#tomorrow's gonna be another S/M haul day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celestialmango · 3 years ago

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Reader insert,Unwilling prey, digestion and fatal vore(not you tho, you're safe...kinda) soft vore, safe vore, fallout au, super mutant variant Pred, Pred's a jerk, but a jerk that gets rid of your raider problem.

🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡

You sigh as your toes flex digging into the dirty cracked asphalt of the road, you had set up from your town established around the vault to act as a merchant/messenger and had been doing well... until you ran into some raiders, luckily you managed to bargain your way out with your life, there were too many to take out on your own, you're lucky you still had your hidden gun and ammo, not so lucky they took your armor, your goods and your shoes.

As you continue on your way back to the vault settlement you hear a commotion behind you and feel the ground shake getting increasingly close surprisingly fast, you don't even have time to turn around before you're about nine feet in the air, scooped up by a large greenish arm and sat on a shoulder looking behind to see a large group of super mutants chasing the one hauled you into the air while they ran you don't have much time to think about what's going on before your improvised steed booms at you.

"SHOOT HUMAN" you react instinctively and start shooting the pursuers while the mutant carrying you runs, you're glad you had been training as a sharp shooter before you got frozen because it's coming in handy now as you fire bullet after bullet, reloading when empty at the hostile mutants hitting your mark everytime and crippling them, some loose legs, some lose arms and some you straight up headshot, "HAHAHA ATA HUMAN!" The one carrying you yells.

Your gun clicks empty as you finally run out of bullets but by then there's only two left the one who's shoulder you're riding and the last one chasing them, they skid to a stop and lightly toss you on top of a good 15ft tall rail car that stands to the side of the road having rolled off the nearby track ages ago, you finally get a good look at the mutant while they turn and bullrush the other, their long hair blowing flowing in the wind as they tackle the other to the ground and start brutalizing them with their fists....wait

Don't super mutants eat humans? And since when did a super mutant have hair, shit there's no way for you to get down without injuring yourself and no one around for you to call out to for help, you don't even have the time to think of how to escape before you hear a splattering crack and crunch of bone, you quickly turn back and see the hulking mash of muscle stand with blood dripping off their hands as they turn around and you get a better look at their face that has a splash of red caking it as they approach the train car grinning wildly. You notice even more details that don't make them look like your typical super mutant and honestly they actually kinda look similar to fan art you saw before of people's half orc characters only without the pointy ears and tusks...god you miss DND.

You shouldn't have let yourself get distracted, they're already at the side of the car, they stretch their arms out to you, "Come ere human. _______ ain't gonna kill you" you blanch 'n-no thank you, I'm fine up here.' the super mutant scoffs "bah, human can come to _______ or _______ can tip metal thing over and human can go smack on the ground. Human can choose easy way or painful way."...shit, you really don't have a choice here do you? You scooch over to the edge the super mutant is waiting at and swing your legs over the side.

The super mutant who's name you guess is ______ grasps your waist with both hands and lifts you off the roof of the ancient train car but they don't set you down just yet, you notice they're staring at your feet "where's humans shoes?" You answer them nervously and slightly confused 'o-oh. Um.. well I kinda got robbed by raiders a few miles back.' the mutant looks at your face intently and you sweat nervously "how many?" 'wha?' "How many raiders human" 'oh, there were five. W-why?' _____ grins at you viciously setting you further on edge before they say "human do _____ favor, _____ return it" just like that all your tension leaves you 'ah, so are you going to put me down or?'

_____ sets you back on their shoulder, "human point way, _____ follow" you guess this is just how your day is going to go now, 'ok.' you point out the direction you came from and _____ takes off in a run.

--------

_____ skids to a stop again just 50 ft from the raider camp just as night falls giving them excellent cover, they bend down and set you down in the open back of a brokendown pick-up truck before shutting the trunk, you can clearly see out the back and side windows as the mutant grins at you and cracks their knuckles "_____ be right back." They say before standing up and storming into the camp with a battlecry, you try to open the truck bed but it's jammed, guess you have no choice but to wait for _____ to get back.....you hope they don't die as you hear the gunfire begin.

------

The gunfire finally stops after half an hour, it's about 6 more minutes with you having your face buried in your knees before you hear groaning and loud footsteps, your head snaps up when the back of the truck is torn open and you stare like a deer in headlights, "ur-urp _-____ back...urrgggh" they groan in discomfort one hand on their obscenely large and squirming gut, the other arm reaching in and pulling you out of the truck, you stare in horror as you see hand prints and faces push out from their stomach the sounds of muffled obscenities and screams almost silenced by the loud gurgles as their guts makes quick work of them eventually going still as it starts to shrink.

_____ clicks their fingers in front of your face "oy, human" you snap out of your daze and look them in the eyes, 'ah' "no more raiders." 'uh-huh' is all you can say, you turn to walk towards the now empty camp before a large hand clamps down on your shoulder, "where human think they're going?" You look at them nervously 'i-i was going to search their camp for my stuff they stole from me' they look at you with a wild expression "human not going anywhere." 'wha? But you don't plan to eat me too?' they grin wider "_____ never said that." You squeak in fear before _____'s expression slips, they burst out laughing and let go "HAHAHA human should see humans face!"

Your expression goes flat as you stare at them for their cruel joke blankly before gasping in surprise as they drag you closer by your arm and press your hand to the softening, still shrinking bulge of their gut, "human do ____ another favor and ____ won't kill human" you feel a chill run down your spine and you start rubbing their stomach while you shiver in fear. "Ahhh, that's a good human."

------

It doesn't take long before there's no sign there was ever anyone in _____'s stomach, they grab the back of your shirt and drag you toward their face "time for dessert!" 'BUT YOU SAID-' you squeak out before they interrupt "____ knows what _____ said" then they shove your face into their gaping maw and swallow, groaning in pleasure at your taste and pinning your arms to your sides as they push you in further swallowing again the strong muscles of their throat having no trouble dragging you in further as you shriek and squirm, they tilt their head up hands tight around your legs as they take a deep gulp, you sink in up to your knees, your head pops into their now empty stomach, there's not much left of you outside, you don't see a single trace of the raiders that were previously here and your breath catches in your throat as you freeze.

