’m sorry to inform you’ letters and ‘waitlisted’. Not even one acceptance letter. It sucked.

Just when you lost hope, you stumbled across an article for one that was unrealistically near you.

‘Medical Internships Available for Upcoming Optometrist! Miyagi’s Hospital Center: Medical Training Program ran by Dr. Matsukawa Issei, MD. Location: Dr. Matsukawa’s Office.’

It sounded way too good to be true... and it was only a 15-minute drive from your place..? Out of mere curiosity, you clicked on the advertisement without a second thought and ah — there it was; a catch.

Only one person could be accepted.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, so you filled the application anyways and hoped for the best.

And for some odd reason, you were actually selected.

You don’t know how, but you actually got chosen. Now here you are, in front of his office in your car. You take one last anxious look in your rear-view mirror, reassuring yourself that you looked somewhat presentable before gathering your belongings and heading to the entrance.

“Here goes nothing.”

Once you push past the doors, you couldn’t help but notice how empty the lobby was. There weren’t any patients waiting, and the T.V used for entertainment purposes was off. Maybe the office was closed? You brush these thoughts off before turning your head to be greeted by a lady. She seemed young, about the same age as you or a little bit older.

“Hello?” she calls, she doesn’t bother looking up at you as she continues to type away on the computer. You turn your head around swiftly to face her, offering an awkward smile.

“Oh! Uh, Hi! I came for Dr. Matsukawa’s internship program?” The woman makes a face that you can’t read — confusion, you might say? Either way, she does an excellent job concealing it as she rolls a pen and a few papers your way.

“Fill these forms out for me and I’ll tell Dr. Matsukawa that you’re ready for him.” she explains, giving you a tight lipped smile.

You take the papers and pen, taking a seat on one of the many comfortable chairs in the room. You finished filling out the form rather quickly, getting up to return the papers back to the front desk, until you suddenly hear bickering. It sounds like the lady that was at the front desk not too long ago and oh, a male voice too. Although you shouldn’t, you let your curiosity get the best of you.

“Hey, is everything okay here — oh.”

It’s the doctor himself. He raises an eyebrow at you, his attention that was once on the lady was now at you, then looking down at the folders he was currently holding, rummaging through them. He looks back at you, using his pointer finger to gently lift up his glasses. 

“You must be L/N?” he clears his voice, as if he wasn’t just arguing with the lady next to him seconds ago, waiting for you to reply.

Dr. Matsukawa is extremely attractive.

The hell? Since when did you have a thing for older men? Is that wrong to say? He looks like a very busy man, even though there were no patients currently in the office. There’s a huge height difference between him and the lady and the way he has to look down at you leaves you with no choice but to close bite on your bottom lip.

Your eyes wander down to his lower body, meeting the dress shoes he was currently wearing, and from there, your eyes take in the tight black pants and the way his fitted navy blue shirt outlined his abs slightly, his white lab coat topping the outfit.

“Ms. L/N?” The man calls out again, his fingers gripping the stacks of files in his hand a bit tighter as he gave you a concerned look. Your head jerks up immediately to face Dr. Matsukawa, your stomach doing flips when you make eye contact with him. “Ms. L/N Y/N is your name. Am I correct?”

You gulp, eagerly nodding your head. “Uh, Yeah — Yes. Yes, that’s my name.” You stammered. You break eye contact with the doctor, eyes drifting to the lady standing next to him.

Dr. Matsukawa flashes you a bright smile before giving you a firm nod, lifting his arm to direct you to another room. “You can follow me — Is everything alright, miss?”

“Y-Yes!” You mindlessly shake your head, struggling to move your feet from where they’re planting. You’ve suddenly realized how unprofessional you’ve been acting and it’s because of the extremely hot doctor in front of you.

“Please, take a seat.”

He’s taken you to a.. patients room..? You were expecting an office. You’re assuming this is where he’ll be discussing the activities you’ll be doing today. You take a seat in the medical recliner, examining the room as he brings out your information in a folder. “Your files show that you’re a really good student, who has a great amount of experience on leadership skills and opportunities,” he affirmed. He looks up at you, shifting in his seat as he continues to look over your papers.

“Uh, Yes, that’s true. I can name some—“

“Let’s get straight to the objective for today, shall we?” The way he suddenly interrupted you by slamming the folder together causes you to flinch, there’s a sudden mischief in his eyes that cause your throat to dry up, and now he’s staring at you. Like boring his eyes on you waiting for a response. You swallow hardly before nodding, causing him to grin. “I’ve already reviewed everything I need to know about you. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

He’s nice. Weird, but nice. Which doesn’t help because his odd (yes, odd) behavior was turning you to someone who you weren’t, which was shy. You’d like to say you’re a pretty confident and outgoing person who’s able to maintain eye contact and keep a conversation going with others, but for some reason, this man in front of you was different.

“I’m going to be running some test. I hope that’s fine with you?” He announced, leaning foward while adjusting the nobs on the lamp. You should be asking questions, you should, because you didn’t know this interview would require “tests”. You don’t even care to at this point, you’re just grateful you got selected, so you nod your head. “Perfect. I’ll start by checking your eyesight.”

“Uh, Dr. Matsukawa, forgive me for overstepping , but what do these test have to do with the internship?” The doctor hums in acknowledgment, leaning down so he can get a good look at your eyes through the lens.

“Can you see the dot?”

You squint your eyes so you can see the so called ‘dot’ he’s talking about more clearly “Yes, I can, but—“

“This was mentioned and is definitely part of the internship Ms. L/N. Did you not read the form?” He sighs, writing some notes down in his paper and you can’t even feel guilty because you’re too distracted at how big his hands are, huge knuckles and veiny. How can someone’s hand be so attractive?

“Well, I did but I just didn’t really see where it said that on the form, so I didn’t think that you’d be running some ‘tests’.” You quote his words from earlier, nervously chuckling. He sighs again.

“I’m going to test your eye pressure.” He stands up, holding an object similar to a pointer. He moves towards you, pointing to the red dot on the wall across the room.

“Keep your eyes focused on the dot and try not to blink. This won’t hurt, but it may feel uncomfortable.” You nod once again, resting your hands on your lap as Dr. Matsukawa squats in front of you so he’s eye-level with you. He gently places his hand in your knee, causing you to flinch.

Seriously, get your shit together.

“Are you alright? He basically snickered, you’re pretty sure he can feel the warmth radiating at your core.

You nod your head, eyes locking into the dot, cheeks heating up and turning into a bright pink shade. Dr. Matsukawa positions the equipment right in front of your eye before pressing a button that activated the device to blow a puff of air into your eye, causing you to blink.

“We’ll try again.” He maintains eye contact, refocusing the device on the center of your eye as his hand that was on your thigh slight reaches higher, going under your pencil skirt causing you to flinch again.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, letting out an extremely nervous sigh.

“I’m going to hold your head so you don’t pull away. Is that alright with you?” He explains, giving you so soft smile.

You nod your head rather keenly. Your heart flutters at the contact, the grip on the back of your neck not too tight but strong enough to prevent your head from moving.

He starts the device again, watching you fight the urge to blink. He smiles when you don’t blink, removing his hand from the back of your neck.

“Good girl. You just need someone to keep you in place, yeah?” his other hand rubs your thigh and you couldn’t help the whimper slips out your mouth at the nickname.

Dear God help you. It’s like this man knows that you find him attractive.

“Yeah..” you answer, he stands up with the equipment, writing some notes down on his note book before closing it.

“We have one more test and that’ll be all for today.” He leaves the room for a short period of time and comes back with the other lady from before, she’s carrying a box and places it right next to you.

Dr. Matsukawa follows behind the lady, taking a seat across from you. Why the hell did they look like they were about to dissect your body?

“Do you know what’s inside that box?” he beamed, you turned your head to look at the box the lady had placed next to you, tilting your head and slightly squinting your eyes so you could get a better look at the text.

‘Magic Wand — Vibrator Sex Toy.’

What. The. Fuck.

Dr. Matsukawa grins when he watches the harsh breath you take, the lady next to him staring to the side with a bored look.

“W...What’s that for?” You eyes remain staring at the box.

He grins, “You do know what this is used for, right Ms. L/N?” You stare back up at him, swallowing hard.

“Is... Is this why you put these restraints on me?” Your eyes are filled with pure terror, your breathing becoming uneven when Dr. Matsukawa chuckles darkly. What was going on in your head when you willingly let him tie your hands up?

“No need to fret,” He attempts to touch you and you only flinch in response. “What, you can’t handle getting touched by a vibrator?”

You cringe at his word choice, shaking your head when he takes a closer step at you.

“Also,” He’s hot in your face, your breath hitches when you remember that you two aren’t the only ones in the room. You look over to the lady with a pleading look, but she only looks away. “I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at my most naughtiest places, Ms. L/N.”

“No... No! It’s not like that I swear!—“

He swiftly faces away from you and you bite your bottom lip. “But of course, if you’re not comfortable with this, I won’t force you. I’m not into stuff like that anyways.”

It’s only then you finally remember to breathe, you shift uncomfortably when he places a hand in your thigh.

“But you’re a good girl, right? You know how to follow directions.” It takes a while to register his words, you’re too busy in your own world, wondering how the hell you got yourself in this position. You don’t even notice his hand was cupping your cheek.

“You see,” he starts, “I don’t want to hurt you.. I just want to study you. That’s all.” He assured with that charming smile that could get you to obey his every order.

So you nod.

“Perfect!” he gleams, “Nina, would you mind stepping to the side for me?”

She follows his request, clipboard in her hand. You give her an unsure look and she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. You don’t blame her.

“Nina over here took her test 3 years ago,” He announces, “Took it like a pro, isn’t that right, Nina?”

She glared at Dr. Matsukawa, before nodding, “Yeah.”

“She’s a very hard working doctor and very successful, too. You should see her when the office is open! Handles the patients so well.”

He continues to ramble and proceeds to remove the object from out of the box, placing a battery and flicking the switch on.

“Wait!” you yelp, he switches off the vibrator and gives you a confused look. “What— what does this have to do with the internship? And what were the eye test for?”

“I’m going to review your vision before and after you achieve an orgasm.” he deadpans.

Your head cocks to the side, in fact, you feel light headed and you wonder how he said something like that so casually.

“You see, I’ve noticed that you’ve been holding your breath quite a lot every since you’ve gotten here, and I can’t help but wonder if you’ll do the same while your vagina is being stimulated.” you blankly stare, waiting for him to continue. “If this is true, and you do hold your breath while you orgasm, you could temporarily lose eye sight, or receive blurred vision due to the pressure that would be building up in your eyes.”

Help. Someone help. This man has lost his fucking mind. And the lady, Nina, why the hell is she not saying anything? Did she seriously go through this too?

Your jaw gapes as well as your eyes, staring at Dr. Matsukawa with a frightened look. Maybe you shouldn’t have applied for this internship. And then the dam finally breaks.

Honestly, you’re surprised you didn’t start crying when he restrained you. You’re absolutely too frightened to even fight back at this point, and even though he said you didn’t have to, you’re too afraid to speak at the moment. If you knew you’d meet crazy doctors like this, you would’ve quit med school.

“This causes your blood vessels in your eye to burst and trigger a small hemorrhage and temporary vision loss.” You let out a sob, “But don’t worry, it’s temporary.”

Like that was supposed to help.

He gently pats your head before placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s okay if you don’t want to do it, baby.”

You face the floor as he rubs his thumb softly over your cheek. You find comfort as he cups your cheek, it’s almost as if it’s only the two of you there.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you, dear. I’m just so very excited because I’ve never met someone so... Inspiring,” You lift your head up to face him, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “With such leadership skills you have, I’m truly greatful you accepted this internship. I honestly find a strong interest in you, too.” His hand travels down your sides, pushing you closer to him.

“Really?” it’s barely above a whisper, breath hitching when his lips softly brush against yours. He nods against your lips, just about to bring them in before he hears a soft ‘tch’ coming from Nina.

“Ah, no need to be jealous, Nina. You’re still in my top 3.” He pulls away from you to grin at Nina, who doesn’t respond. She’s awfully quiet. You don’t know why, but those words sent a pang to your heart. Top 3? Does he have affairs with all his co-workers? Just how many girls has he done this to?

He turns back to gave you once again, delicately trailing his fingers on your sides. “You think you can be a good girl for me?”

You bite your lip, looking up at him and it’s the way he’s staring at you with such adoration — like he’s the only person you can count on.. You just want to make him proud. So you nod.

“Yes.”

You can see the way his eyes light up, and you can’t help he smile to yourself. It finally feels like you’re being useful for once.

“If you ever need me to stop, call out ‘strawberries’”

“Okay.”

Dr. Matsukawa grabs the small vibrator once again, turning it on to the lowest setting, testing the power of it in his finger before lifting your skirt up and placing it against your panties.

“Hah!” you gasp out, your hands pull hard against the restraint, causing Dr. Matsukawa to grin.

“Subject 5 has been restricted for a approximately 10 minutes now. An increased blood flow towards her genital has been detected after realizing what was about to happen to her.” Nina speaks into the recorder.

Subject 5, really?

He moves the wand from your clit, down to your folds, as he watched you writhe underneath the restraints.

“Poor baby,” he pretends to pout, “I don’t think you’ll be able to fully enjoy yourself being l restrained like this. You need to comforting, isn’t that right?”

“Mmm! Mhm.”

He chuckled to himself, before helping you remove all of your clothing, discarding your panties as well as your bra. Your nipples began to harden as the cool air got in contact with them. As he was pulling down your panties, he kneeled down and inspected the slick covering your pussy.

“Subject 5 has increased vaginal discharge, signifying that her body is preparing itself for sexual intercourse.” Dr. Matsukawa calls out before licking a long stripe on your pussy. Your hips buck, causing Dr. Matsukawa to chuckle as he rubbed the side of your thigh.

You weren’t one to get embarrassed easily, but it’s not everyday a hot doctor almost 2x your age sees you naked.

Your head bolts up when you realize Dr. Matsukawa was doing the same, removing his lab coat as well as his right-fitted navy blue shirt, to reveal nibs insanely fit body.

“You’re drooling, Ms. L/N.”

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓��𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐚, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ- ʟᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴇᴋɴᴅ)

Tw: The Skypeople, dangerous situations, death of Tulkun, Angst, gunshot wounds, near death experience, week long coma, fluff. Dreaming

Author’s note: So, this is the final part to Fish Girl series, If you guys like, I’ll add alternative endings :) I am happy that you guys like the series, I never would of thought that would end turning a fic into a whole series :D

Masterlist

That morning had been raining, even the mood of the day felt dull and sad. You noticed how your mother and father had a worried look on there faces, you had also been feeling strange. You felt as if something had been wrong, you felt as if your heart has been stabbed, it just didn’t feel right. You were still were to stick with your mother, her along with your father, Jake, Neytiri and a small party of other Metkayina, had got onto their Skimswims and swam into the ocean. You were riding with your mother, you were on her back, you had your arms wrapped around her torso. 

As the group swam, underwater, the pain got bigger and bigger, you had become anxious and nervous. Then you all submerged from underwater, the skimswims swam slower, until you all spotted something floating in the water. The closer you got, the more you saw, it was the Tulkun, they were dead. You and Your mother got closer to one, then your mother got off the Skimswin and swan towards the corpse, it was Rao. She was killed, turning over, their floated her calf next to her, dead as well.

This made you panic. You looked around, trying to see if you could Siry, hoping that she didn’t suffer the same fate as her mother and brother. But you stopped when you saw her, her body. You got off the skimswim, ignoring your father call out your name. You swam towards her and sat on her fin, you looked in her eyes, trying to find any kind of life source, but no, they were pale, pale just like her mother’s. 

“No, no, no,” you said now in the verge of tears. “Siry...” you hugged her corpse. “Siry!” you screamed in devastation just like your mother. “Your spirit sister has been murdered like her mother. You continued to hug her, and cry of pain. This was the pain, the pain you were feeling the whole time. You continued to cry, hoping that she would wake up. This must be nightmare, a horrible nightmare. You cried and screamed “This isn’t fair! They didn’t deserve this!” you screamed louder, it hurt, seeing the dead body of your spirit sister. 

Your father swam over to you and tried to take you into his arms. “No, I want to stay with her” you said between sobs, not letting go of Siry. It hurt him seeing you upset, specially after he had just witnessed his mate also cry and scream for the loss of her spirit sister. Tonowari insisted “y/n please, she is now with Eywa” he said as a form of comfort. After a few minutes, you finally let go, you gave Siry one finally kiss under her eyes. You swan back to your mother’s skimswim, she had pulled you into a hug, you cried onto her chest.

Ronal held you close to her on your way back. You had been sitting on the front facing her. Hugging her the whole time, feeling empty. You both had lost your spirit sister in the same day, it hurt so badly. Siry was the whole reason you got your tattoo, she had the same tattoo kind of tattoo as you on her snout. It hurt knowing that you will never see her again. The only being you had been able to have a bond with was gone, all done by the Skypeople.

When you all arrived in the main marui were meetings happened, a bunch of na’vi had been there, angry due to the lose of their brothers and sisters. You stayed behind your mother, who was enraged and in pain due to the lose of Rao. She wanted to send the Sullys away, due to the pain and suffering they had brought here. There was shouting and na’vi getting railed up in protecting there brothers and sisters. You looked around tying to find Neteyam, you did. He had a worried look on his face, then he saw you. He noticed your red eyes and the tears on your face. All you wanted to do is run up to him and hug him. 

After Jake had told the clan to warn the Tulkun, everyone went their seperate ways, some to warn their brother and sisters, others home. You had left with your mother and father. Still upset for what happened to Siry, you didn’t really say anything, you were still in shock for what you saw, your spirit sister’s body will forever be engraved in your mind. 