In a few more gulps your feet are dragged inside out of the cooling night air and you're slow forced to curl up, ____s' gut bulging out once more they settle a hand on their stomach and pick at their teeth with one of their finger nails. A long deep burbling groan sounds from their belly as their stomach starts to gurgle, squeezing and flexing around you, you snap out of your stunned state and start pushing back struggling. 'you-YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T KILL ME' you yell panicking, ___ is nonchalant in their reply "yeah", you cry out distressed and ask your voice close to tears 'WO-won't eating me kill me?' "ppft naw" ____ pats their gut with a grin "dessert probably notice ______ look different, ______ special" 'Wha-What's that mean?' they put both hands on their round stomach and squeeze causing you to squeak in discomfort at how tight it is.

"Mean dessert should shut up and sleep, then dessert become human again in the morning" 'M-My name is (Y/N)! and what do you mean human again?' they scoff not bothering to answer your question in a way you understand, they know they were quite clear the first time, "No, your name dessert and dessert can be (y/n) tomorrow" they say as they rub and press at their stomach while they walk back to the raider camp to set up for the night with you making squeaks of discomfort as they continue to, in their opinion, playfully bully you.

#safe vore #soft vore #v*re #v0re #fatal vore #unwilling prey

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years ago

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the snow isn’t all that cold if you’ve got someone to hold

prompt: freezing (leftover from yesterday, used as kind of an alt prompt)

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hi! this fic is technically for day 1 i guess, but there are a couple days this month where neither prompt is really my thing so in those cases i will be using a prompt from a different day. there will still be 30 days of whump, but not 30 separate pairs of prompts used! anyway this fic is a bit softer and fluffier than my usual stuff but there is still whump! it’s just more gentle i guess lol. that’s just how it happened. i hope you enjoy! (title from heater by little car)

Buck opens the front door of the little cabin and steps aside to let Chris enter first. Chris walks inside, looks around for a split second, and promptly makes a beeline for the bedroom he’d claimed as ‘his’ the second he’d seen it on the website.

“Buck, come see!” he calls excitedly, and Buck smiles to himself and follows Chris inside, glancing briefly back at Eddie, who is struggling up the path with the bags that he’d insisted upon carrying inside himself.

“Look at that lamp!” Chris says, pointing to a bear-shaped lamp sitting atop the bedside table. He turns to Buck, smiling so widely that Buck thinks it must hurt his face. “This is gonna be the coolest weekend ever,” he continues, and Buck nods in agreement.

“What do you wanna do first, Superman?” he asks, and Chris shakes his head.

“Buck, I gotta read my book for that,” he says, very seriously. The front door slams shut, and Chris immediately calls out to Eddie: “Dad! I need my book.”

Eddie comes into the room a second later with Chris’ bag, his beloved Guide to Sequoia National Park sticking out from one of the side pockets.

“Thanks!” Chris says, grabbing the book and sinking down onto the bed. He flips it open and begins studying it intently, paying no mind to the other two people in the room.

Buck and Eddie therefore leave Chris to it and step out into the living room to grab their own bags, which Eddie had evidently simply dropped in the middle of the floor as soon as he’d gotten inside. Buck sets his bag down next to the couch and flops down onto it.

“Buck, are you sure- ” Before Eddie can finish his sentence, Buck interrupts him with a stern glare.

“Eds, I already claimed the couch, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“But- ”

Buck shakes his head, and Eddie, apparently sensing that this is a fight he is not going to win, flings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the cabin’s other bedroom, muttering something about at least flipping a coin for it. Not that Buck would’ve let that happen. He already can’t help feeling a bit like he is overstepping, although both Chris and Eddie had absolutely insisted that he come on this little trip with them, and there’s no way in hell he’s stealing the only other bed in the house from his best friend. So the couch it is.

It’s silent in the cabin for a few minutes, until Chris comes out of his room and sits on the couch next to Buck, guidebook in hand.

“Buck, I can’t decide which thing we should do first,” he says miserably, extending the book. Buck takes it and flips it open, looking through messily highlighted passages and various sticky notes covered in the handwriting of himself and both of the Diazes.

“What about this?” Buck suggests, pointing to a picture of a person standing underneath a tunnel in the roots of a massive tree.

Chris makes a noncommittal sound, so Buck continues looking through the book. Chris leans into his side and looks along with him, occasionally pointing out things he thinks are contenders for their first activity tomorrow.

Eddie startles them both when he comes into the room, and he chuckles softly as they both turn to look at him. “I’m gonna go find some wood so we can have a fire tonight,” he says. “Sunset’s in about an hour and it’s supposed to get pretty chilly.”

Chris nods in agreement and asks if they can make hot chocolate later, to which Buck and Eddie simultaneously reply yes; and Buck jokingly tells Eddie to be careful with the ax (which is about half the size of the one they regularly use in the field), and then Eddie heads out into the forest and Chris and Buck return to their very important activity of scouring the guidebook.

About twenty minutes pass pleasantly, with Buck and Chris slowly figuring out their plan of attack for the two days ahead. Then Chris looks up from the book and gasps.

“Buck! Look, it’s snowing!”

Buck turns to look out the window, and sure enough, snow is pouring down from the sky. “That’s weird,” he says, half to himself. “It wasn’t supposed to snow this weekend.”

Chris suddenly looks very concerned. “Will we still be able to go and see the trees?”

“I think so,” Buck says reassuringly. He can’t imagine that this snow is going to last very long. He’d done a lot of research into the weather up here in the past couple weeks, and it’s really not supposed to snow this early into November. He figures that this snow will probably melt by midday tomorrow, which should still let them do everything that they’re planning on doing.

“Good,” Chris says, and then he gets up and looks out the window, leaning against the pane, breath fogging up the glass. Buck wonders if he’s ever seen snow before, and he’s about to ask whether Chris would like to go outside and see it when he thinks of Eddie, and decides to shoot him a quick text to see whether he’s almost done with gathering wood.

Eddie’s phone dings on the kitchen counter, and Buck sighs. He looks back out the window, where the snow is beginning to fall harder. It’s already a couple inches deep, he can tell, and Eddie hadn’t been wearing a coat when he’d gone out. He gives Eddie two minutes, in case he’s on his way back, and then starts putting on his own coat and the snow boots that he’d brought, just in case.

“Are you going to get Daddy?” Chris asks, moving to stand next to Buck. He sounds a little worried, and Buck puts a soft hand atop his hair.

“Yep, and then we can spend all evening with a nice, warm fire and some hot cocoa and maybe even a movie,” Buck says, zipping up his jacket. “In the meantime, why don’t you keep looking through your book and see if there’s anything we can do that’s inside.”

Chris nods and makes his way back to the couch, and Buck steps outside onto the front porch.

It’s cold. Really cold. Buck tries not to think about all of the many terrible things that could’ve happened to Eddie in the twenty minutes that he’s been gone as he makes his way out into the snow, calling out Eddie’s name.

He walks for maybe ten minutes, slowly circling outwards from the front door of the cabin, continually calling for Eddie. The sun is starting to set, and the snow is falling faster still, and he is really trying not to panic now. He’s about to get out his phone and call 911 when he hears a voice, faint but unmistakably Eddie’s.

“Hold on, Eddie, I’m coming!” he shouts, and hurries off in the direction of Eddie’s voice as fast as he can.

He skids to a stop in front of Eddie, barely managing to stay on his feet as he hits an especially slippery patch of snow. “You okay?” he asks, even though Eddie is clearly freezing his ass off and definitely not okay.

“Slipped,” Eddie says, through chattering teeth. “Not hurt, don’t think, but it was too slippery. Couldn’t get back up.”

Buck can see how that might’ve happened. “I almost slipped too,” he says. “Lucky I didn’t, or we’d both be stuck out here.”

Eddie gives a soft laugh, then sucks in a sharp breath. “‘M really cold, Buck,” he says.

“I know,” Buck replies, carefully bending over and grabbing Eddie underneath his arms. “We’re gonna get you back to the cabin and warm you up as soon as we can, I promise.” He hauls Eddie to his feet, keeping an arm firmly wrapped around him to stop him from slipping again. This close together, he can hear Eddie’s teeth chattering, can feel the coldness of his skin and his clothes. Buck unzips his jacket and maneuvers his way out of it without letting go of Eddie, then tugs the jacket securely around Eddie’s shoulders, guiding his shaking arms into the sleeves and zipping it up.

“‘S nice,” Eddie whispers, leaning a little more heavily into Buck.

“I bet,” Buck says, sympathetically. “But try not to lean on me too much, okay? The last thing we need is to both end up on our asses in the snow.”

Eddie nods and pulls away slightly, and then the two begin a very slow, very careful trek back to the cabin.

Halfway there, the sun dips completely below the horizon, and the temperature feels like it drops another ten degrees. Eddie starts shivering harder, despite Buck’s jacket, and Buck throws caution to the wind and pulls Eddie closer, taking smaller steps and shining his phone’s flashlight onto the ground ahead of them.

“Is Chris okay?” Eddie asks, suddenly, stopping in his tracks and nearly causing the both of them to fall.

“He’s okay,” Buck says, gently pulling him along. “He’s looking through his guidebook and finding some things to do indoors tomorrow, if this snow doesn’t let up.”

This answer seems to satisfy Eddie, who lapses into silence as they walk along through the snow.

“Look, there’s the cabin,” Buck says, gesturing to its lights glowing through the darkness, even though he knows Eddie can’t see his hand. “We’re almost there.”

Eddie only hums in response, and Buck tugs him along a little faster, very anxious to get him inside and warmed up before this cold does any real damage.

A minute later, they’re stumbling through the front door, dripping melting snow onto the floor. Chris hurries up from the couch, guidebook tumbling to the floor. “Dad!”

Eddie turns to look at Chris, and Buck can see him trying to act okay for his son, but he’s shaking so hard that Buck doubts Chris is buying it for a second.

“Is he okay?” Chris asks Buck, and Buck so desperately wants to wrap him in a hug and tell him that yes, Eddie’s going to be okay, but that would mean letting go of Eddie, which is not an option at the moment, so he settles for a nod instead. “Your dad’s going to be just fine,” he promises. “But he’s really cold right now, so I need to go and get him warmed up. And you know what he’s going to need most of all?”

Chris shakes his head.

“He’s going to need to curl up on the couch with you and me and some hot chocolate and a movie. So, while we’re gone, we need you to pick out a good movie to watch, okay?”

Chris nods and adds, “I think maybe we need some blankets, too. Should I find some?”

“Yeah, buddy, that would be perfect,” Buck says, smiling. Chris smiles back, then steels his face into a look of pure determination and sets about on his very important task of finding blankets and picking a movie.

Meanwhile, Buck leads Eddie into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He starts it off at a lukewarm temperature, not wanting to shock Eddie’s system by forcing him under hot water immediately. While the water warms up, he helps Eddie out of his freezing clothes and tries not to think about how much worse their situation could be right now if he hadn’t found Eddie when he did.

Once the shower heats up, Buck opens the door and Eddie steps inside, flinching back as the warm water hits his freezing-cold skin.

“Is it too hot?” Buck asks, but Eddie shakes his head. “Nice,” he says.

“Once you feel like you’re used to that temperature, you can start warming it up in small increments,” Buck directs. “In the meantime, I’m going to get you some warm clothes and a towel, but you just yell if you need me, okay?”

“Kay,” Eddie agrees, and with that, Buck heads out of the bathroom.

He takes a quick glance into the living room, where Chris sits on the couch, surrounded by at least five blankets. He’s flicking through movies on the TV with intense concentration, and Buck smiles at the back of his head. God, he loves this kid.

He then gets back to his task and heads into Eddie’s room, where he locates Eddie’s bag and digs out his pajamas, which consist of a threadbare white t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants. He’s got a sweatshirt at the bottom of the bag, but Buck decides to go back out into the living room and grab one of his own sweatshirts instead. It’ll be bigger and hopefully cozier than Eddie’s own (not to mention the fact that he’s been wanting to give Eddie one of his sweatshirts for...too long).

“How is he?” Chris asks, while Buck is digging through his bag.

“He’s taking a nice warm shower right now,” Buck says, tugging his sweatshirt free of his other clothes. “Then we’ll come and join you out here with -” he looks up at the TV, where Chris has chosen the movie Frozen. He laughs out loud, and Chris giggles. “With Frozen, and I’ll make us some hot cocoa, and we’ll get nice and warmed up.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees. Buck makes his way back to the bathroom with the clothes in hand, stopping along the way to grab a towel from the linen closet. He throws all of the items into the cabin’s little dryer and lets them spin for a few minutes, during which time he checks up on Eddie, who seems to be shivering considerably less under the now-steaming water.