For the rest of the time, you with your parents, they were doing their own thing while you were making a top just cause, you had nothing really to do, since the day had been a rollercoaster of emotions. You were thinking of both Neteyam, you wondered what he was up too, since that whole commotion had happened. All of a sudden you and your parents heard Jake. “The Kids are under attack!” he shouted, both Ronal and Tonowari got up fast, your mother getting her darts and spear, but was stopped by her father placing his hand on her stomach. “Its best if you stay” he said as Ronal spoke. “No, I ride” she moved passed him and jumped into the water while Tonowari got his spear. 

You got up fast and went to get your own, but as soon as you were about to jump into the water, your father grabbed your arm softly. “No, you are staying” he said as you looked up at him. “But papa, I have to fight, I am a warrior” you said as he turned you to look at him, kneeling down to your height. “I said no, you have to stay” he said as you insisted. “Father, I have to fight!” you begged as he shook his head. “No, and that is final” he said as he took his spear, jumping into the water.

You watched as him and your water swam away with their Skimswims. You didn’t want to stay behind and do nothing. So you placed your spear down and left the marui and went in search for Neeteyam. You ran to his Marui and found him there. “Neteyam!” you shouted getting his attention. “Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked as he was getting his knife along with his ilu’s settle. “Tsireya, Tuk and Lo’ak are in danger!” you said, making him panic. “I’ll go get them!” he said as you followed. “I am coming with you.” You said making him turn to you. “No, it is to dangerous” he said putting the settle on his ilu. “I don’t care, I am going, they have my sister!” you said making Neteyam walk over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, looking down at you.

“Y/n, you have to stay, it is to dangerous for you. I can’t lose you” he said worriedly. “Neteyam please, my sister and your siblings are in danger, I already lost my spirit sister, I will loose you too, where ever you go, I’ll go with you” you said with tears in your eyes. Neteyam felt bad, he didn’t want to risk loosing you but he knew you were strong, he knew you had a strong heart. He leaned down and kissed you, in which you responded. The kiss was deep and intimate, this kiss felt as if it was your last kiss before anything happens. 

“Lets go” He said getting onto his ilu, you followed behind, sitting behind his back riding away. You were underwater, swimming towards the ship were your siblings had been. You gripped tightly onto Neteyam’s torso and wrapped your legs around his torso, the ilu jumped out of the water towards the ship, Neteyam let go of the ilu and held onto you tightly as he landed in the ship. You let go of him once he was on the ship. “Neteyam!” Tuk yelled, making Tsireya and Lo’ak turn also seeing you behind. “Y/n?!” Tsireya shouted as Neetyam gave you a knife for you to release your sister.

You went over and cut off the cuff off Tsireya’s arm off the railing. “Are you okay?” you asked as she nodded getting up. “Take Tuk to safety” you said as Tuk went over to Tsireya. “What about you?” she asked worriedly “I’ll be fine just go, go!” you said Tsireya nodded and took Tuk towards the ocean. You went over to Lo’ak and Neteyam, you were about to leave with them but then Lo’ak went the other way. “Bro! Lets go!” Neteyam said going after Lo’ak in which you followed. “No, we need to save Spider! He is our brother” he said picking up a gun. At first Neteyam hesitated, he looked at you then at Lo’ak. “Fine, lets go” he said as he took your hand into his. “Stay close to me” he said as you nodded.

You, Neteyam and Lo’ak were sneaking around, looking some someone named Spider, you had never scene him, was he another na’vi like them? You weren’t sure. Then you spotted a boy, a human boy at that. He had on a brown loincloth, had blue pain on his body and he was wearing a face mask of some kind. Once he had joined the three of you, it was time to leave. You all ran into some trouble, leaving was a bit more riskier. Gun shoots were coming towards the direction you were all hiding. Neteyam took the gun from his brother. “Go!” he shouted as he also began to shoot back, both Spider and Lo’ak jumped into the water. You stayed with Neteyam, once was done shooting, he dropped the gun and took you hand. Both jumping into the water, last thing you heard as gun shoots being fired again and a sharp pain on your shoulder blade.

While Lo’ak and Spider had celebrated, Neteyam was looking for you, you had not went up into the surface like the rest. You were struggling to stay up due to the pain on your chest. You manage to swim up into the surface “I’ve been hit” you groaned, struggling to stay up while you had your hand on the wound. This made Neteyam’s eyes grow wide in shock. He saw the water turning a crimson color around you. “Oh no!” Neteyam shouted as he got a hold of you” then he called his Ilu.

He hopped on as he had you on his front. “Please stay with me y/n, don’t close your eyes” he begged as he got his Ilu to swim towards a rock. Tsireya spotted you all and swam over, when she saw your once pale colored top now red, she began to panic. Once at the rock, Neteyam carefully moved you towards it. “Watch her head!” He said at Lo’ak who was also helped moved you. You were now laying on the cold rock, in pain. You had never felt any kind of pain before. Lo’ak had called for Jake, once the older na’vi got there, he had a face of shock. Then he turned you on your side, checking your back, thank eywa you were okay, no blood on you back, but you still needed imitate medical attention.

“Y/n stay awake, don’t close your eyes” Jake said as Neteyam had began to put pressure on the wound. It hurt so bad. “Neteyam...” you whimpered in pain, tears flooding your eyes. “It’s okay, I am here” he said looking down at you, hating to see you in such pain. “We need to take her back to the village, Norm and Max are still there.” Jake said as Tsireya then called for her ilu. “Neteyam, take her, now!” Jake ordered him. “What about Tuk and Kiri?” he said as tears were now flooding his eyes. “We will get them, just go!” he said. Neteyam then called for his ilu, getting on it with you in his arms, holding you close to him. “It’s okay y/n, its okay, we’ll get you help” Neteyam said as his along with Tsireya’s ilu took off.

The whole ride, Neteyam had been talking to you, trying to keep you from falling asleep. His arm was now covered in  blood due to the wound. Once they arrived at the village, Neteyam took you to his Marui while Tsireya went to get Norm and Max. They had got there fast, Neteyam was still putting pressure on your wound. “We got it from here” Norm said as him and Max began to work. You looked over seeing Neteyam outside the marui with a worried face. “Neteyam..” you mumbled as you then felt something being put on your mouth and nose. “It’s okay, we’ll be putting you to sleep now” Norm said calmly, feeling your eyes heavying. Now asleep.

As Norm and Max began to apporate on you, Neteyam was outside waiting, his hands still covered in blood. Then he saw Tonowari, Ronal, and Tsireya approach. Ronal had a look of worry and rage. “Were is my child?!” she demanded, towards Neteyam, then she turned over and saw both scientists working on your wound. “Y/n was shot” he said, tears in his eyes. Tonowari looked down and saw his hands covered in your blood. Ronal had a face of horror, seeing that you had been hurt, who knows if you’ll survie this. Tsireya went over and hugged her, she was also scared that you may not live.

After a while, Norm and Max were done. You were asleep, with a bandage around your wound and chest. The top had to be removed in order for them to work properly. Norm went over to the na’v waiting outside. “How is she?” Tonowari asked “she’s okay, she lost a lot of blood but she made it. But she fell into a deep sleep due to the injury” he said as Ronal sighed in relief, knowing you were okay, she was glad that her prayers to Eywa had worked. “Could she be move to our Marui?” Tonowari asked as Norm nodded. “Yeah, but we have to be carefull though.”

You had been moved back to your home. You were laid on your matt by your father, he along with your mother were with you as you slept. You looked so peaceful, as if you had stayed like you were instructed to. That night your whole family, slept in yours and Tsireya’s room, hopping that you would wake up and they were there to witness it. Ronal had been with you most of the days, talking to you as you, making sure you were staying hydrated, clean and changing your bandages. It hurt her seeing you in that state.

Your father would also come in and tell you a story like when you were little, he wanted you to wake up, he felt as if it was his fault in some way. Maybe if he would of asked someone to watch you while he along with Ronal and some other Metkayina protected the clan. Your brother and sister also had tried to get you to wake, Ao’nung would talk to you, telling you about the times when you guys would fight over the little things as well as telling you funny stories. Tsireya would sing to you, she felt that in your sleep, you must have lost your way back home, and the song you knew so well will help you guide you back.

Neteyam would come and see you a lot, he’d lay next to you, hoping that his warmth would wake you up. Sometimes he’d go to sleep, so that he could dream and in those dreams he would find you, but it didn’t work. He’d bring you flowers and place them on your hair, just like when he’d see you do when you recieved them. He would also kiss your eyelids when he had to leave, he would always whisper that he’d be back for you. A whole week has passed, and you had not woken up. At first Ronal did not allow Neteyam to be near you, but she began too see how much he loves you. She saw that he really cared about you in a way a mate cares about his other half. Ronal had now accepted him, once you wake up, she will allow your relationship.

You had woken up, but it was at home, it was underwater. You looked around, trying to find someone but no, the ocean was empty, except for the sea life. You began to swim around, trying to find someone. You continued to swim until, you saw something in the distance. You swam closer to get a better look, then you saw her. Y/m/n there but she wasn’t alone, it seemed as if she was with a tulkun... Siry. Once you got closer, y/m/n was sitting on the Siry’s fin, she was wearing what it seemed to be a white botton shirt and black pants, it looked as if she was communicating with the Tulkun. “Mom?” you said, you were confused on how you were able to speak under water. The woman turned over and smiled at you. “My child, I finally meet you” she said, getting off Siry’s fin and swimming over to you. “My precious y/n” she said. You then hugged her tightly, as she had also held you tightly. You felt tears coming out of your eyes as she held you. 

“Its okay, don’t cry” she said stroking your hair that was down. You looked up at her. She looked just like the picture, but real. “My child, you’re time has not come, you must go back” she said, as you looked at her, not believing she was in front of you. “It’s not?” you asked as she shook her head. “No, you still have so much to live for, your family, friends, and Neteyam” she said, making your eyes grow wide. “How do you know about Neteyam?” you asked. She smiled and turned over to Siry. “She told me” you smiled at Siry who the swam over to you both. You were happy to see her.

You the hugged her, she let out a noise. “I am glad you’re okay” you said to her, then turning to your mother. “My child, you must go back” y/m/n said. As you looked at her “but what about you?” you asked as she smiled. “Don’t worry about me, I am with Siry” she said placing her hands on both sides of your face, getting another good look at you. “I am glad I got to see you” she said smiling happily at you. You also smiled “So am I” you said feeling the warmth on her hands on your face. “Before you go, just remember” she said, as you payed attention. “We are always with you” she said, as Siry let out another noise in agreement. You smiled at her words, then she leaned down kissing your forehead, then everything went white and you began to hear singing. 

You began to open your eyes, you looked around seeing that you were in your room. Tsireya was there, singing the song you loved so much “Tsireya?” you said as she then looked at you, seeing that you were awake. “Y/n! Mother, Father! Y/n is awake!” she shouted loudly for them to hear. Then Ronal, Tonowari and Ao’nung came in “My baby!” Ronal said as she went over to you and held you close to her. Tonowari following behind. Ao’nung watched as he felt tears come from his eyes. “I am so glad you have waken” your father said as he stroked your hair. “It wasn’t my time yet” you said smiling happy to see your family. Ao’nung then came over, sniffling  “don’t scare us like that again” he said in tears. You only smiled at him, glad to see your little brother. 

Later that day, Neteyam came after he had heard from your brother you had woken up. Your parents had been with you, telling you what how things had been lonely without you, then you spotted Neteyam walk in the room. Your parents looked over and got up “we’ll let you both talk” your mother said as her and Tonowari left the room. Neteyam walked over to you and hugged you close to him like that one day when you hadn’t seen each other in days. You hugged him back, happy to see him. “I am so glad to see you Neteyam” you said as he continued to hug you. “I’m so glad you’re awake y/n” he said, as he was careful not trying to hurt you due to your wound.

You stayed like this for a while, just in each other’s arms in silence, with your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat which you loved so much. Neteyam did not want to let go of you, afraid that you will vanish. Then he pulled away to get a good look of your small face. Tears still in his eyes. “I see you y/n” he said as you felt his tear hit your cheek. You smiled at him “I see you Neteyam” you said as you placed your hand on his warm cheek that was covered in tears. Then he leaned down and kissed your lips softly, this kiss was like you first ever kiss you both shared on the sunset. You did not break away from the kiss, you leaned closer deepening the kiss. Finally you had pulled away to catch your breath, staring into his gold eyes while he stared into yours. “I love you Ma y/n” he whispered for you to only hear. You smiled at him, also whispering. “I love you too, Ma Neteyam.”

Taglist: @byunpum, @moony-artemis, @aonungs-tsahik, @rennyramen , @somewereinthegalaxi , @em-asian , @fanboyluvr, @mashiromochi, @eternallyvenus , @teenagemuffinlampcalzone, @ssophiebirkas, @fanficblogs, @httpsplanetmarsdotcom, @laylasbunbunny, @yeosxxx, @lola-bunn1, @naynay2808, @inutheangel, @bxnnywriting, @mirikusashes, @ifevilwhyhot, @estellerogue​, @maria-1287, @howdidthishappenomg, @weepingwitchofthewest

[jackhues]

(mockingbird au!) stranded - platonic!quinn hughes

request: i have a request for the au! i loved the fic btw it was amazing. maybe you could do something where the reader gets stranded cause her car breaks down and jacks out of town for a game so she calls quinn to help?

requested by: anon : )

notes: this was so cute, i really like how it turned out! continue sending in requests for the au! check out the request rules below! thanks for requesting <3

mockingbird! au request rules!

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @zegras2crosby , @hockeyboysarehot , @ratkingbunting , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley @huggyhugh , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold <3

join my taglist!

gif not mine!

“shit, shit, shit,” you muttered to yourself, moving to the side of the road as you felt your car slow down.

it was the offseason in the nhl, and you were spending it in michigan. you’d passed a huge library a few days ago and unable to get it out of your head, you finally paid a visit. it was absolutely incredible, just you and thousands of other books. but of course, something had to ruin what would otherwise be a perfect day.

you’d barely reached the shoulder of the road when the engine sputtered, finally giving out. 

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered.

sure, your car was a little old, and jack had been on your case to get a new one for nearly a year, but you were too attached. and besides the occasional break down, it worked completely fine. 

your first thought was to call jack and ask him to pick you up, before remembering that he was out of town in some hockey tournament.

your heartbeat sped up at the thought of being all alone.

luke had gone with him, but quinn was still at the lake house, probably enjoying his time without humans around.

you dialled quinn’s number, breathing a sigh of relief when he picked up on the second ring. at least you wouldn’t have to hitchhike, or walk home.

“hey,” he answered. “what’s up?”

“hi, q,” you smiled sheepishly. “so, you know my ugly, old car that everyone keeps telling me to replace, but i won’t because i’m too attached to the metal junk box?”

“i remember that, yes,” he responded, laughing a little. “mainly because i’m one of the people who defend your decision to keep it.”

“yeah, you shouldn’t have,” you made a face.

“what happened?”

“it broke down on the way back,” you muttered. “and i know, i’ll get a new car eventually, i promise. i just-”

“wait, are you okay?” there was some shuffling from quinn’s end of the line. was he just getting out of bed?

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine,” you answered, a little hesitantly.

“you sure?” he asked. “you don’t sound fine. you’re not hurt, are you? where are you? i’ll come pick you up.”

you froze for a second. it was weird hearing someone sound so concerned for your safety. growing up, there wasn’t any concern for your safety or whereabouts, as long as you were in the house by curfew. even if you weren’t, the only concern was how horrible of a child you were.

“y/n? you with me?” quinn repeated, his voice more anxious than before.

“yeah, yeah, i’m here,” you confirmed, taking a deep breath to control your emotions. “sorry, i blanked out for a second.”

“don’t worry, kid,” he reassured you. “just send me your location, and stay on the line with me. i’m coming to get you.”

nearly half an hour later - the time being filled with quinn’s horrible  jokes and the two of you laughing uncontrollably at them - quinn arrived at your location. you climbed out of your car, taking all of your belongings with you.

quinn got out of his car, helping you place everything in his car.

“you’re okay, right?” he asked again once the two of you got on the road.

you nodded, trying for a smile. “i’m just upset about my car, it meant a lot. but i’m fine.”

“it was your first car, right?” quinn asked.

“yup,” you confirmed. “it was a shit car, even when i first bought it, but i got it for a good price. and i didn’t know anything about cars back then, so i thought it was a beauty.”

quinn laughed, “oh wow, make sure you take me the next time you get a car. we don’t want you ending up with another ‘beauty’.”

“shut up,” you swatted him, rolling your eyes. “i was gonna take you, but now i’m only taking jack and luke. you’re mean.”

“jack’s gonna make you buy a pickup truck or range rover, you know that,” quinn commented. “and luke’s gonna say no to everything because he’s too tall for them. why else do you think he likes the scooter so much?”

you laughed, clutching your stomach, “stop, oh my god. you are mean… but luke was kinda asking for it, going around everywhere on that scooter.”

“it was so ugly.”

you laughed again, shaking your head as you wiped tears from your eyes. “thanks for picking me up, quinn. when i remembered jack was out of town, i got a bit scared. i thought i was all alone.”

quinn was silent for a second, absorbing what you’d just revealed to him.

he knew a bit about your relationship with your parents, but he hadn’t realized how much it affected you. the fact that you didn’t count on anyone except jack broke his heart a little. no one should feel alone. ever.

“thanks for calling me,” he told you. “you’re not alone anymore, y/n. you’ve got me, you’ve got all of us. we’re family now. whether you’re stranded because your trash car broke down-”

“-hey!”