When the clothes and towel are nicely warmed up, Buck brings them back into the bathroom. “You might wanna get out now before these all cool down again,” he suggests, and Eddie reaches up to turn off the water. His hand trembles a little, but for the most part he looks quite a bit steadier, and Buck breathes a sigh of relief. Eddie’s really going to be fine.

He gives Eddie some privacy to dry off, and a few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom, hair still wet, the sleeves of Buck’s sweatshirt covering his hands, which hold onto the damp towel. Buck takes it from him and uses it to dry off Eddie’s hair a bit better than Eddie had managed to do. It sticks up from his head when he’s done, and makes him look way cuter than Buck thinks he has any right to. He quickly squashes down that thought and hangs the towel up in the bathroom, then tells Eddie to go sit down on the couch while he makes some hot chocolate.

Buck watches Eddie walk slowly out to the living room, and hears him laugh softly at Chris’ choice of movie. He smiles to himself, wonders briefly how in the hell he had gotten so lucky as to have these two wonderful people in his life, then gets busy making some hot chocolate. While he stirs the milk in the pan, he thinks about what they’re going to do if their activities end up being impossible due to the snow. He knows Chris might complain for a moment, then accept whatever fate they’re handed, but they had spent a lot of time planning this trip, and Chris had been so excited to come and see the trees he’d learned so much about in school, and he can’t let the kid miss out on that. Privately, he resolves to bring the Diazes back to the park in the summer, when they can be assured it’s not going to snow.

Buck finishes up the hot chocolate and distributes it across three large mugs, which he balances precariously in his arms as he makes his way into the living room. He sets the steaming mugs carefully onto the coffee table, pulling it closer to the couch so that Chris can easily reach it, then sits down on the couch with Chris and Eddie. Chris is curled into Eddie's left side, a large blanket covering them both. Eddie’s still shivering a bit, but there’s a tinge of pink returning to his face, and he turns and smiles at Buck when he sits down on Eddie’s other side.

“How you feeling?” Buck asks softly, as Chris presses play on the remote.

“Better,” Eddie whispers back, reaching out and grabbing one of the mugs. He wraps his hands around it, and Buck wraps his left arm around Eddie’s shoulders, tugging him closer in the process and letting his hand rest on Chris’ shoulder.

They watch the movie in comfortable silence, and by the time it’s halfway through, Chris is almost asleep and Eddie is no longer shivering. After another fifteen minutes, Chris is solidly asleep, leaning against the side of the couch, and Eddie’s head has dropped down to rest on Buck’s shoulder.

I really don’t wanna do this, Buck thinks, but he also doesn’t want Chris and Eddie to sleep all bunched up and uncomfortable on the couch, so he gently pushes on Eddie until he sits up, blinking around confusedly for a second until his eyes land on Buck.

“Sorry,” Buck whispers. “Couldn’t let you fall asleep out here.”

Eddie nods, resting his head against the couch cushion instead, and Buck stands up, circling around the couch. He carefully picks up Chris, trying his best not to wake him, then carries him to his room and tucks him into bed. He presses a quick kiss to Chris’ forehead, then gently closes the door and returns to Eddie.

Who is again half-asleep. “C’mon Eds, let’s get you to bed,” Buck says, grabbing Eddie’s hands and pulling him to his feet. Eddie leans forward, pressing his head into Buck’s shoulder and making an mmph sound.

“It’s not that far,” Buck promises, and Eddie reluctantly starts walking. Buck follows behind him, arms full of several of the blankets from the couch.

Once they arrive in the bedroom, Eddie immediately flops down onto the bed, not even bothering to crawl under the blankets. Buck sighs and untucks them, pulling them out from underneath Eddie and then draping them over his already-nearly-asleep form. He piles on several more blankets, until Eddie is fairly buried in them. That done, he turns to leave.

“Buck.”

“Yeah?” Buck turns around in the doorway.

“Stay.”

Buck doesn’t even pretend to try and fight. Instead, he simply crawls into the bed beside Eddie. His skin is still slightly colder than it should be, and Buck tells himself that this is the only reason why he pulls Eddie in closer to his chest, tucking Eddie’s head beneath his chin. They fit together like that easily, and Eddie sighs contentedly, tugging one of the blankets completely off of Buck and pulling it closer to himself as his breathing slows and deepens.

Buck is all of a sudden very glad that it’s dark and Eddie is turned away from him, so there is no chance of him seeing the ridiculously fond grin that spreads across his face. I think maybe this is what it’s supposed to be like, Buck thinks, and then he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him, too.

thanks for reading this! i hope you liked it :)

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump2 #i guess. tho techincally the prompt is from day 1 #911 #eddie diaz #freezing #cold #cared for #my writing #i say things #this is soft and gay but so am i!#hope there aren't too many errors but i am tired so this is it.

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turning-the-kaleidoscope · 5 years ago

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YOU’RE BOTH ABSOLUTELY RIGHT

(please excuse the somewhat unpolished writing, still recovering haha <3 thanks for the prompts!! this was so therapeutic to write Teru deserves all the comfort and happiness in the world)

~*~*~*~*~

Teru doesn't get sick often, but when he does, he goes down hard.

He goes down and stays down for several days, running a fever, wracked with chills and nightmares and fevered dreams that leave him feeling like he'd never slept at all. He goes down and deals with it on his own. He's had to deal with it on his own for so long now that it's basically second nature.

But this time is different. This time he's sick, and his fever leaves him exhausted and delirious and weak, and he can't sleep for more than a few moments without being woken again, coughing and hacking like there's no tomorrow. Each fit brings up the pounding in his skull, and despite his best efforts, he's left with tears in his eyes every time, tired and frustrated and feverish and sick and so, so alone.

It's two in the morning, he's just finished coughing up a lung and is curled into a fetal position on his side, blankets sprawled and tangled around his legs and an empty box of cold plasters nearby. His phone, held shakily between trembling hands, illuminates the futon and all the half-empty water bottles he's tried forcing himself through, all the tissues that miss the trashcan, all the sweat that sticks his clothes to his skin like hot glue.

Tears burn behind his eyes again and he barely manages to force them back this time, thumb hovering over the Call button. He wants to. He really wants to. He's sick and alone and he feels awful, he feels so tired and frustrated and hurt and he just needs someone.