“-or something else entirely,” he continued, “you can count on me. i’m gonna come get you. i promise.”

you smiled a little, a small part of you wishing you’d met jack sooner. then you’d have met his entire family sooner, and maybe you wouldn’t have had to go through such a shit childhood. maybe you wouldn’t be so scared of being alone.

nonetheless, you were just grateful you found jack, and that his family accepted you wholeheartedly. it was more than you’d hoped for.

“thanks,” you told him.

“you don’t have to thank me,” quinn smiled at you. “we’re family.”

you grinned back, “well, in that case, i’m happy you came. i know you don’t like interacting with humans very much.”

he laughed, “i’ll make an exception for you.”

[strawhbrrries]

Babys Breath, vi

pairing: bob floyd x seresin!florist!reader

summary: Bob stumbles into the nearest florist to the funeral he’s attending and, unknowingly, charms Jake Seresin’s sweet younger sister with all the anxious charm he possesses.

warnings: everyone calls reader “sunshine”, fluff!!!, protective older brother jake??, horrible descriptions of the navy, warnings will differ depending on chapter, no use of y/n or description of reader, not proofread 

word count: 836 words

authors note: ....drama!!! as always, please enjoy! mwah!

tag list: @myownworstenemyyy @kloofspeaks @bcon24 @chaosofmanyfandoms @strangerparks @kmc1989 @angelbabyange @ephemeralninon

find the masterlist here!

read the previous part here!

Your mouth dropped at the sight of Jake leaning against your car, squeezing Bob’s hand like your life depended on it. Jake looked like he was ready to tear the two of you into shreds and Bob looked like he was ready to defend you at all costs.

“You know I came out here to apologize for being an asshole. For not believing you. And here you are, doing exactly what you fucking said you weren’t doing.” Jake laughed, using all the self control he had to not lash out. 

“Actually, she only said she wasn’t texting me.” Bob interjected, holding onto  your hand just as tight to let you know he was there.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Bob.” 

“Don’t speak to me like that, I’ve done nothing in this situation.” Bob stood up for himself, squeezing his free hand into a fist. Seeing firsthand how Jake was speaking to you made him increasingly more mad, the more words that came out of his mouth the more Bob just wanted to resort to violence.

“Jake, let's speak about this at home.” You felt small, he had never been this mad at you before and the last thing you wanted to do was make it worse. Maybe, just maybe, if you removed Bob from the situation you could talk it out and fix it all.

“No, Sunny. We’re having this conversation here, in front of your little boyfriend.” Jake motioned towards Bob, his face turning a bright red.

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? Because I'm not, Jake. Bob isn’t like the other guys you try to protect me from.” You rationalized, trying not to break into tears over the situation. 

“Have you told him?” Jake asks, the calmest he’s been all night.

“No, leave it alone.” You knew what he was referring to, the situation that’s caused Jake to be so overbearing. You hadn’t told anyone, nobody needed to know. 

“Tell him.” 

“Jake, stop. This isn’t the time or place for this.” If you had felt small before you felt even smaller now. Your breath quickening, palms sweaty and mind racing. It was too much and he knew it.

“I’ll do it. So basically, Bob-“

Before Jake could continue his sentence, the free hand that Bob had balled into a fist connected with his cheek, he scrunched his face as he hadn’t realized it hurt to punch someone. Jake brought his hand to his cheek, rubbing it softly and grunting in pain. 

“She said no, what is it with you and being such an asshole to fucking everbody? Jesus Christ, Hangman.” Bob let go of your hand and walked closer to Jake, possessed by some sort of confidence he’d never had before. He dealt with the asshole attitude enough of work, eventually somebody had to take it down a notch or two. “Don’t fucking speak to her again unless you’re apologizing.”

You stood there awkwardly, watching your brother being threatened. In another world maybe you would’ve interrupted and talked it out, stepped in between the two of them to avoid an actual fight. But right now, you felt like he deserved this. No amount of brotherly love excused the way he’d spoken to you, or Bob. If anything, you wish Bob had landed more than one punch. You’d whispered something about wanting to go home, your words didn’t feel like yours. Everything was still spiraling and it was overwhelming.

“My place or yours?” Bob whispered, turning back to you and wiping away a tear you didn’t even know had fallen. “Come on.”

You ended up at your place, setting your things on the coffee table in the living room and sitting on the couch. You rubbed your hands up and down your jeans, trying to self regulate just a little bit. Bob was moving around the house behind you, it was all just a blur and you were more focused on yourself. A glass of water was placed on the table in front of you, the couch dipping as he sat down next to you. He smoothed down your hair, placing a small kiss on your temple.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against the side of your head.

“For what?” You asked, taking the glass of water and just holding it in your hand. Contemplating if you wanted a drink or not before taking a sip.

“Him, my punching, me. All of it.” He responded, moving his hand from your hair and rubbing your back.

“It’s not your fault, Bobby. I did it, I should’ve known it was going to blow up sooner or later.” You leaned against him, placing the glass back on the coffee table.

The front door opened, you didn’t need to look to know it was Jake. He walked right past the two of you and into his room, closing the door behind him without uttering a single word. He didn’t apologize to anyone if he thought he was right, and he thought he was right. 

[floofanflurr]

My contribution to let Papyrus say fuck day!

Honestly, it came at the perfect time, because in my main series Heart on the Table, Papyrus very much deserves to say fuck right now. ...And maybe a bit of arson.

This is a spin off from chapter 12 of Heart on the Table (it's not canon!)

TWs in the tags.

Papyrus paced his room. Back. And forth. Back. And forth.

Across the carpet. To his bed. To the desk. Back again. 

He was, maybe, perhaps, just possibly, a little anxious. Frisk was still sick after all. They were doing better, but they were still sick. And if they didn’t get better soon, then their HP cap might fall.

And if it fell too much… They might fall down.

Papyrus bit down those thoughts. Frisk would be fine! They would be completely fine.

Papyrus’s phone rang, and he looked down at it. …Undyne. He’d been avoiding her.

His hand shook at the sight of her name, but he ignored that and picked up the phone.

“Hey Papyrus! It’s been AGES! Is… Is Sans still sick?”

She looked worried, but only in that ‘I’m worried, but I’m also going to make sure I look enraged and threatening at the same time, because worry is for LOSERS’ way. Normally Papyrus would reassure her. …Normally, Papyrus wouldn’t have lied to her about that in the first place.

His smile was tight on his face as he chirped out a response.

“HE IS! HE’LL BE OKAY, BUT IT’S BEST TO CONTINUE TO STAY AWAY IN THE MEANTIME! NOW, I HAVE TO GO TAKE CARE OF HIM! I’LL TALK TO YOU LATER!”

“Papyrus, wa–”

Papyrus clicked the phone shut. 

And then he took a deep breath. In. And out.

He stared at his hands. No blood. He reached for his bond with Frisk. They were alive. He could feel them. Undyne hadn’t killed them.

…This time.

He paced his room again. And then he decided he needed to do something. Anything to get the restless energy out. (The energy that was telling him to go find Undyne. To hurt her.)

He walked over to his desk and clicked onto his computer. He could–update his followers! (His -2 followers.) Or he could see what Dr. Alphys had posted! Her posts were always very engaging.

And then his eye caught sight of the date in the corner of the screen.

…June 16th.

…

Hm. Yes. That was. A thing.

Papyrus clicked his computer back off. And then he stood up from his desk and pushed the chair in. All of his earlier shaking was gone as he walked calmly to his bedroom door.

His strides covered the distance between his room and Sans’s in no time at all, and soon he pushed open the partially open door to see Sans sitting on his mattress next to Frisk. Sans was reading through one of the human health textbooks that he had found, and was petting Frisk’s hair as they dozed next to him. He looked up when he heard Papyrus enter.

“SANS! I’M GOING OUT FOR A LITTLE BIT!”

Papyrus was very calm right now. And the smile on his face completely reflected that. (Unhinged glee was a normal expression, right?)

Sans looked at him long and hard. And then he sighed with a smile on his face.

“...i swear, you never forget this day, do you?”

No. No, Papyrus was going to take full advantage of this. It was a sign. He wasn’t even going to dignify Sans’s horrible pun with a reaction.

“OF COURSE NOT! CALL ME IF YOU NEED ANYTHING. I MEAN IT, SANS! I WANT TO KNOW IF ANYTHING HAPPENS WITH FRISK.”

Sans chuckled and then made a shooing motion with the hand that held the book.

“got it, got it. you go have fun.”

The amount of fun he was going to have! Was probably not very much! (...No. That was a lie. Papyrus was going to enjoy this, much more than he should.)

“I WILL!”

Papyrus gave another glance at Frisk sleeping next to Sans, so tiny and frail. He could see the raised flesh of their scar on their shoulder where their nightshirt began to slip down. And then any hesitation Papyrus had left in him flew away.

Undyne killed them.

…What was a simple house in exchange?

Papyrus walked back downstairs. He made his way across the living room, and stopped to snag a lighter from a drawer in the kitchen.

Snow swirled past Papyrus as he shouldered his way outside and made his way through town. He waved cheerfully at all of the monsters like he usually did, and some of them even waved back! He made sure to chirp out thanks and greetings whenever he saw any of the monsters that had sent care packages or well wishes for Frisk while they were sick.

And then Papyrus made his way to Waterfall. It wasn’t very long before he got to Undyne’s house, either.

She wasn’t home yet. She would still be out patrolling for at least a little bit longer. And Papyrus was going to take full advantage of that.

He walked in the front door.

Papyrus. Was. Completely and totally fine! He was so okay. He wasn’t mad at all. (Frisk, in his arms as they bled out. Frisk, with bright blue energy spears that Papyrus was so familiar with from sparring, stabbed through their little body. Frisk dying.)

Papyrus’s smile was tense. His skull rang as he walked over to the wall. And then he calmly brought the lighter up and flicked it on.

The flames were mesmerizing as he stared at them. And then he tilted the lighter back, and after a few seconds and some charred patches, the wallpaper lit up too.

It took a few tries, and the blaze didn’t start off very fast, but Papyrus was persistent. And flames wouldn’t hurt him either. He took the chance to walk to the other side of the room and did the same to the wallpaper on that side. And then he walked to the stove and cracked it all the way on to the highest heat and tossed a few of Undyne’s towels on top and watched as they caught on fire. 

Next he walked over to her carpet and flicked the lighter onto that too, watching as the flames grew in size as they crept along the floor and billowed out with black, acrid smoke.

He stood there for a long moment, in the middle of Undyne’s kitchen. He stood there as flames whipped around him and spread across everything until the bitter smoke made him lightheaded and he was sure his bones radiated heat. (Like Frisk’s skin as fever burned through them. Undyne’s fault.)

The smoke wouldn’t hurt him. Neither would the fire. He had no intention of hurting himself, and so the only harm that would come from standing here was severe discomfort. He thought maybe he would watch the fire for a bit longer. (Watch as it burned through her items. What was a little property destruction between friends? It was so much nicer than what she had done.)

But then there was a screech outside.

“WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE?!”

There was some quiet murmuring that Papyrus couldn’t hear over the crackle of the flames. Probably the training dummy. It was easy to hear Undyne though.

“Papyrus? What do you mean, Papyrus? He’s taking care of Sans right now!”

Papyrus decided that was his cue and he spun around to face the door. He walked out, flames billowing behind him and he calmly patted down some of the smoldering patches on his clothes. He looked up to see Undyne gaping at him, and he smiled brightly. (His hands were shaking again.)

“UNDYNE! WHAT A SURPRISE TO SEE YOU! OR! WELL! MAYBE NOT SINCE THIS IS YOUR HOUSE.”

She looked at him in shock for another long moment before a wide grin spread across her face. Undyne never did care much for property did she?

“Papyrus! What the heck are you doing?! Did you get started on our super private, one-on-one training lessons? WITHOUT ME?”

This wouldn’t do. Clearly the message wasn’t getting across. That was okay, though, Papyrus knew just what to say. It was June 16th, after all.

He walked up to Undyne and stopped just in front of her. He stopped before he got closer. (Before he hurt her for real. Despite how much he wanted to hurt her… She was his best friend.)

“NOT QUITE! BUT UNDYNE?”

She quirked a brow at him. “Yeah?”

Papyrus clenched his hands at his sides and he gritted his teeth together. Undyne’s expression changed as she seemed to catch on that there was something wrong.

“YOU FUCKED UP.”

She sputtered, confusion clear on her face as she stared at him. “What the hell do you mean?”

Papyrus squeezed his sockets shut. And then he opened them and leaned forward, his magic thrashing around him. Undyne took a small step back.

“I MEAN, UNDYNE, THAT YOU KILLED MY LITTLE SIBLING! THE HUMAN. IS. EIGHT! AND YOU KILLED THEM! YOU ARE VERY, VERY LUCKY THAT THEY DIDN’T STAY DEAD! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH THEM AGAIN!”

Papyrus was shaking from how loud he had been shouting. So he took a deep breath in and tried to compose himself. It didn’t work very well, and now Undyne had an odd look on her face. Papyrus could tell she was trying to process what he just said.

He didn’t wait for her though.

“SO UNDYNE? …FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU, AND FUCK OFF, AND STAY AWAY FROM MY FUCKING KID.”

He spun on his heel and walked off before he did something he would regret, Undyne’s sputtering form and burning house quickly shrinking in the distance.

Heart on the Table:

[usedpidemo]

Delete this.vol fifteen.

“Hyewon, I-I…”

“I know.”

Your skin has never turned pale right before Hyewon’s eyes, yet at this moment you sense the warmth and color in your flesh gradually fade away as she catches you by surprise, a chill of horrible fright taking its place.

If not for the incredibly awkward predicament you’re in, you’d make a joke about whose skin is whiter—and her cum coated body isn’t far off from yours. She stands there, seed dripping down her ever so perfect body like a ghost. Her presence feels haunting, especially when she eyes you with the sharpest glare you’ve ever received. You’ve never been in a more uncomfortable position as she stares at you intently from the middle of both dressing rooms. Behind her is the entrance and exit door, nowhere close to your reach, where her troupe of thick beefcakes wait. 

“Hyem, please, let’s not do this right now,” you desperately plead, placing a hand close to your chest as your heart thumps rapidly, beating faster with each passing second. 

She tilts her head, watchfully eyeing you like a hawk as you tremble in place, afraid that one wrong move or reaction will bring forth your demise. The longer this stalemate continues, the more anxious you grow. Hyewon doesn’t need to move an inch closer to put you in place. 

“You’re right. I don’t wanna do this right now,” she says, breaking the tense silence. Hyewon walks over daintily around your position as you find your feet involuntarily moving parallel to hers. Both of your eyes remain locked at each other until you find yourself where she stood a few minutes ago.

Just as you start to back away, she speaks, a little more stern this time. “Don’t even think about leaving me now.”

Your eyes widen. A throaty gulp precedes a deep breath that slowly chokes you. Hyewon has had her fair share of upset moments, but this is different. Her stern, demanding voice rattles you to your very core, as if you committed an unspeakable act—which in her eyes, you certainly have. It’s enough to paralyze you where you stand, ready to submit to whatever command she wants as penance for your sins.

“Take a seat over there.” Hyewon points her finger at an identical sofa in her dressing room, one similar to what was used for her lewd photoshoot. Wasting no time, you comply, trembling uncomfortably as you waddle to the designated couch, then setting yourself down. Even as she turns around, her intimidating gaze no longer targeting you, you remain uneasy as you anxiously anticipate her next action.

She walks over to another door. A waterfall of cum continues to stream down her body; it’s so unnerving seeing a familiar sight, especially with what you’ve seen in the last hour. “I’ll be out in a few. Wait for me.”

After turning the knob, she slides between rooms, but not without another direct shot to your heart. 

“Piece of shit.”

—————

Ten minutes later, Hyewon reemerges from the bathroom, fully cleansed of all the filth flowing down her frame, but not the pleasure she feels from it. She walks over to a wardrobe while the white robe draped around her loosens. The garment slips down to reveal a hint of still wet shoulders and glistening skin under the lights. From the closet she picks out a matching colored blouse. Despite her gaze not being on you, you watch her closely, uncertain of how you feel as she puts the new clothes on: whether it’s just out of fear or of love for her. 

Properly dressed and pampered with self-applied makeup, she finally makes her way toward you, without sparing even a tiny glance. When she glides over the couch and sits on the opposite end from your side, she moves with a dash of firm grace, like a prim, pure princess. There’s layers to her behavior, that you know. How many and how deep it goes is a whole other story, perhaps multiple stories.

Crossing her arms together and her right leg on top of her left, letting it bounce on her other knee, she remains committed to her cold act, feigning ignorance to your presence. As much as you want to ask her why, you don’t try in the slightest to utter even a single word or an audible breath, lest you’re met in response with a sharp curse or snarl. 

You silently wait for Hyewon to do something, anything. As much as you want her to respond favorably, it’s clear she wants to do things her way. Hate how she goes about it, but your heart tells you not to mess up more than you already have. Despite how close you are seated next to each other on the couch, there’s a vast rift between you both. 

Your fingers try to inch their way slowly towards her side, hoping her heart opens up, even just a little. A slight twitch of her hand makes you withdraw yours back. She doesn’t even come close to slapping it nor does she intend to, but even the smallest move she makes puts you on edge. Hyewon is unpredictable as she’s ever been, but for some reason she feels extra erratic than she usually is.

The stalemate between you stretches longer than you hoped. An occasional glance is shared here and there as deafening silence occupies the room. Whenever she tilts her gaze towards you, you look away. Her lips remain firm and stiff, scowling as if your very presence upsets her. 

As urgent as the situation demands, you can’t. There’s no getting out of this without letting her have her way with you.

Slide your hands between your shirt’s pocket and open your phone. 10 minutes have gone by since she entered that shower. So, not much time has passed, though uncomfortably waiting for her feels like an eternity. Her wandering eyes catch you right as you check the time, and she opens her mouth to let loose another unsavory remark.

“Looking to leave already? I should have expected this, especially from you.”

Instinctively, you retreat your hand from your shirt. “Hyem, it’s not like that.” 

She turns her head away right as you answer back, unwilling to listen to you. This time, your patience has run dry. If you needed to scream it out for her to understand, you absolutely will. 

“Hyem.” You slither closer to her side of the couch, but she extends her arm out to push you halfway. Her actions speak louder than words, but your determination is stronger.

Your tone gradually becomes slightly sharper with every call of her name. She refuses to budge, acting indifferently as you frustratingly try to reach out to her. It doesn’t matter that there are people outside that dressing room. You need her right now, no matter who else gets involved. 

“Hyem!” One more shout of her name, yet the same end result. She draws her hand back, but her face remains hidden away from you. At this point, you hop off the sofa and clench your hands into fists like a frustrated child who didn’t get what they wanted. Whether or not she knows or not, you are unwilling to put up with her games any longer.

Turning your back on her, you mutter, “Fuck you, I’m leaving.”

…

“Wait!”

You’ve barely stepped between dressing rooms when you stop. For a moment, you think it’s nothing more than a dream. No way after the hard act she’s been doing, she finally concedes and begs.

“Wait.”

She repeats herself, but you remain frozen in place, uncertain if her plea is genuine or not. 

You gently tilt your head to look at her. Her eyes are on you. Gone is the stiff, cold expression on her lips. Instead, there’s a sorrowful, remorseful frown. 

“Don’t go.”

Her words drip with sincerity and longing. Despite the threat you’ve made to her, it is more than enough to draw you back in. The heart acts really strange, sometimes. 

“We need to talk. Just—don’t go.”

You sigh, knowing she’s more than likely going back to her ways as soon as this is all behind you, but at least she’s still in your grasp, somewhat. 

Both of you hear a knock on the door, followed by an echoey voice. 

“Is everything okay back there?”

“Yes! I’m all right, I just need to attend to a friend’s call,” she says casually.

Right. There’s four guys outside that will definitely give you more severe back pain than she normally would riding you or slamming you against the bedroom walls. Unfortunately, no weaseling your way out by yourself, except with maybe Hyewon’s help. 

Turning your head back to her, you quietly ask, “No more being a hardass?”

She meets your gaze, then she softly nods.

—————

You’re both seated on the couch again, this time looking at each other without visible hostility. She doesn’t look happy, but she doesn’t appear upset either—at least compared to earlier. Her fingers playfully twirl with her dark hair, quietly waiting for you to finally open up about everything.

“I don’t know where to start, Hyem.” You clasp your hands together as you try to gather up your thoughts into something relatively cohesive and understandable. “There’s plenty of things you need to know—”

“Just get it over with,” she replies coldly as her eyes look down her blouse and legs. 

“This is serious, Hyem. Please don’t be like that.”

“Be like what? I’m listening to you, what else do you want from me?” She jolts up from her relaxed position and glares at you. “You know I’m wasting precious time by listening to you right now. I should be doing a photoshoot, but here you are.”

You want to reply back that you’ve seen everything—but you refuse. So you gulp your throat and go silent for a moment.

“Miyawaki Sakura has escaped prison,” you say, having formed a way to explain the situation around her. 

“And?” Hyewon sounds unfazed knowing that she almost died by her hand.

“Sakura escaped prison,” you repeat, turning to face her. “We’re all in grave danger, you know? We don’t know where she is, what she might do, or when she’ll strike! Hell, she could be on her way right now!”

Her eyes widen a tad bit, but nevertheless, she stays unworried about it. “Okay. You make it sound like she escaped yesterday. Absolutely no way she knows where we are right now.”

“Did you not see her mansion? She has all sorts of tech and money lying around! She could be tracking one of us!”

“Relax, baby.” Hyewon gets up from the couch, walks over to a mini-fridge to grab some water and a glass inside, then places the drink on the table after filling it to the brim. “You’re just paranoid or having nightmares.”

“God, Hyewon, I—” you stop yourself before you drink the glass of water she offered. “You’re so awfully calm about this. There’s a high likelihood she might go after you first. I’m just worried about us.”

“Us?” She raises her eyebrow in confusion. “Which ‘us’ are you referring to?” 

You don’t know how to answer that. She clearly has the other girls in mind when rebutting your concern.

“I don’t need to be there or have a camera to figure out that you’ve fucked them behind my back,” she continues, walking back to the couch and taking her seat again. “I can tell by your body language you’ve been wanting them more than me lately.”

You definitely have no proper argument to her comment. It’s true. All of it.

“Come to think of it,” she places a forefinger on her chin, as if she’s playfully thinking. “You saw everything, did you?”

“Hyem, I—”

“Sure you did. No need to lie to my face.” Hyewon inches her finger close to your lips, giving you a frightening, but also alluring stare while shutting you up. “Fuck, I think it’s so hot too. Having all my holes filled like that. I bet you were jealous of them.”

She plants a soft kiss on your lips, fixing her seductive gaze on yours, making you tremble in your spot. Just when you thought you had control, she firmly reminds you who it truly belongs to.

“I’m not gonna argue with you any longer.” She plants her hands on your knees and hovers her light frame atop yours, her face edging close to your ear and changing her vocal tone from serious to sultry in an instant. “Kiss me.”

Smooch. Hit her right at the center, where your lips belong. It’s only stuck to her for a handful of seconds, but the sweet taste lingers longer, beyond any concept of time. When you regretfully draw back, she responds with a sweeter, succinct kiss of her own. Your hands tie into a loving knot, then she leads yours around her slender waist, tightly gripping your nails into the expensive fabric of her clothes until you feel the soft sensation of her ass hidden beneath the dress. 

She gasps. Her eyes go shut at that moment, the firmness of your grip hinting at the pleasure she knows very well. You feel a tug on that held hand, and without a second thought, you grab a handful of that tasty flesh again. Another airy gasp escapes Hyewon’s breath; waves of ecstasy begin to consume her and leave her with nothing but primal lust. 

“God,” she mutters with light difficulty, bodily bliss overpowering her brain’s ability to form words. “I miss this feeling of you so much.”

Admittedly, you feel the same way about her too.

After a little struggle, she recaptures your lips in another passionate, torrid kiss. A melodic hum vibrates from her mouth to yours while her body squirms and wriggles wildly over your lap, locking your hands together with one securely fastened to her rear. One of your legs kicks up and wraps itself around her body too as the two of you sink deep into the couch, making out fervently as desire becomes top priority in your minds. 

The love making continues for a little bit, until she decides she’s had enough to withdraw her lips back with a slight pop. Hyewon readjusts her position above you, kicking her heels off then loosening the hold your leg has around her waist. Planting her palms on your clothed chest, she looks down at you with a fire in her eyes, one you haven’t seen in quite a while. 

“Come on, rip this stupid thing off me,” she says. Not a simple command, but rather a firm demand. 

Raise your head lightly. Her weight keeps most of your body buried on the sofa as your hands explore her heavenly body wearing expensive fabric. Right. 

“These are too expensive, you sure they won’t—”

She vehemently shakes her head before you finish questioning her. “Don’t care. Besides, they can just buy another one. These are not mine, anyway.”

If only she didn’t care about the tear in your relationship. Oh well, at least there’s a start.

Hyewon spreads her arms wide, as if going for a hug, but in actuality, commanding you to undress her at once, and you certainly will never deny that order. 

She waits intently as your hands finish their exploratory journey around her body and make their way to the center of her long white blouse. She throws her head and sighs wistfully as you slowly unzip and expose more and more of her freshly washed, pearly skin without any other bits of clothing hiding them. No lingerie, no underwear, just her nakedness cloaked behind one flowing garment. 

You partially pull the fabric off her shoulder only for Hyewon to do the rest, letting the dress glide down to your pants before she hastily tosses them aside to the floor. It doesn’t surprise her when your eyes immediately dart toward her bountiful chest as she hovers on top of you on all fours, holding your hands together with hers to keep you under her control. She lifts them from her body and plants them to the leathery sofa as her face approaches yours. 

Her lips drown yours in a third, but just as fervid smooch. While your hands struggle, locked under her tight grip, her figure grinds on you in an animalistic manner, arching her back while going up and down in waves as her breasts land and lift over your chest. She’s engulfing you with every bit of passion, lust, and desire that you will never be able to escape from.

—————

There’s a knock on the door. Like an annoying fly whizzing by, it persists. Sometimes, there is an occasional shout of a ‘Hello! Are you okay there?’ from someone, but it’s met without a verbal response. The four naive men, whose time is just as important as their muse, try to open the door, but to no avail. It’s locked. Soon, the casual thumps grow into thunderous bangs and blows.

Little do they know—or soon they will—that the screams inside are of excitement, not danger.

You, just as naked as she is at this point, are no longer being pinned down to the couch by Hyewon. Instead, you’re holding her soft flesh from behind while she’s on all fours, her face dashed to the backrest while your hard cock is firmly impaled deep inside her wet pussy, violently pounding her while her moans are occasionally muffled by being pushed deep into the leather. It doesn’t matter to her how uncomfortable she is; she wants to feel every inch of you drilling her sopping cunt like it’s your first time. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me hard just like that!” she cries out in pleasure as you pull her slightly from the couch, only to push her back in as you fuck her wildly. You gladly oblige, having forgotten your sense of time and place, only focused on filling her with your wants and hers. 

You’ve mostly restrained your voice to keep your sinful act at the low, but she’s making it oh-so obvious to everyone that you’re there. You’ve tried to shush her at the start, but once you’ve speared her with her favorite toy, that is, your shaft, any hint of subtlety has been thrown out the window. Every single person in the building might as well have heard you two fuck, even behind several layers of tile and wall. 

She turns her head around to glance at how you’re holding up. To her delight, you look very spent. You’re breathing heavily, consumed by the tightness of her snatch to think beyond rapid gasps and sharp grunts. You catch a wicked grin forming on her lips; she’s evidently leading you to completely shatter—if you weren’t already fractured by her beforehand.

“Just let it all out,” she mutters between your pumps. “I know it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You bite your lips in a desperate cover to remain steady, but it’s merely a weak facade. She just feels so damn good. 

“Fuck, Hyem, you’re tight. So fucking tight.” The words depart from your lips in such a natural manner that feel so wrong, yet so right. If not for the sensation of her soft, mushy flesh in your hands, they’d run straight to your mouth out of instant regret.

Yet you don’t regret a single second of the last half-hour spent relishing the feel of her wet pussy warming your admittedly needy shaft.

Satisfied with the response, she looks away with an arrogant smirk before a stream of prolonged mewls fill the room with delight. 

There’s nothing around you to distract from the sight of Hyewon’s naked body reacting in kind to each thrust you give her, her arms and knees grinding back and forth on the couch to the point they’re sore. She’s holding up very well despite everything she’s taken already, which shouldn’t surprise you, but it does.

Maybe she wants you to deliver the finishing blow.

The echoes and thumps from the dressing room door grow louder, but they’re not enough to overpower the sloppy and erotic sounds you’re both making. You want to burst, finally break, for this to end already, and her velvety walls putting your dick in a harsh chokehold certainly help in speeding up the process, but you want the feeling to last a little longer, maybe more than you initially want it to last.

If only your ears can selectively mute the outside sound—but Hyewon’s moans certainly work as a fine substitute. They’re nicer to hear, too. 

One hand is firmly pressed on her reddened ass cheek, the same piece you’ve marked for so long, while the other finds its way around her hair, tangling countless strands in a bundle around your fingers. Your legs tremble as you feel that sharp knot in your stomach, the sign of the impending collapse. Between the door or you, you want to beat them to it with utmost urgency. 

You gasp while you look down as your cock slips in and out of her tunnel, coated with waves of slick a couple of times over. Hyewon’s body continues to rock on the couch with each plunge, increasing her already loud moans to somewhat deafening levels. The more you drill her, the more that warm feeling in your groin expands, which is what you both eagerly want to happen.

Focusing all your efforts into flying over the edge, you pull her figure closer to you without warning as you fuck her wildly, leaving Hyewon to plant her nails deep into the cloth, creating tiny holes on the sofa. 

“Oh God please fill me fuck fuck fuck—”

A gunshot-like sound rips through the room as the four men finally burst into the room. Within seconds they rush to the other side, where Hyewon is, and their eyes widen in utter shock at the sight before them.

A quiet, collective sigh leaves both you and her breaths as you unload deep inside her. Coating her walls and the couch with thick waves of slick, you crumble to your knees, down to her level. 

Speechless. That’s what you and the other men in the room feel right now, for different reasons.

Their presence seems invisible to you, not when there’s Hyewon’s hole, leaking with your cum, right in front of you. She looks back at you, raising an eyebrow before flashing a bright, cheerful smile—one that tonally contrasts the scenery around her. 

It takes a few minutes before another voice can be heard from anyone. Even as Hyewon hops off the sofa, leading your paralyzed body on it and straddling herself back onto your lap once more, not a single soul can muster up a word toward her. 

“Hyem, w-who—who is this—”

She turns her head around to find her co-models with their jaws dropped and frozen in place. She remains unfazed and carefree.

“Oh, him? That’s just my boyfriend,” she says nonchalantly before planting a kiss on your cheek as you keep trying to gather oxygen, still oblivious to their presence. “Look, I love taking your cocks and all, they’re very nice, don’t get me wrong—”

Hyewon snakes her arms around your shoulders and neck, leaning close to your ear before continuing, shifting her tone to that familiar sultriness. “But none of you will ever fuck me as good as he can.”

Seemingly regaining her strength, she begins to bounce on your lap while beaming the most smug of smirks at the hunks. It leaves them defeated, almost demoralizing in a way, that they leave you both alone, one by one. When they’re no longer inside the dressing room, she comes to a complete halt, cupping your cheeks and leaving one more impassioned kiss on your lips. 

Your senses begin to regain life. A couple of blinks of the eye then you shake your head. “Hyem, I—”

“Shhh.” Hyewon places a finger on your lips, just like earlier. “I understand. I just wanted you to calm down by fucking me.” 

Your eyes widen at that strange answer. “What?”

“She’s out there, we’ll put her back in that prison where she belongs. Easy.”

“It’s not that simple, Hyem. We don’t know where she might be or what she’ll do, remember?”

“Doesn’t matter, that bitch will end up in prison once more.”

You pause to contemplate her sudden change in attitude regarding Sakura, but knowing it’s your goal to bring her down again, you nod in agreement. 

She smiles cutely.

“Wait, I want to ask you something. Actually, two things.”

“What is it?”

A prolonged pause follows; you’re worried that she will be upset with what you have in mind. She gently caresses your cheek and brushes off bits of hair to fully see you. You look to be deep in thought.

Nevertheless, you ask away. There isn’t a better opportunity to do so.

“First, what’s up with the sudden attitude change? And second—” You pause for a moment with a gulp in your throat. “What about us? I feel like we should talk it out and discuss our relationship. We should be open, you know?”

Hyewon stares at you idly without a word. She holds you tight in her embrace, but she doesn’t utter a sound. Panic immediately runs through your head, wondering if you’re asking too much from her, considering how abrupt everything has been within the past hour.

“I just want this all to be over,” she whispers. You feel her grip loosen and the weight in your lap lighten as she glides off you. The happy expression on her face turns to a seemingly gloomy frown as she picks up her dress off the floor. 

After a moment to observe her changes, feeling paranoid and concerned, you ask timidly, “W-what do you m-mean?”

She doesn’t respond right away. 

After putting on new clothes, in the middle of combing her frazzled hair, she finally answers.

“We’re over,” she sternly says right in your direction, with a steely glare that might as well be a bullet directed to your heart. “If that’s what should make you comfortable with them, then so be it.”

While she walks away, presumably to finish her shoot, you run up to her with even more questions in your mind, but you end up asking none. 

“That doesn’t answer anything, Hye—”

“It answers both.”

She doesn’t waste another second with you, turning herself away from you after dropping the answer, pointing her finger to the door where you entered before leaving the dressing room.

“Tell Eunbi and Yena I already know.”

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane's Pets Chapter 87: Curse

TWs in the tags

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Masterlist

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This is wonderful. Sucks for the intruder, but you don’t have to think about that. For you, this is wonderful. Jane is downstairs torturing someone and it’s not even Kitty or Puppy! You get to prepare spells and know Jane isn’t around while also knowing Puppy and Kitty are relatively safe. Well, you hope Puppy is safe. She’s probably fine.

You get out the materials you’ve gathered and prepare the spells you can remember. Kitty watches.

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing spells.” …did you ever even end up telling Kitty about learning magic? If you did, neither of you seem to remember it. “Barron taught me. Apparently that’s just, like, a thing that any human can do. I can teach you, if you want.”

“I’m not sure how well I can learn complex stuff like that right now...”

You smile at the way they phrased that. That they’re not sure instead of insistent that they’ll never be able to think again. That they said ‘right now.’ They have some hope for the future! You did that. “Fair enough. Let me know if you ever feel up for it. And want to.”

Kitty nods. “Um… why are you preparing spells?”

“I’m going to make it so the food we’ve got in the fridge can heal us. And try some spells against Jane.”

Kitty pales. “Don’t. Please, don’t make me watch her hurt you-” “She’ll hurt me either way. At least this way I’m learning something.”

They’re tearing up already. “Please…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. Just forget it. Go take a nap or something.” There are screams of pain coming from downstairs, but they aren’t Puppy’s, and that’s all that matters.

Kitty doesn’t go take a nap, but they don’t say anything either. They just watch as you carve runes you barely remember.

When you finish, you go to the fridge and start casting healing spells on the food. 

Kitty gasps. “Your eyes… they turned yellow.”

You smile. “Yeah, Barron’s magic made a popping noise. Mine is quiet but turns my eyes yellow. Isn’t that cool?”