And he told him to call, if he needed someone.

Teru hits the call button and presses the phone against his burning ear, trying to steady his breathing. His lungs rattle and crackle and he almost launches into another coughing fit. The phone is cool against the side of his face.

One ring. Two. Three.

"Hn, yeah?"

"R-Reigen?" He could cry in relief. He's too overwhelmed to feel guilty. "R-Reigen, I—I-I—"

"Hey, what's up?" Reigen sounds more awake now, concerned, even. "You good? Is something wrong?”

"I—" And then it happens, there's a hitch in his chest that climbs into his throat and then he's coughing again, hacking and choking so hard he sees stars. He tries clamping his hand over his mouth to stifle it; Reigen is shouting for him on the other end of the phone, and Teru can’t even hear it through the horrid ring in his ears and the burn in his skull. He can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey! Teruki!”

He can’t answer at first, not even when the coughing has stopped. His chest is full and tight and his lungs are desperate, heaving and trying to replenish themselves. He holds his breath, swallows back another round of coughing, and presses the phone against his ear.

“S-Sorry—” His voice is awful, much worse than before, it crackles all over the place and he wants to cry again. “I-I—I think I’m—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. I’m gonna come get you, okay? Where are you?”

He’s going to cry, he’s going to cry— “M-My apartment.”

“Okay—” There’s rustling on the other end of the line. A door opens and shuts. “I’ll be there in a second, okay? Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

He… doesn’t know. That’s a good question.

“Nevermind, I will.” Oh. Okay. “You laying down?”

“Y—” He has to stop and choke back a coughing fit before it starts. He doesn’t have the energy. “Y-Yes.”

“Good, good.”

Reigen asks him a few more questions, stuff that Teru doesn’t really answer completely or coherently—actually, he barely hears the questions half the time. Reigen doesn’t seem to care. The questions aren’t important. It’s just nice to hear his voice.

“Kid, you need to unlock the door for me.”

“Wha—” Teru blinks himself awake, holds his chest when it rattles. “You’re h—Y-You’re here already?”

“Yeah, took a taxi. But I need you to unlock the door.”

It takes a second longer than it should for him to recognize the command, and with a gentle, weak flick of his aura, the locks slide back, and the door swings open.

The receiving end of the phone clicks, but he can’t bring himself to let it go or lower it. Footsteps draw closer; there’s a rustle of plastic; and when a hand settles over his and tugs the phone from his grip, he cracks open his eyes.

“Hey,” Reigen says, setting the phone down on the nightstand, beside a plastic pharmacy bag that definitely hadn’t been there before. He sits down on the edge of the futon beside him, palm pressed to his forehead, and Teru is still reeling with he’s here, he actually came. He’s reeling so much that he forgets to respond.

“H-Hey yourself,” he croaks.

“Damn, you sound pretty rough.” Reigen’s hand against his head is the first relief he’s had in days, and it takes everything he has not to close his eyes and fall asleep. “Have you taken anything for it?”

Teru blinks tiredly. “T… Taken anything?”

“Medicine.”

“Oh.” Teru thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “I-I don’t… have a lot, here, and I didn’t want to—” There’s a tickle in his throat, and he barely swallows it back. “G-Go down to the—pharmacy—”

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha.” Reigen withdraws his hand, and Teru misses it. “I grabbed some stuff on my way over here, but you should probably eat with it… how’s your stomach?”

“F-Fine.” The tickle is back. He prays it doesn’t mean what he thinks it means. “I-It’s just the—th-the coughing.”

“Mm, gotcha. Think you can manage some soup?”

“Soup…” He thinks about it, but doesn’t have to for very long. “Th-That sounds great. Thank you.”

Reigen smiles and pulls his sweaty hair back out of his face (he’s growing it out again—it’s about the length of his shoulders), and then he’s on his feet again, and Teru finally lets his eyes drift shut.

He listens to Reigen bustling about in the kitchen for some time, struggling to make his way around and find where he keeps the pots and pans, and Teru considers hollering out to him but fears the crackle in his chest. Another word and he’ll be launched right into another coughing fit and he doesn’t have the strength to deal with that right now.

He hears a clatter, followed by a sharp swear, and he can’t help but crack a smile. He still can’t believe Reigen actually came. It’s not that he thought he wouldn’t or anything like that; but it still surprised him. Just how willing he was.

Reigen is… kind.

Teru hasn’t known many genuinely kind adults.

It comes on him suddenly, and he can’t stop it in time; a hitch rattles his chest and he’s vaulted into another coughing spasm, clutching his chest with one hand and his mouth with the other. His throat bruns, his head pounds, he can’t catch his breath and it hurts, he doesn’t know how many times this has happened tonight but he hasn’t been able to sleep, he hasn’t been able to even rest, and it’s taking more out of him than he has left and he can’t—

“C’mon, sit up, sit up—”

Reigen is back, hand on his forearm, hauling him upright. And Teru complies without really wanting to or meaning to, still coughing into his hand and feeling vulnerably small. Reigen’s hand goes between rubbing and patting against his back and slowly but surely, the fit begins to ebb, and he can breathe.

“Hell, that sounds bad.” Teru can’t answer, too focused on breathing. Reigen’s hand is a steadying weight against his back, and he doesn’t move. “How long have you been sick like this?”

“F-Few… few days—” He coughs, twice, and Reigen rubs circles into his back. “I-I don’t know.”

Reigen takes a measured breath, and Teru barely resists the urge to lean into him. Sitting up is taxing, and his already light head feels even lighter.

Reigen takes him by the arm again to steady him and reaches around, grabbing askew pillows and setting them on top of each other with his free hand. Teru watches, blearily, and it’s only now that he notices what Reigen is wearing. T-shirt, sweatpants. He hadn’t even gotten dressed before coming over.

The guilt is settling in, now. He’s a mess, he’s a gross, pathetic mess and it isn’t Reigen’s job to clean him up. He wants to cry again. He blames the tears in his eyes on the coughing fit.