Kitty seems less anxious as they watch. “Will the food really heal us now?”

None of you are particularly injured right now, thankfully. There are some fingernails still growing back and some bones still healing, but no open wounds.

Holy shit. Did you really just think that you’re doing well because you only have broken bones and missing fingernails? Holy shit. You freeze for a moment before continuing with casting. “Yeah. It… kind of feels like a waste, since there are times I could barely move through the injuries and I would’ve rather had healing then… but I don’t know when I’ll next get the chance to do this. And I probably wouldn’t be able to cast if I was in that much pain anyway. And it’s not like there’s a limited amount of magic, it’s just- if I get caught, this’ll be the only chance to use these healing spells, and if I’m only going to get to use them once I’d want the pain to be unbearable… sorry, that’s not important. Yes, the food will heal us. It’ll speed up our healing, at least.”

Kitty nods. “You’re less likely to get caught if you don’t attack her.”

“I know. But I’m not going to let this be the rest of our lives. I’m going to find a way to stop her. You haven’t lost that hope you had, have you? You said you thought it was possible, if we just figured out how. You said everyone has weaknesses. We just have to figure out how to get rid of her powers.” “...you think these spells can get rid of her powers?”

“I think they have a higher chance of doing it than just waiting in case a solution falls in our lap.”

Kitty nods slowly. “What spells were you wanting to try?”

You close the fridge, having finished casting all the healing spells you prepared. “I don’t remember a whole lot of them. There are some spells that are supposed to reduce pain, but they have such horrible side effects… I wonder what would happen if we used them on her? Especially when she’s so different from everything else Barron told me about. Maybe a healing spell would hurt her, since she can already heal herself? It’s all worth a shot, at least. I also remember a curse I saw that I thought might work on her, it's supposed to lock away magic for a period of time. I only have so many memorized, and most wouldn't be super useful in attacking Jane, but I could try to figure out more spells. I know vaguely what symbols mean what, if I can figure out which ones to combine…”

“Is there any way I can help?”

“Hmm… think you can distract her while I cast? She needs to be caught by surprise, otherwise she’ll just teleport away.” Kitty nods. “I can distract her. Just signal me when you’re ready. Uh… wink at me or something.”

“I will. When do you think she’ll be back up here?”

Kitty shrugs. “It’s hard to guess, even when my brain works. Is there anything you need to do before she comes up?”

“I’ve prepared all the spells I want to try on her that I can remember. I can try to make new ones while we wait.”

Kitty nods. “I think I’ll take a nap. Put everything away real fast and wake me up if you hear the screaming stop.”

“Right.” You’d been trying to tune the screaming out, but you’ll need to know when it stops if you don’t want to get caught.

Kitty lies down on the couch and immediately passes out. That’s good. It’s always better when they can sleep through the drug effects, and Jane might forget to give them more if she’s busy torturing someone else! You sit in a beanbag chair and start preparing spells that may not even exist. You’ll have to work on complete guesswork for the words and motions for these ones, too. But hey, maybe you’ll discover a new spell which has the sole purpose of killing whatever kind of creature Jane is. That would be great. And wasn’t Barron’s job discovering/creating new spells? You should’ve asked it more about what it did day to day…

Your chest aches at the thought of Barron. It’s dead because of you. It would still be alive if you’d just been good. 

You wipe your eyes and refocus on your work. 

You're having a bit of trouble focusing, but you summon all your willpower to, even as you feel a headache starting. Jane's wounds heal. You know that, you saw that. But there are ways of killing someone without wounds. You remember, vaguely, a story of hercules slaying a lion with an unbreakable hide by suffocating him. And there are other things you can think of too- would she heal if her entire body was destroyed at once? Would limbs reattach if they got cut off? Would they regrow? And what's likely to be something she's never encountered before? 

Instead of feeling like there's no possible way out like you often did before, you see dozens of pathways in front of you. Most are probably dead ends, but that doesn't matter as much as the fact that you're not stuck anymore. There are ways forward. You won't let Barron, Diya, and Ray's deaths mean nothing.

–

Puppy stumbles away from Jared to throw up bile, then comes back and whips them again. 

“I was curious!” They shriek. “I’d been here before and there wasn’t a house, so I wanted to figure out how it got built so fast! That’s all! I swear!”

She’s already emptied their pockets. In them, there was more powder, some leaves with symbols drawn on them, and a booklet full of notes on the house. On the screams that came from it. On when Puppy leaves to go shopping and when she returns. “I’m sure you can think of a better lie than that.” Her voice is shaky, but she tries to sound like Master when she does interrogations. “What are these notes for?”

“I can help you! Let me help you!”

Puppy sets down the whip and gets a hammer. “This is your last chance to give me something convincing before I break every bone in your hand.” She feels nauseous again, but just grits her teeth. Later.

“I just wanted to help! I detected some weird magic here- and then I heard all the screaming and- and- please, I just want to help!”

“Can others detect this magic? Are we going to get more visitors?” Master might have to move them again.

“I don’t know!”

Puppy sighs. She was really looking forward to being done with this. “I think you’re lying to me, Jared.” She can hear how Master would say a line like that, how it would send shivers down her spine, but when she says it sounds teary and afraid and disappointed (but not in the way Master sounds when she’s disappointed, when there’s a threat behind it- just kind of sad).

“No! I swear, I swear, I just wanted to help-” “I believe that part. But I think that if it was so easy to detect Master’s magic, I’d have had to deal with a lot more of people like you. We don’t get a lot of people poking around.”

“It wasn’t easy, I just…” They trail off. Unable to think of a reason why they’re here and other mages aren’t if it was just a matter of detecting magic.

Puppy takes Jared’s hand. “Here’s what I think. Bunny’s mage friend told you about us, and now that you haven’t heard from it for a while, you decided to come find the house it told you about.”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

Puppy brings the hammer down onto their hand. They shriek and pull away, but the damage is done. Puppy gags, her body trying to somehow vomit up the guilt and disgust as if it's a physical thing. This shouldn’t be this hard. She’s hurt Bunny and Kitty, her closest friends, with less issues than this.

“I just want to help you! Let me help you!” Jared is sobbing.

“Who else did Bunny’s friend tell about us?”

“No one, I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

She reaches for their hand again. “W-wait! I- I’m the only one it told!”

Puppy stops. Really, that’s just the smart thing to say, even if she’s wrong and Jared really hasn’t met Bunny’s mage friend. “There we go. What did it tell you?”

Jared sobs. “I don’t- it told me what it was researching about the monster, what her powers are- well, what her known powers are. And it gave-” Jared takes deep, gasping breaths “it gave directions to this place, in case- in case something happened. Did- is-?”

“It’s dead. You will be soon, too, if you’re lucky.”

Jared sobs some more. Puppy tries to think of more questions to ask. Master won’t be happy if Puppy ends the interrogation before she gets back.

“What are your pronouns, by the way?” This is all so fucked up. Puppy tries not to laugh. Jared isn’t Master, they won’t find her laughing in inappropriate situations cute.

Jared doesn’t answer, just cries, so she Puppy abandons that line of questioning. She feels no need to torture that out of them. 

“What was your plan here? Did the mage tell you Master had weaknesses? It was wrong if it did.”

“I just- I was still forming the plan, I didn’t realize the invisibility spell had worn off-”

That… that is interesting. Master wouldn’t have let them get away with the repeated spying if she knew, right? Puppy isn’t sure… but maybe, maybe if someone were use a spell like that and always stay invisible, Master wouldn’t be able to find them… Now that she thinks about it, a distant memory comes up. She was in a lot of pain and so tired and probably drugged, but she thinks Master might have told her once that she can sense shadows even outside her void, and someone who’s invisible wouldn’t cast a shadow…

She shakes herself out of it. That’s a dangerous train of thought to go down. And it's not like Master has ever had any trouble finding people in dark rooms without shadows.

“Do you regret snooping?”

Jared nods. Puppy struggles to think of more questions. 

“Did you tell anyone what Barron told you?” Jared’s going to answer no regardless of the true answer, of course. They shake their head.

“Did you tell anyone where you were going? Does anyone know you’re here?”

Predictably, they shake their head.

“If someone comes looking for you, I’m going to assume you lied to me, and, as punishment, skin them alive. Understand?”

Jared nods shakily.

“Good.” She wracks her brain for another question. “For you to be here, after learning about her powers… Are you stupid?”

Puppy hears Master giggling behind her. That’s… good. Yeah, she doesn’t have to think of any more questions. She probably won’t get to talk again for months. But that's fine. That's fine.

"What did he say, Puppy?”

“Bunny’s mage friend told them about this place. According to them, it didn’t tell anyone else.”

Master nods. "That matches up with what I found fairly well. Lucky you, Jared! If it hadn't, this would be a lot worse." 

She takes a cattle prod from her void. Puppy instinctively drops to her knees, but Master is entirely focused on Jared. 

"You can go back upstairs, Puppy. I'll put the muzzle back on later. You do not have permission to speak."

Puppy's… surprised. Normally, Master would want her to help with torturing someone. But she knows better than to question her Master. She goes upstairs, ignoring Jared's pleas for help.

–

You'd shaken Kitty awake and were mentally preparing to face Jane when the screaming started up again. Huh…

Puppy comes through the door to the basement. Her muzzle isn't on, and there are pressure sores across her face where it used to lie. "...Puppy?"

Kitty also seems surprised. "Is Jane coming?"

Puppy shrugs. Fair enough.

"Uh…" You hesitate for a second, wondering if helping her with her wounds will interfere with your plan, but it shouldn't, right? "I'll go get the first aid kit."

You quickly grab the first aid kit and come back. "Can you sit down?"

Puppy sits down on the couch, next to Kitty. You start cleaning the wounds on her face.

"Is it just these? Or do you have other injuries?"

She just looks at you.

"Oh, right." Just one question at a time while she can't talk. "Do you have other injuries?"

She shakes her head. You finish cleaning her face and start bandaging it. You feel like you should apply some ointment or something, but you don't have any, and you're no doctor. Maybe that would just make it worse, anyway.

"The intruder's still screaming." You whisper to her. "She can't be multiple places at once. You could eat something."

Her eyes widen in horror and she shakes her head rapidly. You didn't really expect any different, but you figured there was no harm in trying.

You're worried about how casting a spell on Jane is going to go with Puppy here. She definitely won't help you with distracting Jane like Kitty will, but hopefully she won't catch on quickly enough to stop you either.

"Okay. Do you wanna play a game or something?"

She nods. Kitty already seems to be having trouble staying awake, so you look for a simple game that won't require too much brain power.

"How does Sorry sound?" Not too skill-based, but with enough decision making that it's interesting.

Puppy nods and Kitty hums affirmatively, or at least you think so. You set the game up, and the three of you play three rounds before the screaming downstairs stops.

You had been lying on Puppy's shoulder, but you immediately push away and sit up at the disconcerting silence. Kitty also grows more alert, watching you for the signal that it's time for a distraction. Puppy stares straight ahead, no visible emotion on her face.

The screaming might start up again, like it did before. This isn't a guarantee that she's watching. Just as someone screaming isn't a guarantee that she's with them in the basement…

You shake that thought off. Someone might cry from pain in the aftermath of torture, but usually not scream. At least not the wordless, agonized screams that the intruder's been producing up until now.

"What're you playing?" Jane appears sitting next to you, covered in blood and looking very happy with herself. You recoil. Just her presence makes your heart beat faster, makes you dizzy with fear.

"Sorry. We're playing Sorry." 

"How fun." Jane says. She grabs Puppy's hair and inspects her, noting the new bandages. She has a muzzle in her hands where there wasn't one before, and starts strapping it to Puppy's face.

She's distracted- now's the time. You won't even need Kitty to do a distraction. You pull a rock out of your pocket, the one you set aside for this specifically, and quickly say the incantation and do the motions required for the spell.

If this goes right, it should steal the air from Jane's lungs, and continue suffocating her until you lose concentration.

She stops putting the muzzle on Puppy's face and turns to look at you, raising an eyebrow. She's not breathing, and not trying to either.

You're worried she's going to start hurting Puppy to break your concentration, but instead she just finishes muzzling Puppy and goes back to staring at you. No one moves.

It's… been a long time without her breathing. She doesn't seem remotely phased. She seems… amused, if anything. 

"I don't think she needs to breathe, Bunny." Kitty says softly. You can't see their expression, or Puppy's- you don't want to look away from Jane in case it breaks the spell.

"Well, she clearly needs to breathe in order to talk. At least this can shut her up for a while."

Jane laughs without air. She doesn't need to talk to get this message across. Stupid Bunny.

She could easily break your concentration. Come over and stab you, or worse, hurt Puppy or Kitty. But she doesn't. She just stares at you, smiling.

She's waiting for you to break off the spell yourself. This is a lesson. She's letting you do this for the same reason she let you be free with Barron, Diya, and Ray for a year.

You want to be petty and hold out until you fall unconscious, but… that won't really help anyone. And your head is really starting to hurt. So you drop the spell.

Jane laughs audibly, now. "You must've been waiting all day for that! Again, do you really think I'd still be alive if it was that easy to kill me?"

You thought it was possible. Anyone trying to suffocate her normally would've had to contend with her teleporting, but with magic… it was worth a shot.

"I'm surprised that worked at all, to be honest. Most spells don't work on me. Though I guess that was more a spell on the air around me than me? Anyway. Give me your collar."

You expected this, if you failed. You take the collar off your neck and hand it to her.

"Go downstairs."

You head down to the basement. Jane is already there when you reach the bottom.

"You can't curse me, Bunny. Me being alive at all is a curse, one that no magic has been able to remove. Do you have any idea what that's like, to live and live and live no matter how painful it is? I think I've given you some idea… but we can do better, can't we?"

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff

@fuckcapitalismasshole

[whoopsmorewhump]

It's okay just to say 'I'm not okay' (platonic stobin fic)

Robin and Steve feel each other’s pain more than they’ll admit, even to each other. From Whumptober day 30, “It’s okay just to say I’m not okay” bridal carry; plus, another lovely prompt from pearlravenlapis (not quoted here, as it gives too much plot away!)

Rated T; no warnings; Also on AO3.

***

The day had started more than okay.

This adorable girl rocked up at Scoops, with the latest issue of “UFO Reality” tucked under her arm. Robin blurted: “You read it yet? The story on alien skulls inscribed with teeny, snack-sized messages from Elvis totally slayed me dead.”

Dream-girl’s shy smile turned Robin’s knees to jello.

She introduced herself as Maud, and they chatted UFOs for the next forever. Right until a square-jawed, smug-as-hell knucklehead loped into the store, and Maud announced he was her boyfriend.

Now, Robin watched her latest unrequited crush sharing a Strawberry Sundae Extra with her excruciatingly not-worthy-of-her date.

“Seriously, Robin,” said Steve, levelling at her shoulder. “I’ve seen more electricity between a pair of squashed ants. They’re not even talking.” 

Robin wasn’t in the mood for chirpy delusion: “That’s because they’re mainlining ice-cream, Steve.”

“She’s hardly stuffing her face. She couldn’t stop blabbering with you.”

Unable to endure the sight any longer, Robin swung her attention onto him. He was chewing on… Hmmm, to be fair, that was only his first banana of the day. Unusual. He dumped half of it, uneaten, on the hatch.

“Did she even actually wanna talk to me?” wondered Robin out loud. “I honestly can’t remember if she got a word in edgeways. You know how it is, when I can’t stop talking. It’s a fault, believe me I know—"

“You were fine. You said stuff. Maud said stuff back. And it’s not a fault—your mom spouts nasty bullshit, you should accept that. My point is, that girl you like totally—”

“—hates me.” Robin sighed.

“No. She’s probably confused.” He sniffed, pushed his hair from his brow. “She should dump that moron’s ass. Who hangs out in an ice-cream joint when it's this damn cold? It’s practically snowing out there."

"It's not cold in here, Steve.”

“It’s goddamn freezing! I mean, it’s this stoopid outfit—what fascist dictator makes their staff wear shorts in winter?”

“Stopped caring. I'm too institutionalised into looking like a dweeb.” She peeped back, to where Maud spooned a cherry into that jack-ass jock’s cakehole. Argh! She wanted to scream. Instead, she mumbled: “Shit-birds, do you think Maud thinks I'm a dweeb?”

“Jesus, how many times? Look, she reads dweeby UFO mags. So do you! Beyond that, I’m not an alien mind-probe, so quit bugging me already.” She gawked at him—wtf? He skittered his fingers over his eyes, groaned. “Sorry. This stupid cold is making me cranky. I honestly reckon Maud liked you. It’s just—”

“—horribly, insanely, eternally complicated?” Her fists clenched so tight her fingernails gouged her palms. On top of it all, she’d suddenly gotten this anxious dread, churning in her gut. Huh? Go figure. “I guess I’ll just keep smiling through. See my customer service smile?”

She bared her teeth maniacally.

“Remind me to get a mask of that for Halloween.”

“That bad, huh?”

He smiled, kinda pensively. “Nah. If I was a babe into babes, I’d still be battering down your door.”

She wanted to hug him then—despite his germs, which she was kinda grateful she hadn’t caught. Yet. A bratty little mall rat clanged on the bell, Steve hurried off to serve, and Robin continued feeling really, really shit. Right up until he caught her in the backroom, dabbing runny eyeliner with her knuckles.

She turned her back on him. Habit, really.

“Hey.” His hand landed softly on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

“Nothing new.” It’s her turn to sniffle.

“Look, I’m sorry I chewed your head off."

“You apologised already, Steve.”