“Here, sit back.” Reigen tugs him promptingly, and has him lean against the pillows he’s stacked. “Lying flat isn’t going to help you breathe,” he explains, and feels Teru’s forehead one more time before pulling a thin blanket over him. He’s already hot and sweating like it’s the middle of summer, but he doesn’t have it in him to kick it off. “Hang tight for a second, alright?” Reigen pulls his hair out of his face again, tucking it behind his ear. “Soup’s almost done. Gimme a shout if you need me—or, cough, if that’s easier.”

Teru nods, and Reigen leaves again.

He breathes through his mouth cautiously, wary of impending coughing spasms, but it’s a lot easier to breathe when he’s sitting up like this. He doesn’t feel like he’ll be hacking up another lung in the next couple seconds, either. That’s nice.

And Reigen returns shortly after with a bowl of soup, and Teru sips on it while Reigen examines the medicine bottles with the light of his phone. Teru doesn’t make it through the entire bowl, and Reigen says it’s fine, that anything he can eat is better than nothing. Reigen gives him the proper dosage of medicine and he takes it. His taste buds are so out of sorts from the fever that it doesn’t really taste like anything, but Reigen still hands him a water bottle with which to chase it down, and he does.

There… isn’t really a lot to be done, after that. Now that he’s been able to breathe for some time, he’s eaten, taken medicine, he isn’t alone, he feels oddly content. Which doesn’t make sense really, not at all, but he does.

He thanks Reigen for it. For coming over. He sees Reigen’s smile, feels his hand in his hair, and is fast asleep before he can hear a response.

~*~*~*~*~

Truth be told, Reigen doesn’t know what he’s doing.

It’s not that he’s never looked after a sick kid before. He’s looked after Shigeo once or twice when he came into the office with a fever (usually he didn’t even realize it until Reigen pointed it out). It’s normal. He’s dealt with it before and he’ll deal with it again.

But with Teruki, there isn’t a home to walk him to. There aren’t parents he can contact and tell them their kid is sick. Teruki doesn’t have anyone like that to take care of him.

At least, he didn’t. He does now.

Reigen sits on the futon, leaning against the wall with Teru curled close against his side, fever lesser but still present. He hasn’t had another serious coughing fit--at least, not one that pulled him out of his sleep. And that’s good. With the state he’s in, he needs all the rest he can get.

Reigen’s legs fell asleep beneath him hours ago, and they tingle and prickle, but he doesn’t move. He’s more than happy to be here, more than happy to look after Teru when no one else will. Because no one else will.

Reigen has never been a parent, and he can’t see himself becoming one, but he’d be damned before he let Teru go.

#sickfic #dadreigen #prompt fill #reigen arataka #hanazawa teruki #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #fanfic #cloud writes #is this out of character? who knows #I don't #but thanks for the prompt(s) aaaaaa!!#this was super nice to write #therapeutic #teru deserves a DAD #and Reigen is more than happy to fill those shoes

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Three: Generosity ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina, gun ] [ Verse: Oil and Blood ] [ AO3 Link ]

Pale eyes flickering in their sockets, Hinata looks around and around the three men currently in the back of the van she’s been tossed into, heart fluttering in her chest.

Oh, what a mess she’s found herself in, now.

Her current situation could be blamed on one decision she made about two weeks ago, when - during a walk to clear her head one sleepless night - she stumbled upon a beaten, mod-stripped man in an alleyway. That man turned out to be a member of one of her city’s yakuza, the Uchiha, given name Sasuke. After taking him to an underground doctor she knew - one she’s dealt with before while trying to help patients scorned by the insurance company she works for - Hinata found herself saddled with a debt. One from the Uchiha, who claimed her good deed was enough to earn her a favor. And he’s been rather insistent that he pay it.

This morning, she thought she’d found a way to kill two birds with one stone: she’d do a good deed, and get Sasuke’s connection to her severed, as it’s rarely a good idea to be wrapped up with someone in one of the city’s syndicates. A patient needed help from her doctor contact, and Hinata ‘hired’ Sasuke to escort them. Simple enough.

But their journey was interrupted by several men of a rival faction, the Senju, who claimed they knew Hinata was involved with their foes. After a skirmish and an attempt to run, she’s been scooped up into a vehicle and headed goodness knows where.

She doesn’t even know if anyone else is alive: Sasuke, the patient, the doctor...all she knows is that she’s hardly about to escape this on her own...and any one of them being left living might be her only hope.

Ten minutes pass in a tense silence. The three Senju stare at her warily, while Hinata stares back in barely-constrained panic. Well...at least they don’t seem intent on hurting her yet - because they have more than enough time to do so during their little drive. But eventually the driver taps the window between him and the rear of the vehicle.

“All right, we’re here,” one mutters. “Get up.”

Knees disobeying, it takes Hinata a moment to oblige, eventually being hauled up by an arm and crying out in a combination of pain and fear. Led from the car, she finds herself in what looks like one of the old warehouses by the docks. Old, rusted shipping containers make a maze through which she’s dragged until reaching a sort of headquarters.

There’s floodlights atop containers, blaring down on the ‘room’ formed by the steel. Computers, monitors, mod stations...if you could want it as part of a modded yakuza, they have it. Looking over the collection with wide eyes, Hinata finds herself sat rather roughly into a chair.

“Stay,” her companion orders, earning a small flinch with the single, curt syllable.

Across the floor he moves to approach a man with his back turned, waiting his conversation out before speaking. Said man listens before turning to Hinata.

...this is a big fish, isn’t it?

Arms folded, the new face approaches her nonchalantly, ruddy eyes looking her over. He looks a bit on the old side...but one can tell from his body language he’s not to be trifled with. Likely fairly high up. “So...rumor has it you’ve been aiding a certain person I’m not very fond of, young lady…”

“Please, I...I didn’t -”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he cuts in. “I don’t care for your excuses. My point is...that you’ve kept a particular thorn in my side alive when he was, in fact, slated to die. Of course...part of the blame lies on my underlings who didn’t properly finish the job...but they’ve already been dealt with. So that just leaves...you. Well...you and one other, but she’ll be here shortly.”

Hinata’s heart sinks. Does he mean the doc…?

“What I want to know from you is simple: how deep are you in with the Uchiha?”

“I...n-not at all! I found Sasuke-san by accident, w-while out on a walk.”

“And yet you knew exactly where to take him…”

“That’s...t-that’s because I do business with the doctor. I...I work at an insurance company, i-in the claims department. When clients get denied, if they need help badly enough, I give them her information so that they can get the help they need. I...I really had no idea she had anything to do with the Uchiha. And until I found Sasuke-san, I’d never seen one before in my life, I-I swear…!”