“I’m apologising again. For the whole goddamn human race. I mean, I totally get your thing with UFOs, because, honestly, you deserve another planet. A better one. Worse thing is, I used to think like the dumbest dumbass in this world of crazy, till I met you, and now… Look, things will be better for you someday, because nobody deserves it more. Till then, I know it sounds cliché, but I’m here for you, and I guess… I dunno, when you have this much bullshit to put up with, it's okay just to say you’re not okay sometimes.”

She flung his arms around him and sobbed noisily into his shoulder. He patted her back, then rubbed soothing circles, and she sobbed even harder. She didn’t really know why she was crying. Yeah, what he said touched her deeply. But she’d never been a random public crier, today’s flop was nothing out of the ordinary, and she couldn’t even blame her monthly cycle… Uuuurgh.

She lifted her face, sniffed hard, grimaced. “I made your uniform all soggy.”

“No sweat. I dig your snot.” His sarcasm dropped off: “Any better?”

She shrugged. Superficially, yes, she felt less doom-y. Her catastrophic life remained just that, however, and that weird unfocussed dread loomed ever larger. 

He reached into his pocket, brought out a paper napkin. “It’s clean, honest. Although I guess the cost of that hug was probably catching my cold, so who cares, huh?”

“I care.” Ew! “And yeah, that had occurred.” She still couldn’t quite bring herself to regret the hug. However much she hated them with anybody else, she had to admit that it’d released happy chemicals. She blew her nose noisily. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Uh, you’ll probably need another for the eyeliner. There’s black goop, like, everywhere.”

She whipped out a powder compact with a mirror. Oh yeah. She’d gone for the full-on Joker look. Possibly, this was why she averted her despairing attention and started scrutinising Steve.

“Steve, are you okay? You look kinda—”

“—terminally dweeby? Or terminally dweeby and totally wrecked?” Catching his own reflection in the little mirror, he dabbed his slightly-less-buoyant-than-usual hair back into place.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a bit peaky.”

“It’s just this stupid cold. Plus, the crappy lighting in this dump. Seriously, sometimes guys need make-up too.”

She used her mirror to stare at him harder than herself now. Yeah, he looked pale, the shadows around his eyes nearly as shouty as her make-up malfunction. She snapped the mirror closed, spiralled back to face him.

“Steve, something else is wrong, isn’t it?”

“Woah! You’re, like, witchy when you do that, right?”

“Witchy?”

“Okay, maybe a bit psychic.”

“Alien brain-probe-y?”

“Yeah, that too. I mean, I figured I didn’t want to bother you, but…” He threw his hands up in surrender. “Let's just say my father has been extra cranky and disappointed in me lately, even by his short-tempered standards. That means extra shouty, and…” He rubbed his brow wearily. “Makes me feel even shitter about my life, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.” She longed to pay back that hug, though even with Steve, she was too squirmy and inexperienced to initiate one. He left then, anyway, heading back out front.

They were both uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the day. He seemed exhausted, and smothered increasingly regular bouts of coughing. She wanted simply to get home, bypass her mom’s daily character assassination, and then sob and bitch to herself about life in general. 

When she finally sank her face into the soon-to-be disgusting and soggy pillow, that feeling of dread overwhelmed her. She simply couldn’t stop worrying about Steve, to the point she felt ill. Which was ridiculous. After all, he was at the end of a phone line, right?

She snuck out past her mom—who was howling her butt off at some screamingly homophobic sit-com—and dialled Steve’s number. When his dad answered, she gritted her teeth, forced herself to be mega polite. 

“Hi there, Mr Harrington. Sorry to disturb you. Is Steve there, please? It’s Robin.”

“Robin? Are you the latest girlfriend?”

“No,” she managed to grind out. “I’m the… friend-friend.”

“Don’t try to be cute.” Seriously, I wasn’t! “If you see him, tell him he owes me a thousand bucks.”

The line went dead. Robin dropped the phone, stared at it as it swung from its coiled wire. What just happened?

She went back to her room, sat down on the edge of her bed. If Steve wasn’t in, was he on a date? He hadn’t mentioned one. That said, given her eternal back-catalogue of disaster on the dating song-list—and her latest episode of moping—he probably didn’t want to upset her. She switched off her lamp, tried to sleep.

Impossible.

What his Dad said rankled, and made no sense anyhow. Why did Steve owe him a thousand bucks? That was a year's wages! Then again, Steve had mentioned something a while back about his tightwad parents charging him rent. It was probably what they’d been rowing over.

By the early hours of the morning, that sensation of dread had flourished to the point where she could no longer stand it. Sleep wasn’t happening, so she pulled on a warm coat and scarf, headed out, and grabbed her bike.

Once Henderson had gotten over the initial shock of her tapping on his window at four a.m., he considered her theory seriously enough: “You reckon his parents threw him out, and he’s sleeping rough somewhere,” he clarified, while he unlocked the wheel of his bike. “Why didn’t he tell us?”

“He can be kinda proud like that. Plus, I was having a beyond-horrible day.” She clutched her handlebars ever tighter. Steve hadn’t needed to tell her, anyhow. She’d known, and her anxieties flurried toward panic. He’d been getting up sick, right? As her clouding breath confirmed, tonight was bonkers cold.

Dustin jammed his woolly hat down over his ears. “Right. If you were sleeping rough in Hawkins, where would you go?”

They tried the bus station, the shop fronts on Main Street, even the High School outbuildings. They wound up outside the police station, debating about whether to go in. 

“Nobody will take us seriously,” pointed out Dustin. “I mean, he’s not technically missing. We don’t have any evidence that he’s not at home in his bed, comfortably snoring, while we’ve been cycling around freezing our faces off.”

“He’s not,” said Robin, and creepily—witchily? —she’d rarely been more convinced of anything in her life. “He’s in trouble. I know it.”

“Seeing as we’ve looked, basically, everywhere, I’m going to need something a bit more scientific than that.”

“We’ve barely started!” protested Robin, as a police wagon drew up beside. Chief Hopper got out, bleary eyed and with a cigarette hanging from one side of his mouth.

“God, that was a wasted call-out,” he muttered, then, belatedly absorbing who they were, said: “What the heck are you two doing here?”

“Being total idiots!” said Robin, so loudly even the Chief baulked. “It’s so obvious! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

Hopper looked crankier. Dustin gesticulated wildly with his thickly mittened hands: “What!?!”

“His car! His dad said something like, ‘Steve owes me a thousand bucks.’ That’s about the value of his car, right?”

“Steve Harrington?” asked Hopper. “Yeah. Kid’s got a nice set of wheels. Anybody gonna enlighten me what you’re doing here at this godforsaken hour?”

“Steve’s been sleeping rough,” said Robin. “In his car.”

“What? Last night?” Hopper frowned. “Temperatures have been sub-zero.” 

“Yeah, we know,” mumbled Dustin. “We also don’t actually know for sure that Steve isn’t home, and this isn’t all in her he—"

“It’s not in my head, Henderson. He’s out there. Chief, you’ve got to help us find him.”

Hopper wearily stubbed out his cigarette, swung open the passenger door. “Get in.”

***

Shivering hurt. His teeth hurt from chattering. As the night got colder, Steve curled up in the backseat of his car and discovered everything hurt.

He never knew cold could feel like this, like how his gran used to describe it—creeping through his veins and into the marrow of his bones. Whatever the heck that was. He was wearing, literally, all his clothes. What the hell else could he do?

He'd used the heater the previous two nights, since he’d taken off from his parents’, basically homeless. Now he was out of gas, and there was no chance of getting a refill can till next payday so…

He curled even tighter, wrapping his arms around himself. Like a hug. He recalled how he and Robin had hugged earlier, how he’d felt better after that, about… everything. Which was stupid. Because it’d solved nothing for either of them. He faintly hoped he hadn’t given Robin his germs. If they even were germs. Who needed germs, when you were this damn freezing?

At length, his fingers and toes stopped hurting and turned numb. Then, at last, he sensed some warmth. Which was weird, but then again, he felt increasingly weird—his skin kinda prickly as if he sweated, then suddenly, he was way too hot. Which was totally nuts, and confusing, but he’d take it. He shrugged off his blanket, which slid into the footwell. He might have removed his scarf, which was getting suffocating, but he was too damn tired.

He slept, shallowly, and the darkness beneath his eyelids grew pitted with white. It wasn’t like snow. Nothing was that yielding or soft. He hadn't the strength left to rub his eyes. He threw all his effort into his next, shallow, whistling breath, and… Christ! It suddenly made sense. He could see his lungs, right? Which was insane, but his fevered little mind saw it anyhow. They seemed all brittle, lined with scratchy glass, scraping and tearing with every breath, until...

An ice-toothed gale blasted him sidelong. Robin's scared face veered up in front of him. Uh, he’s definitely hallucinating, right? Nobody knew he was here; nobody should know. He needed her, though. Kinda figured he’d die here without her, and then… he was just plain scared.

He closed his eyes. Too much. Waaaay too much. And, shit, maybe that wasn’t Robin. Maybe it was her aliens, and those were lights from a spaceship—a UFO?

Somebody—some thing —slid an arm around his shoulder, another under his knees. He was scooped up, and felt the sensation of being carried. His stomach performed a feeble flip. Am I dying? Am I dead? Or am I zooming to another planet!?!

Then nothing. Until…

His lungs still felt too tight. He was lying somewhere warm and soft, however, and the air didn't burn or freeze, nor make him prickle and sweat. In fact, it was kinda soothing and sweet, though it still proved a struggle to get enough.

Somebody squeezed his hand. Somebody or thing was holding his hand! Aliens? If so, why wasn’t he freaking out? He pried his too-sleepy eyelids open. Robin! 

"Steve!" She smiled and gave him another squeeze.  There was a plastic mask over his mouth and nose, and he lifted a hand to bat it away. She stopped him, settled the mask again. “I’d leave that, it’s the oxygen. You’re okay now. You’re gonna be just fine.”

He tried to talk, though speech wasn’t happening. Just an embarrassing croak. Her make-up was smudged again. He almost forced his dry lips into a smirk. He must look worse, but with Robin, that’s okay.

A nurse turned up, checking his pulse, and the oxygen machine, fluffing the pillows. She talked, but he was too sleepy to listen. Robin bobbed up again, working her face strangely, and he couldn’t read whether she was about to laugh or cry:

"Look, Steve,” she burst out, “yeah, it's okay to not be okay. Next time, can you please be more specific about EXACTLY HOW NOT OKAY YOU ARE."

"Okay," he wheezed, and she started up talking again. Her voice soothed him, even though he was too far gone to listen. 

He isn’t okay. He feels weak and jittery and everything aches.

From this new all-time low, he can’t even start to think about what his future might hold without wanting to yell. Which he can't even do! But her, and their friendship—it’s good. Which was probably why, even now, he’s feeling her pain again, just as strong as his. He hated how she suffered every single day, keeping her hopes and dreams a secret. Jesus, whatever hurt her, hurt him, too. And he was stupidly grateful for that, which made no sense either.

Perhaps he should tell her, when he’d gotten his voice back? Before or after he’d thanked her for having somehow saved his life. Or perhaps that would sound crazy and a bit creepy. Or witchy and physic? Huh, hadn’t he accused her of that earlier?

Listening to her talking, he ebbed and sank into somewhere safer and warm.

****

Part of this fic series (whump, platonic stobin & steddie fic)

[shivasdarknight]

I thought for sure I posted this wip a while ago but I can't seem to find it SO

ESTINIEN AND YSAYLE POST HVW REMEET, GOES AS WELL AS YOU THINK IT DOES >:3c

cw alcohol consumption

There was tense silence that filled the space between them, frustration and guilt mixing in with the despondence that threatened to consume Surkukteni as she glanced up and between Ysayle and Estinien.

“Was that Bajsaljen?” Estinien asked, quick to take the distraction.

Surkukteni nodded, but she didn’t look at all comforted that she’d finally been contacted by the Bozjan Resistance.  “It was about Altan.  She’s finally awake.”

Surkukteni’s little sister?

“Is she alright?” Ysayle was quick to ask, inadvertently confirming that her voice bothered Wyrmblood.

“No.”  Surkukteni swallowed hard, shaking her head and tussling her messy hair in the process.  “He wouldn’t give me the details, just that she’s up and making things difficult for the chirurgeons.”

“She’s your sister, alright,” Estinien muttered, sighing heavy.  “I presume you're leaving?”

There was the source of the conflict on her face, eyes screwing shut and lips twisting into a frustrated snarl.  “I can’t just not, but godsdammit this fucking timing.”

“Your family comes first,” was Estinien again, pointedly not looking at Ysayle - despite the fact that she was just a few fulms away from him at this point.  He took Surkukteni’s arm, catching her attention so that it was solely on him.  “We can deal with this later.  Do you need me to come with you?”

“I know what you’re doing and regardless of it, it’s not a good idea.”  Surkukteni sighed and pulled away, glancing between Ysayle and Estinien again - lingering longer on Estinien.  “I was prepared for the stress that this would bring considering everything, but to do this, leave it unresolved, and have Katsuro find out about our relationship?  He’s inevitably going to be there, and it’s just going to cause more stress when Altan doesn’t need it.”

A pang of guilt shot through Ysayle at that; that Surkukteni had expected turmoil hurt worse than any mortal wound.  Protests about Estinien’s attempt to flee that she had wanted to voice died in her throat, scarred hands curling into themselves.  ‘Twouldn’t be appropriate; best to mind her tongue.

As if she weren’t there, the conversation continued on: “Your brother ought to have some sense knocked into him,” Estinien muttered as Surkukteni slipped from him and towards the door.

“And I’m forever this close to enacting it myself.”  Surkukteni’s boots were hiked back up, strapping each one down tight around the scalemail that covered her large, muscular thighs - a peculiar knife tucked into one, with pale emeralds set into its pommel and sheathe.  “...I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.  I’m sorry.”

Surkukteni walked back to pull Estinien in a quick embrace that he mirrored, conflict still clear on her face.  She repeated the same with Ysayle, her grip tight to almost smother her in her arms - equally as large and muscular as the rest of her.  A heavy sigh slipped from Surkukteni’s lips as she walked back to the door, lingering at the handle as her gaze lingered on Ysayle.

“It’ll be fine,” Ysayle tried to assure, yet she knew she couldn’t promise that as she caught Estinien tense at the sound of her voice again.  “Focus on your sister.”

The tension didn’t ease at all from Surkukteni, shaking her head as she finally opened that damned door.  “I wanted to be here, but…”  She swallowed hard, composure settling into place as she gave them one last glance.  “Good luck.  ...I pray things go well.”

It was all Ysayle could do from looking horribly guilty, giving an assuring - yet fake - smile back.  “You as well.”

Estinien said naught, though his gaze yet lingered on Surkukteni - even as the door closed soundly behind her.

Tense silence was the only companion Ysayle would find in that room; a tension most tangible, a silence that threatened to suffocate.  The only thing she could hear over the anxious thudding of her heart in her ears was the muted sound of an incessantly ticking chronometer.

As Estinien said naught.

‘Twas his turn, it seemed, to be as still as a statue; but not quite, as she could see how his hands clenched into fists - over and over, yet saying naught.  It wasn’t the stillness of stone, but the trembling rigidity of something about to crack that paralyzed him — like a bow pushed to its limits.

And much like a bow looses its burden to avoid shattering under the strain, the tension in the air snapped as Estinien stormed out of the room.

The frustration in Ysayle’s breast had finally reached a boiling point, quick to stalk after him, thoroughly sick of the silence.  Venom burned hot against her tongue, right on his heels as he made his way into the kitchenette.  “And where are you going?” she spat, words acting like arrows that he had set free.

“I need a drink.”  His voice was curt, sharp; right to the point.  So much restraint, so much tension - yet he wouldn’t even look at her.  “I can’t damn well do this sober.”

It mutely occurred to Ysayle that this was the first time he’d directly spoken to her - the first time in years.  Some bloody reunion.  Not that it changed anything about her conscious actions, feeling less willing to be civil with each moment that passed.  “Am I such an affront to you?”  Predictably, he said naught.  Instead, he pawed through the cabinet noisily - not looking at her, not speaking to her.  “Do you loathe the fact that I live?  That I survived?  That I stand before you now?  For what reason do you have to act like this?”

Still nothing.  Seemed he wasn’t going to bother with a glass, instead just ripping the top off of some bottle of gin and tipping it back with little regard for himself.

Still that chronometer ticked on; still that taught tension like another arrow had been drawn.  A million and more things flooded Ysayle’s mind, itching to loose them at Estinien, yet found herself stuck in indecision as she stared daggers into him - ever her opposite as he just seemed despondent.  The gin bottle hit the extended shelf loudly; one hand a fist around the bottle, the other balled up on the surface - knuckles as white as bone.

Still, Estinien said naught.

Still, the chronometer ticked on.

Still, Ysayle’s heart roared in her ears - poisonous words damming up her throat.

The tension snapped; and with it, Estinien’s silence.

“Four years,” he rasped in a low voice, each word carefully enunciated - impact after impact - yet said at a snail’s pace.  His tempo gradually picked up with every sentence that left him, yet the tension eased naught - only stoking the fervor that he spoke with; a fervor that set the ever-increasing, cruel rhythm he followed.  “Four years.  Four bloody years.  Four years of grieving, four fucking years of guilt and self loathing - four godsdamned years of watching someone I love lose herself in your absence.  Of doing what I could to atone while knowing damned well it’d never be enough; of wishing and cursing mineself out for it not being me instead - for if anyone were to fall, it should have been me and not you.  Of bells spent talking to nothing - relaying what I could recall - and yet.”

The most defeated, most self-deprecating laugh escaped Estinien, bowing his head as silver curtained his face and hid it from view.  “And yet here you stand.”  His voice cracked as he spoke, so quiet Ysayle almost missed it.  “Here you stand as if none of it happened.  Here you stand like it all happened but yesterday, and you still loathe me all the same - not that I can blame you, you’ve every reason to.”  A shuddering breath, but he still wouldn’t look at her.  “Funny.  It all came so freely when I thought I was talking to you, and yet as you stand before me it instead eludes me.  Bloody typical.”

Try as Ysayle might, the urge to be argumentative still rose - still drove the response that came to her.  It was funny, wasn't it?  To her, it sounded like a lot of words to say next to nothing at all.  Anger burned in her breast that she tried to douse, but it grew harder the longer silence stretched on between them.  All of that, and for what?

"You sound as if you're faulting me for surviving," Ysayle began, trying to rein her tone in and failing miserably.  "For what I did to help you and yours.  Pardon me for not alerting you specifically that I wasn't dead; I was a bit preoccupied with recovering from a near-death experience!"  It was all Ysayle could do from seething, but by the gods she wished Surkukteni was there.

"The problem isn't that you survived, it's that the circumstances in which you damn well seemed to die should have never happened."  Estinien sounded as if he were trying his hardest to not shout, voice restrained and body still as tense as a bow pulled beyond its limit.  "That I contributed to you feeling as if the only way you could be of any use to us was to sacrifice yourself for our cause still eats at me to this day - not at all lessened by how much it clearly pains Surkukteni to be without you.  That neither of us could do anything to stop or aid you remains a sticking point ever still, and I know I’m speaking for Surkukteni in this moment but she’s no doubt expressed similar sentiments to you herself."  His voice cracked further as he finished his piece, still refusing to even look at her.

In all honesty, Ysayle had expected him to tear into her - to fault her for everything, for not saying anything about her return to health - yet that so much of what he said was placing the blame on himself quelled her frustration somewhat, whilst tempering her anger moreso.  If anything, it just surprised Ysayle.  This didn't at all sound like the same man.  ...The man who berated her for her optimism and idealism.

"I don’t understand,” she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to clear her muddied thoughts - where to even begin processing that.  “You hated me, you made that much very clear - why do you sound like you don’t?”

“Outlandish idea, but mayhap because I don’t?”  Estinien flinched at his own tone, finally letting go of the bottle to keep it from shattering in his grip - running that same hand across his face and brushing aside silver bangs momentarily before they shielded his expression yet again.  “...There’s no excusing what I said or did back then.  I can wish all I want that I’d never said those things to you, but what good will that do?”

“What are you getting at with this?”  Ysayle’s arms crossed over her chest almost defensively, flinching backwards at his shift in tone - it was so alien to hear his voice take that vulnerable quality, it felt wrong.  “We were enemies.  Opposites ideologically and factionally - so why do you seem so broken up over this?”

“Because when you extended an offer of aid, I took it as an opportunity to tear into you.  Because when you did what you could to help us even as it violated your morality and better judgement, I still berated you regardless.  None of what I did was fair nor right, especially as you and Surkukteni grew closer.”

“I killed your countrymen, I worked with the Horde that killed your family - why the change in heart?”

“...Do you truly believe I’m incapable of such a thing?”  A heavy sigh slipped from Estinien, dragging his hand across his face yet again.  “Do you truly believe that I am without regrets for what I’ve done and said and enabled?”

“‘Tis not as if you’ve given me much reason to believe otherwise.”  Ysayle’s arms tightened around her chest, knowing damn well what she said wasn’t entirely true.

“Ysayle.”

Her name said with his voice - something she damn well wasn’t used to - had her freeze in place, watching as he finally turned to face her.  Fitting that one could describe his eyes as stormy, as all she could see in them was a tumult of emotion like the name implied.  And unless her mind was playing tricks on her, she swore they were the slightest bit red.

“I’m sorry,” Estinien began, surprising her with the sincerity in which he spoke.  “I’m sorry for what I did and what I said - for undermining and belittling your beliefs.  I took you for granted, and that’s my fault to bear.  Allies by circumstance or no, how I acted was inappropriate.  I know words mean little, but it ought to be said regardless.”

Mayhap it spoke to how little faith Ysayle had in Estinien from when they knew each other or mayhap just a general lack of faith in her fellow mortals, but an apology was the last thing she’d expected - let alone from him, genuinely taking her by surprise and caught speechless yet again.  She blinked wide eyes at him, trying to keep her jaw from going slack yet finding her ears betrayed her as they perked up and folded flat against her head - the godsdamned things.  It took her far too long to realize he was waiting for her to respond, the quiet that stretched between them an increasingly awkward one.

Ysayle would answer honestly: “I don’t know what to say,” she muttered, a hand falling over her mouth.

“You don’t need to.  Frankly, that you can respond at all is beyond what I ever expected.”  

Right, the dying business.  Ysayle’s lips folded into a thin line as she watched Estinien, trying to see when this facade would crack - this had to be some joke she was being strung along into! - yet...she saw nothing.  One could probably tell the moment she realized his sincerity - how her eyes widened slightly, how her ears drooped down more noticeably - but she at least elucidated this and didn’t stay silent.

“You genuinely mean it,” she muttered, surprise tinging her words.  “Don’t you?”

“I’m a shit liar, so you’d know if I didn’t.”  The bottle was retrieved again, though this time he leaned back against the cabinet as he took another swig from it.  It hung just shy of an ilm from his lips - drawn into a line - as he stared down at it, expression difficult to read.  Only after a moment did he glance back, looking forlorn - guilty, even.  “I don’t wish to excuse my actions.  I’d rather focus on how I can make things right by you.”

“Which, apparently, has been the theme of these four years for you,” Ysayle muttered, almost wishing she were closer so she could steal that bottle for herself.

[bbcphile]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers!

Tagged by @prosopopeya!!!! (thanks for the tag! Also, hi!!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

15, which is actually more than I had thought I’d written.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

200,778

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I have three fics in the works for Mysterious Lotus Casebook, so that’s where I’m spending my time now, but almost all of my AO3 fic is for the Horatio Hornblower miniseries. (I also wrote a very very metafictional Galavant fic for Yuletide.)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Harboured and Encompassed (novel length modern AU with actor!Archie, librarian!Horatio; Archie/Horatio and Horatio/Archie/Will pre-slash)

Nunc Atque Semper (canon-era DKU (dead Kennedy Universe), past Archie/Horatio, Maria/Horatio; Maria finds out just who Archie Kennedy was to Horatio.)

Much Ado about Shakespeare: Love’s Labour’s Won (canon-era Archie/Horatio; Napoleonic era theater kid Archie speaks entirely in Shakespeare quotations and ends up in a relationship instead of being thrown overboard)

Holding Fast (Modern AU, sequel to H&E, Archie/Horatio/Will; Will has a nightmare. Archie and Horatio help.)

The Vital Importance of Doing Research (Modern AU, sequel to H&E, Archie/Horatio/Will; Archie’s trailer is out, so the trio turn to AO3. AKA. a parodic love letter to fanfic and the fandom)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I tried, I really did, but then I fell horribly behind when my health tanked, and I didn’t catch up, and now I’m just embarrassed about how many years it’s been. But I’m going to try to get back to it, so, if any of you are still following me here, thank you for your comments!! This incredibly anxious writer is extremely grateful to you! And I’ll try to figure out how to articulate that sufficiently soon! <3 

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Without a doubt, “Nunc Atque Semper.” I once swore I’d never write a DKU, and I almost never read them because they emotionally destroy me, but 1. I got a really excellent prompt for it, and 2. I was (and still am) so very mad at Horatio for his behavior toward Maria in the final two films, and this fic was my way of exploring his grief, how much he had changed because of it, and also holding him accountable because Maria deserved so much better. It’s one of the fics I’m proudest of, and one of the hardest to write, emotionally, and while by the end, they understand each other better and he will try to treat her better, they’re both still going to be miserable.  (Turning Over the Sands of Time and Taking Hands Against a Sea of Troubles are probably the next angstiest ones, since they both acknowledge that things are Very Much Not Ok, but at least everyone is alive at the time.)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm . . .  I’m not sure how to choose, because a bunch of them have lots of different flavors of happiness. Harboured and Encompassed ends on a loving/comforting/optimistic note (even though there’s still a lot of trauma recovery ahead of Archie), The Best is Yet to Come is sweet/fluffy/romantic, Holding Fast is comforting/snuggly/a little goofy right at the end, The Vital Importance of Doing Research is funny/bubbly/crackfic taken seriously. So, I guess it depends on what your favorite mood is to go with your happiness?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that anyone’s posted in the comments, at least. Before I started posting Harboured and Encompassed, I saw some people hating on modern Hornblower AUs and the people who write them, but none of them proceeded to insult me in the comments of my fics, so if it continued elsewhere, I am blissfully unaware of it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

For fics I’ve published on AO3, the closest I’ve come is in The Vital Importance of Doing Research, when the trio read fic for Archie’s film, and I am still laughing about getting to use the tag “boat porn.” In Harboured and Encompassed, Archie and Horatio make out a number of times but don’t actually have sex (because the fic is about different sorts of intimacy and was in part a response to the magical healing cock trope). I’ve planned sex scenes in the MLC fics I’m currently writing, so, we’ll see. 

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really, but in the incredibly crackfic-y The HMS Afterlife: Loyalty Edition, Zuko from ATLA makes a cameo. :)  

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!! Lt_vanStein started translating Harboured and Encompassed into Russian! I’m still so happy about this!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Lol. So, @fionatlux and I cowrote The HMS Afterlife: Loyalty Edition, which is essentially shitposting in play formatting with the characters as ghosts commenting on the events of the movie as a way of actually making ourselves watch the first film without Archie. It is absurd and ridiculous, and full of snark and Shakespeare quotations and angst and crackfic-y enough that Zuko from ATLA even makes an appearance. 

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Well, Archie/Horatio have been going strong since 1998 for me, so it’s probably hard to beat that. But I also love Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji, and recently my entire brain has been devoured by Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua (although I am also very much here for Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua/Fang Duobing).

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I had a very long sequel planned for Harboured and Encompassed in which the OT3 officially gets together (set between parts 3 and 4 of the series), and had written about 50k of it, but then personal drama related to the fic happened (long story), my health unrelatedly tanked, my life fully exploded, and I was too sick to even think about writing for most of the last 4+ years. Thanks to a successful neurosurgery earlier this year, I’m finally starting to regain some energy for creative pursuits, instead of using it all on staying alive despite the efforts of a broken medical system! But on a good day, I’m still only operating at about 30% of my previous capacity, so right now, I’m writing new stuff for Mysterious Lotus Casebook because that’s what the brain gremlins want (*gasp * what, me, invested in a show about someone whose health tanked and they had to build a new life? And that also has PTSD representation? Hell yes.), and hopefully, eventually, I will be able to finish that sequel, assuming there’s anyone still around by then who wants to read it. But I’m listing it here to take the pressure off myself so I don’t feel like I have to write it, because I’m tired of feeling guilty about it all the time.  

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, interior monologue, altering the writing style to fit the character, character development, representations of trauma/trauma recovery/mental health issues, humor, h/c, writing characters finally learning to communicate

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Describing settings, writing in scene when it could be summary instead, writing action scenes, and having confidence

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

There’s some French in The Vital Importance of Doing Research, but I think that’s it. One issue I’m running into with MLC, though, is that there are times where I absolutely know what I’d want the characters to say in Mandarin, but the English equivalent just doesn’t land in the same way. Ah well. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sherlock. 

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I don’t know how to choose. I think Nunc Atque Semper is maybe the one I’m proudest of because of how hard it was (emotionally) to write. Harboured and Encompassed has my all-time favorite scenes/chapters in it, and I am really proud of the character development overall. I’m also still very very proud of just how many Shakespeare lines I was able to fit into Much Ado about Shakespeare: Love’s Labour’s Won, which probably had more research that went into it than any other fic I’ve written. I think the most underappreciated fic I’ve written is Taking Hands Against a Sea of Troubles–I was really proud of the research that went into it, the imitation of 1800s writing and speech, the significance of the play they see, and the non-verbal communication and comfort at the end–and I’m really surprised that Holding Fast has more kudos.  

If you write fic, consider yourself invited to respond (but no worries if doing this sort of thing stresses you out). I’m specifically tagging some of my newer mutuals, because I really want to get to know you better! (And if I forgot to include you, it's not personal!)

@thesilversun @nutcasewithaknife @shamera @extraordinarilyextreme @slangerogkatter @enbysaurus-rex @willowcatkinblossom @kingsandbastardz @the-wintry-mizzenmast

[aeoki]

SS Finals - Melee: Chapter 16

Location: ES Dome Lobby Characters: Hiyori & Nagisa

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< At that time in the “ES Dome” lobby. >

Hiyori: Was this what you wanted?

Nagisa: …I wonder if it would be horrible of me to ask what you mean, Hiyori-kun.

Hiyori: No. I’m just as horrible, seeing as I’m feeling anxious now and trying to ask you what’s “correct”, Nagisa-kun.

You trust that I can analyse your true intentions. I’m sure that’s what you thought.

Nagisa: …Yeah. I think you can understand what the “oracles” are for.

Hiyori: It’s not just me – I think all of the units that have advanced to the Finals will reach the same conclusion in the end.

Unfortunately, one cannot survive in the idol industry with their charm only. They must also be quick-witted or else they’ll get crushed by someone somewhere.

That’s why I’m sure those who have made it this far will definitely be able to realise that the “oracles” is just a plan that will guarantee our defeat.

Although I don’t think there will be that many people who will realise our intentions after all that hard work we did.

Nagisa: …You used the word “our” just now, but there is no need for you to shoulder this burden.

…I’ll say this as many times as I need to, but this is my own personal problem.

Hiyori: Your problems are naturally mine too.

Nagisa: …I see. That’s exactly why it’s a problem.

…You’ve helped me so much – I don’t want to repay you by hurting you, Hiyori-kun.

Hiyori: I’ll be fine no matter what you do to me. If you decide to stab me with a knife in my sleep, then I’ll just accept it by saying that you had no choice.

But if you won’t allow me to be involved with your problems, then even I’d think that’s cruel. Those feelings will probably follow me for the rest of my life.

Nagisa: …That sounds like something Eichi-kun would say.

Hiyori: Regrettably, we’re similar. Maybe because we were raised in a similar environment? That’s why I’m also sure he’ll reach the same conclusion.

Nagisa: …There’s also Tsumugi-kun in the “Red Team”. The other exceptional idols will likely come together to rise to the occasion.

Hiyori: Yeah. Unlike the “White Team”, the “Red Team” has a weapon in the name of collective wisdom.

Nagisa: …Indeed. They say too many captains will steer the ship up a mountain, but if God will submerge the world with a great flood, then the decision to climb up that mountain needs to be made.

Hiyori: Don’t mention all those religious things. When you do, it sounds like you’re getting further and further away from humanity and it makes me anxious.

Nagisa: …But if I’m to reach the crown of God, I must first become something akin to a god.

…And I think that’s the only thing I can do, as the one who was selected and favoured by Father, someone no different from God.

…If it’s to achieve my wish, then I’ll happily become a god even if I have no one’s support or encouragement.

Hiyori: …………

(Hmm. He always does this but he’s running away by talking about conceptual things elusively.)

(He’d do that like it was second nature to him before, but I have a feeling he’s being calculating and acting like this on purpose right now.)

(Nagisa-kun has grown too. That’s probably why he’s gotten stronger. You no longer know nothing about this world like the first time I met you.)

(But I’m always the big brother who’s a step ahead of you – I know more of this world than you do.)

(I’ll continue watching over you – walking ahead and making sure you don’t stumble.)

(That’s what I decided I’d do the moment I met you.)

(I’ll figure out the true intentions behind your actions, Nagisa-kun.)

(Nagisa-kun was raised without knowing a thing about this world and he’s caused a lot of trouble, but I’m used to finding solutions to them.)

(Nagisa-kun handed out “oracles” to everyone in the “White Team”.)

(They’re there to guarantee defeat.)

(Even if they followed the “oracles” to a T, they’ll most likely lose. And if we continue piling up those losses, it’ll eventually result in the “White Team’s” defeat.)

(You gain nothing if you lose, so all that hard work would have been in vain.)

(Every unit who has made it this far would want to avoid that.)

(They tried so hard only to get nothing in the end. There’s nothing more cruel than that.)

(But most of the surviving ES idols wouldn’t have an interest in the reward money.)

(They’re not idols because they’re after hard cash.)

(They’re shortening their lives and standing on stage because they want to gain something precious – something that’s hard to come by.)

(That might be the love from their fans, the bonds between them and their comrades…)

(To feel alive or a sense of fulfilment, to express themselves, to make the person they hate the most grovel in front of them or simply for politics.)

(Every idol has their own goal and, sure, there are things that could be solved with money but…)

(Money is just a means to achieve those goals.)

(So “winning as a team” shouldn’t be a high priority for them.)

(Most of them shouldn’t mind if they don’t get the reward in the end.)

(That’s why they’d have their eyes set on something other than money – other than a “team victory” – and acting towards that instead.)

(In that case, receiving an “oracle” would be perfect for them.)

(They can do whatever they want to achieve their own goals and then blame it on the “oracle”.)

(If they make a mistake somewhere or lose during one of the performances, they can just use the “oracle” as an excuse for it.)

(If they all get their story straight and get rid of the “oracle”, then they can put the blame on us since we were the ones who gave it to them.)

(All the bad outcomes like failures and defeats can be blamed on “Eden”, their “General Leader”.)

(They can say the boss who came up with the strategy is to blame.)

(If they’re given a cover-up story and a one-in-a-million chance to run away, then the members of the “White Team” will probably do whatever they want.)

(They’ll do whatever they can to achieve their own personal goals.)

(The “White Team” is made up of units who can make the most use of their abilities.)

(They’ll all accept the “oracle” because it’s perfect for them.)

(Everything is proceeding according to the “oracles” given by their “General Leader”, “Eden”...)