His eyes squint, seeming to weigh her words. “...well, we’ll see what your friend has to say...maybe she’ll corroborate your story. If not, I’ll just have to try a bit more convincing to get the truth out of you…”

Distantly, Hinata hears a rollup door rattle.

“Ah, seems she’s here...I wager she put up more of a fight than you. She, after all, has been on my list for quite some time…”

Hinata’s breath shortens. Maybe those bringing her in will have news about Sasuke…? If he’s still alive...he’s likely their only chance.

Eventually, sounds of scuffling footsteps reach her, and she turns to see the medic struggling against her captor before being shoved into another chair nearby. Unlike Hinata, her hands are bound to the seat’s arms as the elder yakuza approaches her. Already a few superficial wounds mar her skin...likely retaliation for her stubbornness.

“Well well well...look who I’ve finally gotten my hands on...it’s been a while, dragon,” he taunts.

“Tobirama,” she growls in reply.

“Save your venom, woman. You know I’m immune. Besides, for the moment, I want words out of you, not screams of pain.” Gripping her jaw, he forces her to look to Hinata. “I want you to tell me who she is, and what she knows.”

“Nothing. She’s a bystander - brings me clients from an insurance firm. She’s not affiliated with anyone.”

“Actually, I beg to differ. Boss...check this out.” An underling waves Tobirama over, who releases the doctor and moves to a monitor. “You’ll never guess who she is.”

Tobirama bends down to examine the screen...and then gives a soft huff of a laugh. “...Hyūga Hinata...well, I’d never have guessed. You’re that daughter of the mod mogul, Hiashi...how quaint.”

Unsure of what that means to him exactly, Hinata watches carefully.

“I don’t suppose you and your father are on good terms, are you? Because if you are...I wouldn’t mind arranging a little trade for your safety, hm? I have a few mods that could stand an upgrade…”

Oh gods...how is she supposed to explain she’s been disowned and therefore useless? If she does...is he going to kill her?

“Well...for now, I’ve got something else to occupy my time,” Tobirama offers in the wake of her silence. Turning to observe the healer, he muses, “I imagine this one has quite a bit of information I’d find useful...but I think we’ll have to have a little different type of a chat before she’ll open up to m-”

The next few seconds seem to happen in a disjointed blur.

From all angles, out from between and behind shipping containers, figures leap and discharge EMPs into several Senju lackies, their mods going dark as the pulses shut down the signals. Lights cut and leave them in the dark save for the glow of active mods. A few gunshots ring out, Hinata instinctively ducking to the floor. But then reason kicks in, and she makes her way to the doc’s chair. Barely letting her palm light shine, she finds the buckles of her restraints. “C-come on!”

“We just need to get to cover - seems Sasuke called in some backup.”

Together, the two women find a place wedged between crates, the elder shoving Hinata behind her to better keep her safe. All the while, only sounds can really be gleaned as the yakuza fight in the dark.

Within a matter of minutes...it’s silent.

Even so, they remain in place until a light beam finds them, the doctor instinctively moving to cover Hinata further.

“Oh thank the gods,” the man mutters, offering a hand that the healer accepts. “Are you all right?”

“Nothing a little patching won’t fix...anyone else hurt?”

“We’ll need time to regroup, but I doubt it. We had the jump.”

“Sasuke?”

“He tailed you and called me. I’m surprised Tobirama was this sloppy...surely he should have known we’d follow.”

“Maybe he thought he’d actually kill Sasuke this time around.”

“Um...I hate to i-interrupt, but…” Hinata steps forward. “What about Ito-san?”

“I left him in my bike and set the autopilot to a friend of mine,” the doc replies. “Hopefully he made it and is in good hands. Once I know, I’ll relay the news to you. For now...I better get back, and patch up myself and anyone else who needs it. Hinata...you’d best head home. Have an Uchiha escort you, just in case. Call in sick tomorrow, and...we’ll figure something out to keep you safe. I’ll provide a note if you need it - just call.”

“Thank you…”

The medic’s expression turns somber with sympathy. “I’m so sorry...I never thought things would turn out like this...are you gonna be all right?”

“I...I’m a little shaken, but...I’m okay.”

“I’ll have someone accompany you home,” the Uchiha then offers. “You saved my brother’s life...I owe you a great debt.”

“That kind of debt is what got her into this mess in the first place,” the doctor mutters. “Save it for later, will you? Come on...let’s tally the wounded.”

Left to wait, Hinata idles for a moment before jumping as a light blooms beside her.

“...Sasuke-san!”

Looking to her with mismatched eyes, his face is unreadable, offering no reply.

“...are...a-are you all right?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“...I -?”

“This isn’t how I meant to repay your generosity,” he mutters. “This was my fault.”

“But -?”

“No buts. I put your at risk because I wasn’t thinking. Now I owe you a lot more than I did. But at least we got a good hit against the Senju today...I’m just sorry it came at your and the doc’s expense. Are you hurt…?”

“No...just a little s-shaken up. I’m okay.”

“...I’ll take you home. And keep an eye on things for a while. It’s the least I can do, especially since Tobirama’s gonna be boiling after his losses today. But it was the only way to get you two out. Itachi’d have my neck if anything happened to the doc, and…” He seems to hesitate. “...well, I already owe you enough. C’mon.”

A bit unsure at his hesitation, Hinata nonetheless makes to follow, sheepishly getting astride a hoverbike behind him as he takes one left behind by the Senju. She gives directions as he asks for them, and eventually they pull up to her building. It’s only then she thinks to look to her watch. It’s after seven, and it’s then she realizes she also skipped lunch today to arrange Ito’s details...no wonder she’s so shaky atop everything else.

“I’ll hang around and keep an eye on things,” Sasuke then offers, interrupting her train of thought. “No one’s getting to you unless they go through me first.”

“...thank you…”

“Don’t thank me - you wouldn’t need this if not for me.”

“Well...a less honorable person would just leave me to my fate...you’re a g-good one for continuing to help me,” Hinata insists quietly. “...are you…? Do you need something to eat? I’m...well, I’m starving, so…”

“I’ll find something.”

“...but -?”