(That’s the premise they’ll accept for the time being.)

(They should hate following orders since they were tied down by their “orders” and “secret orders” during the Qualifying Rounds.)

(But even so, they’ll accept the “oracles”.)

(Naturally, there is a higher possibility that they won’t follow what’s written, but they’ll do a good job pretending they are.)

(Because that will work in their favour.)

(Guiding them in our preferred direction while respecting their free will instead of threatening and forcing them like “Gatekeeper”...)

(All to achieve your own goal. If you’re doing that intentionally, then you’re quite the big deal, Nagisa-kun.)

(You’re controlling people’s destiny – just like God.)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[missorchid01]

hello, this is my first story. I hope you guys enjoy it

And Will That Be All?

A harry styles short story

by miss missy

Harry walked rapidly along the crowded sidewalk, not paying attention to any of the people. As he mistakenly bumps into a few, he mutters ‘sorry’, and continued to his stroll. His mind was so focused that he didn’t bother turning around to see if anyone was harmed. He was only thinking about one thing: her. And he knew where she would be.

 Stopping in his tracks he is faced with a familiar building: The Hot Spot. A coffee shop that he frequently goes to--and the place where he would see her. Opening the door, he is greeted with the familiar area: The muffled chatters; the soft music playing; the not so warm yet not so chilly air hitting his body; and the warm lighting luminescing all around the area. The loud streets and busy bodies are left at the front entrance, and Harry is greeted by the content feeling of the place. Still standing by the door, he scans the room. He saw the customers waiting in line, and behind the counter was her. His heartbeat doubled and the fuzzy feeling he felt before entering came back. Not wanting to waste time, he scurried for the line.

 Palms damped with sweat; he brushed them along the side of his jacket. He balanced on his heels and toes as his mind was cluttered with thoughts on how he would talk to her:

“I should play it cool, probably go with something like: ‘So, can I get your number?’” he thought. “Maybe she’ll ask me what else can I get, and I’ll go with ‘how about your number?’ No, that’s lame.” “Or how about: ‘Why don’t I get your number?’ oh god no that’s horrible.”

 He brushed away the ideas and continued to think of more. He was too focused to even know that he was next in line.

“I can help who’s next,”

 The soft velvety voice broke him out of his train of thoughts. He quickly moved to the front and his heartbeat tripled when he saw her, Y/N.

“Welcome to—oh, hi Harry,” her voice going up a pitch as she greeted him. Her face lit up when she saw him, and so did Harry’s. Her smile could bring life into a withered flower; it can clear the sky and bring sunshine upon the earth. Overall, her smile was beautiful, it’s what made Harry so anxious but so eager to see.

“H—Hi Y/N,” he stuttered, trying to calm his nerves. He took a few steps to get closer to the counter.

“Now hold on,” she lifted a finger as if she was going to say something. “You want the chai latte with four pumps of vanilla.”

 Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled, “As many times I’ve been here you constantly get it wrong.”

Giggling back at his response, she says “Well what is it then,”

 “Just a black coffee with four sugars.” he said cheekily.

 “So, the usual?” she asked.

 “Would it be anything else?” he answered back jokingly. Smiling at him she jots down his order. Y/N have known Harry for some time; after all, he has been coming to the coffee shop often. She usually takes his order whenever he visits, so she knows his order like the back of her hand. She knows almost all about Harry: how he talks, what he talks about, and how he acts. She even knows how his nose crinkles when he smiles. She couldn’t fake it, she adored Harry.

   “Hey, have you seen that new episode of Abbott Elementary?” Harry asked.

  “Ugh I didn’t, but don’t spoil anything,” Y/N answered back.

 “Well for a couple of those glazed donuts I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Harry said mischievously.  Y/N laughed at his comedic response; a little bit louder than before.

“Alright so your total comes to—” Y/n was interrupted by the sound of her boss coming from the kitchen.

“I didn’t hire you to butter up to the customers, get back to work!” he told her with a stern voice. His face screwed and shuffled like an unfinished puzzle. He glanced at Harry and turned around to head back into the kitchen. He forcefully pushed the doors behind him. And like that, their conversation was dead as an uncomfortable silence washed over them.

Harry looked at Y/N who was staring at the ordering tablet, trying to look unbothered by the disruption. She couldn’t help but feel humiliated, and seeing Harry ashamed by her was not something she preferred. Y/N being the one to break the silence spoke. She cleared her throat,

“Sorry about my boss, he gets like that when the place isn’t so busy. Wanting to keep us occupied you know?” she finally looks up, but she couldn’t tell how Harry was feeling. His face was blank, as if it was nothing.

“I think he should be worried about that construction work going on his face. It’s like potholes all over his face,” Harry smirked. Y/N chuckled but quickly covered her mouth at his response.

“Something like that should wear a ‘Road Work Ahead’ sign.” Y/N belted out a laugh and then a snort. Her eyes widen realizing the horrific sound she made. She smack her mouth with both hands trying to contain her laugh. Harry, also trying to contain his laughter, was shocked by her sudden outburst. He was in awe by her snort, his body felt fuzzy and his heart was pounding straight out of his chest. ‘How can someone like that make the most enchanting in the universe?’ he thought.  

“Oh gosh that is embarrassing, why would I make that sound?” Y/N faked gagged while palming the side of her face. Y/N’s body temperature rose and so as the flustered feeling.

“No no it’s okay, it’s actually cute,” Harry couldn’t stop himself from saying it; the thought circled around his mind, traveled to his mouth, and came right out of it. Y/N’s heart fluttered by his announcement. To keep her nerves calm—which were working overtime—she continued with finishing his order.

“So that’ll be $8.60 for the drink. And will that be all?” she look back up waiting for his answer. ‘This is the moment Harry,’ he thought. His heart was beating faster than ever. The sweaty hands came back, and the anxiousness came crashing like a wave. ‘Just ask her for her number.’

“Uhm, well, th—there is one more thing,” he finally spoke for what felt like eternity. Y/N waits,

“Does the number come with a drink?” Y/N was puzzled by his answer, she slightly tilted her head to side like a puppy hearing an unusual sound. Harry was in anguish as his face redden. His  body becoming scorching hot and a ringing in his ear appeared, becoming louder by second.

“Well, I—what I meant by that—I wanted your number—your number—yes uhm—I uh—would—like—your num—number—yes, your—did you say $8.60? Here keep the change.” Harry stuttered. he fumbled inside his pocket to pull out a crinkled ten-dollar bill. With shaking hands, he gives the money to Y/N and scurried off to a table that was out of mere sight of her. Harry plopped down with a deep sigh. He covered his face and shook his head in despair. A sharp aching pain arose from his chest. ‘Why would you do that Harry?’ he mutters to himself. Agony overcame his body as time went on; it was beyond repairable by now. He thought about leaving and not coming back. He can find many more coffee shops, ‘But none of them would have her though.’ He stayed in that exact position for what seemed like 5 minutes, with his face covered. He would peep through his fingers to get a glance of her. With every glance she’d either making drinks or taking customers’ orders.

“A black coffee for Harry?” Y/N announced. Harry sprung back up from slouching when he heard her. Anxiety rushed in again, afraid of what will might happen. ‘Would she say anything about it? Would she laugh in my face?’ The bad thoughts swarmed his brain. But he wouldn’t know unless he gets up. And so, he did. Each step getting heavier and heavier, and each heartbeat becoming louder than the previous heartbeat. He’s back at the counter again, ready to face whatever circumstances there is. Y/N hands the cup towards only to real it back in before he can grab it.

“I expect to hear from you soon,” she said with a smile. A flirtatious smile it was. Confused, Harry received the coffee. He looks down at the cup to see his name; but under it was something else:

“212-444-2020 XOXO”

He couldn’t believe it. It was her number. He couldn’t believe it. Anxiety washed away and excitement flourished through. He looked at her one more time, he couldn’t help the silly grin spreading across his face. Y/N heart warmed by his smile.

“I—I will. See ya,” he stuttered. He looked at the cup and her one more time before turning around and walking slowly out of the coffee shop. As he opened the door, the soft mellowly ambience of the store is broken by the loud city. Harry made his way to his next destination, but this time trying not to bump into people. His nerves were running overtime as he tried to not drop the cup. The world was loud as before; filled with the cars rushing to and from work, the pedestrians’ loud chatters. But all of that were considered as white noise. The only thing Harry hears is the sweet tenderness phrase that plagued his mind—but in a good way. “I expect to hear from you soon,”

[spaceacethespookypansfanfics]

It’ll Be Okay

This is a continuation or sequel to “Not Alone” that I was requested to write by @foragemefromthemoss / @sams-shark. It’s kinda rushed it’s a happy ending I think. Enjoy there shouldn’t be anything triggering.

Beeeep.

Beeeeep.

Beeeep.

“Stooop. . . Tur—turn it . . . Turn it off. . .”

Whatever that horribly incessant alarm is ringing for can fuck off. Kevin’s too tired to do anything about it.

He reaches out blindly to smack his phone out of habit. Yank. His hand stops like it’s tied up or something.

“Huh—da hell?” Kevin’s voice is groggy and quiet. His mouth’s dry and the words come out crackly. But it’s enough.

It’s enough to let Streber know he’s awake now.

“Kevin! You’re awake!” The excited and relieved words are not what Kevin was expecting to hear. He looks over to the sound, prying his eyes open with all his might. Sitting in the only available chair is a capeless Streber already halfway to his feet.

It’s strange to see Streber without his cape. He’s always wearing it to complete his silly Halloween aesthetic all year round. He always reminds Kevin of those kids, the three of them just always perpetually dressed up for Halloween.

So to see Streber without it catches Kevin wrong. There’s something small and unfinished about him without it. He looks vulnerable and bare and the more Kevin looks, the more he realises Streber’s shoulders are kinda small. The first thing Kevin really thinks at that is he could probably take Streber in a fight if he’s always been this small.

“S—Stre—. . . Ugh, water please?” Kevin tries to talk but his mouth’s too dry and he coughs before he can finish his thought.

“Right! Right! Hold on. I’ll get it.” Streber seems frazzled. Why? Kevin has no idea. They’re not close friends. Though Kevin supposes if he found even just a stranger hurt like Kevin was, he’d too be concerned.

Streber fully gets to his feet and rushes around looking for water. He’s too nervous that Kevin sees him look past the water cooler twice without taking real notice.

While Streber’s struggling with haste to find the water, Kevin takes in his surroundings.

He’s at the hospital. That explains the noise. Stupid ECG machine beeping like a motherfucker.

His arm’s got an IV? Is that what it is? Kevin waggles his arm and watches the tube wiggle along with it. It’s filled with red stuff. He’s hooked up to a blood bag.

Whoa! He’s hooked up a blood bag?! How much blood did he lose? Was he really going to die?! Is he on death’s door now?! This is it, oh god, I’m dying—I lost too much blood—I’m dead—

Kevin doesn’t realise his heart’s racing until the ECG starts going faster. The noise is like a bomb about to go off.

“Kevin? What’s wrong?” The machine’s beeping alerts Streber to Kevin’s distress. He’s never felt so exposed before. Kevin has half a mind to just take the finger clip off and shut the machine up before everyone in a one mile radius finds out he’s an anxious wreck.

“No—cough—nothing. Fine.” The ECG doesn’t slow down but it doesn’t speed up and Kevin takes that time to do one of the breathing exercises his school therapist told him about in the ninth grade. Even now he’s skeptical at the efficacy of the exercise and feels stupid doing it.

In. . . .

One.

Two.

Three.

Out. . .

Stupid. Feels stupid.

Still the machine does go back to normal soon enough.

“Here.” In the time it takes for Kevin to calm down, Streber’s finally found the water cooler and little stack of paper cups. Kevin doesn’t know when he stationed himself by the hospital bed with the cup held out. Streber might as well be a vampire with how stealthy he is.

“Thanks.” Kevin takes the cup. The water is colder than he was expecting and his fingertips are chilled immediately. He drinks the entire cup, it’s not a lot of water (it’s a small cup) and gives it back to Streber.

Again, when Kevin looks at Streber, he looks off.

“Where’s your cape?”

“Right there.”

Streber points at Kevin. Or more specifically at his lap. Kevin looks down.

Splayed out atop the hospital blanket is Streber’s black and green cape, clearly meaning to be an extra layer. It doesn’t actually add anything it’s so thin, Kevin didn’t even notice it until now. Still something about the gesture tugs at the sentimental strings in Kevin’s heart.

“Oh.” He’s not really sure what to say. He’s never been in a position like this with Streber before. It’s leaving an awkward pit in Kevin’s stomach.

He stares at the cape on his lap because it’s easier than looking at Streber.

“Thanks. Again. I mean. For—for finding me. I—I—heh—I really thought I was—that I was gonna. . . That I was dead . . .” Kevin ignores the ECG picking up. He knows he’s nervous, it doesn’t need to broadcast it to the whole goddamn hospital. He starts fiddling with the finger clip, tapping it against the back of his other hand, feeling the strange new weight of it while he talks.

He’s never been this vulnerable with Streber before. It’s strange and weird and comforting all in one.

“It wasn’t me. Well. I guess it was me, that found you, but I wouldn’t have even known to look if it weren’t for those two kids.” Streber sounds casual but Kevin can hear the awkwardness underneath. Guess Streber feels the same way he does.

Wait. Kids?

“What—what do you mean?” Kevin finally looks at Streber.

“I was walking near the candy shop and these two kids in costumes came running towards me. I don’t think they were paying attention ‘cause one crashed right into me.” Streber chuckles at mention of one of kids bumping into him. “They said you were hurt and needed help. Guess I must’ve been the first adult they saw and recognised so they wanted me to help you.” Streber has this fond look in his eyes.

He must be a kid person. Kevin can’t relate. Rather he wishes he couldn’t relate because if Kevin were to be honest with himself, if anything happened to those two monsters, he’d be crushed. Doesn’t mean he’s forgiven them just yet for this (and everything else they’ve done) but they do have good hearts in the end.

“I’m really glad I listened to them and went looking. Part of me thought they were playing a trick on me. I’m really glad.” The relief in Streber’s voice is surprisingly deep. More so than what Kevin would think is appropriate for their level of intimacy (that of just barely above acquaintances).

Kevin’s eyes sting before he can do anything about it and his throat tightens again, he wishes he didn’t finish that water so quickly. He’s crying before he can stop himself.

It alarms Streber more than Kevin would have thought to see him crying. “Whoa, Kevin! What’s wrong?”

Kevin wipes his eyes with his hand that isn’t hooked up. He’s shaking his head as he talks, “nothing. I—I don’t—I don’t know why—why I’m crying either.” And he really doesn’t.

He just knows now that he’s not actually alone if someone as distant as Streber is to him cares enough to go this far for him, then maybe he’s gonna be okay.

[worlds-most-dangerous-sandwich]

AoS Framework rant yaaaay

(pls remember these are just my opinions :))

I recently rewatched season 4 for the third time, and I think I finally put my finger on what feels so off to me about Fitz’s framework storyline.

Just a warning: I’ll be discussing the concepts of how childhood abuse affects people, though it’s fairly vague.

The framework plays with the concept of nature vs nurture and, frankly, I hate it. The idea that simply being raised by an abuser will by default make you a bad person too is disgusting and harmful.

They were trying to make Fitz a mirror image to Ward: if Ward had only had a good influence, he would have been a good person; if Fitz had a bad one, he would have followed Ward’s dark path.

This is so disrespectful to abuse survivors, and it removes culpability from full grown adults.

We are responsible for our choices. No one else. Sure, the people we meet in our lives have a big effect on us. They can help or hinder us. But at the end of the day, we are responsible for our actions.

Fitz is a good person. He wouldn’t have become the horrible person we see in the framework just because his dad was around. If anything, I think he would have been an even more pronounced version of the Fitz we see in season one; skittish, anxious, and leery of authority.

Ward also chose his own path. Sure, while he was still a child, I can get behind the idea that he was manipulated into doing bad things. But he chose his way after that.

A sense of obligation to Garret? Sure. But even after his mentor was long dead, he still chose to restart Hydra on his own, to get revenge, to continue down a dark path.

The only way I can figure Fitz’s framework storyline in my head, is that Aida must have actively got inside Fitz’s brain and messed with him and his story more than the others. She was obsessed with him, and she lies to him after they come out of the framework (saying that everything she did in the framework was at Radcliffe’s orders, despite a large amount of it being for her own gain).

I have to believe that she altered him somehow. This would also make sense in explaining why he is the only member of the team to later develop the symptoms he did, despite many of them having their head filled with two lives. Fitz was the only one shown to not be able to distinguish the two, which would make sense if Aida had a more direct impact on his brain.

I also find this storyline frustrating because of the discourse it has created in the fandom. That it’s okay to support Ward because the framework proves he’s just a poor little baby who was manipulated.

He is a full grown adult.

Yes, I do feel bad for Ward, I do feel he had a lot of potential and I kind of wish he had gotten a redemption arc. But he didn’t. He made his choices, no one else made them for him. Infantilizing him and blaming all of his actions on Garret is not okay.

ALSO - touching again on the implication that we become bad people if we’re manipulated - this disregards how hard it is to grow up in a horrible home and still come out a compassionate and caring person. So many people have absolutely disgusting parents, and yet grow up to be empathetic, kind, and good people. Suggesting otherwise feels very dismissive and disrespectful to their struggles and trauma.

In the same line of thinking, parents can do everything right and someone can still grow to be cruel and abusive.

BECAUSE WE MAKE OUR OWN CHOICES AND ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR OUR OWN ACTIONS AND- 🫠

In short, Fitz and Ward’s storylines were horribly over-simplified in s4. There is so much nuance there, and to suggest that we are nothing more than a product of our environment is kind of ridiculous offensive, imo.