“You just get into your apartment and stay there,” Sasuke rebukes, cutting her off. “I’ll figure something out, but I don’t need you coming back down here unnecessarily.”

“...o-okay.”

“Besides, I still have your caller ID. I can let you know that way if anything comes up so you can keep inside.”

...she’d almost forgotten about that. “Okay...be careful.”

“I’ll try.”

After a brief pause, Hinata makes her way up to her floor and then her door, heading in and doing up all the locks. Thankfully she has some leftover takeout from the night before, reheating it and curling up on her bed to devour it. Sleep, she knows, won’t come easy tonight, so instead she starts bingeing a show the old fashioned way on her tablet, curled under the blankets where she feels just a little safer. Childish, she knows...but she might have a panic attack otherwise.

...maybe Sasuke is right. Maybe her getting involved - even accidentally - was a mistake. And yet...she can’t bring herself to regret it. He likely would have died there in that gutter, and...even after today, she couldn’t justify that. Not in the slightest.

Besides...part of her knew that someday, her underground dealings would get noticed, and she’d either end up in jail, or...well, who knows. But she has allies. Sasuke, and the doctor...and now, it seems, the entirety of the Uchiha syndicate.

Well...too late to go back now, anyway. She’ll just have to see what tomorrow brings. Speaking of...she sends her supervisor a message about needing the day off due to feeling unwell. Should be easy enough...she almost never takes time off. And it’s not like her department isn’t huge enough to go on without her.

Either way...the morning should be...interesting.

.oOo.

(This is a sequel to days 250, 254, 269, and 300!) MORE cyberpunk AU! And thankfully not TOO long after that last cliffhanger xD Sorry about that guys, but this one's a bit longer to help make up for it! Things are getting a lil complicated, aren't they? Poor Hinata...she didn't mean to get dragged into any of this, but I guess them's the breaks, now! But at least someone's doing his best to help keep her safe ;3 Anywho, I gotta head off for the night! Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #senju tobirama #uchiha itachi #gun //#oil and blood [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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undertaleowl · 6 years ago

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How would the MT and MF skelebros react if they were home, on their day off, waiting for their S/o to come home. When their S/o suddenly comes running in, slamming the door behind them and leaning against it panting, noticeably holding back sobs and shaking. When the skellys get close to ask what happen their S/o quickly clings to them crying into their chest, explaining that this group jumped out at them, talking and threatening not only them but their skelies.(PART 1)

(PART 2 FOR MT AND MF SKELEBROS) However their S/o wasnt going to allow that group to see that they were scared and bravely told them to ‘f#ck off, jump into the nearest hole and rot’ and quickly made a run for it managing to lose them and made it back here safely but shaken up.

Scenarios and protective skeletons ahead, anon. Thanks for the ask. Underneath the cut!

MT Sans (Short Stack)

“Where the hell is your care package?” he demanded to know as soon as you barreled through the door. He’s seen the look on your face enough times with his brother and the rest of his associates to know that something unexpected and probably horrible just went down. You gave him a flat look, and he immediately checked you. There weren’t any injuries on you, so it was no wonder that you didn’t need to use anything from your care package, though he would have felt a lot better if he knew whether or not you used the gun, especially because your lip was wobbling, and—oh fuck, you were about to cry.

He stepped closer to you and put his hands on your shoulders. He didn’t want you to be scared or upset, but you had to be calm enough to tell him what just happened. He told you as such, while he rubbed small, comforting circles into your shoulder blades with his thumbs.

Finally, you calmed down enough to tell him what happened, and he knows that his magic is pulsing in his eye-socket right now. Those fucking punks, they seriously think they can mess with his mate like that? He highly doubts that those who had to travel in a group for power would be able to injure him.

“I’m gonna be walking with you to work and back from now on, kay, Tootsie Pop?”

Your security increases ten-fold, especially because you had put on a brave face. Now those asses think you could be a threat. Logically, he knows he should scold you, but he is proud that you thought quickly and managed to keep up a mask, one of the best strategies for survival.

He can’t ignore the fluttering in his soul when he remembers that you had defended him. Reassuring smooches definitely occur later in the evening, after he resets every security measure in the apartment.

MT Papyrus (Puzzle)

“Dearest? What happened? What’s wrong?”

Unlike his brother, Puzzle is not going to berate you because he is worried. Rather, he is going to ensure that everything as it should be, and if it’s not, he will do his best to fix it. As you lean back against the door taking in shuddery gulps of breath, he can feel your entire body shaking as he takes your hand in his. While he questions you, he is going to lead you to the couch, get tea for your nerves which are OBVIOUSLY fried, and overall, he is very methodical with how he takes care of you, like he is dismantling a bomb.

Only after you are taken care of does he seriously ask what happened to make you so panicked. He can feel his reassuring aura waver as you describe everything that happened to you on your way home, but he does his best to make sure that you don’t notice by silencing all of your worries with a kiss. “No ‘what ifs’, dearest. You were very brave and smart to get out of there when you did, as to be expected of anyone who is my lover!”

In all honesty, he is so flattered that you stuck to your guns and your loyalties. That’s the ultimate sign of trust in their world of corruption and bad politics. Sure, you could have been less abrasive about the entire so that the thugs didn’t further suspect you of being very associated with the family, but he isn’t about to scold you for that. After refilling your tea, wrapping a blanket around you, and reassuring you one more time that everything was fine, he goes to reset the mechanisms around the apartment entrances as well as the toy store entrances. He then calls Undyne and requests that she and the Guard make the toy store a part of their evening rounds for a little bit, just to make sure.

Only the best and safest for his datemate.

MF Sans (Wally)

Before you could even slam the door behind you, Wally yanked you inside the apartment, commanding you gruffly to get to the gun-safe underneath the floor. You do so as Wally patrols the hallway, all of the floors in the apartment building, and the perimeter of the building as an extra measure. He gradually relaxes as he came back to your shared flat. Whatever had spooked you, it clearly hadn’t followed you. Only thing to do now was to make sure that you were doing okay and to double check your story to make sure nothing was on its way.

You couldn’t help but jump when Wally opened the hatch, but he just reached down with a giant hand to help you up. He noted with a grimace that your hand was still shaking when he hauled you up to him.

“You wanna tell me what got ya so spooked?” he rumbled as he forced you to sit down with him. If you struggle, he’s still not going to let you up, because if you’re shaking now, then you’ll be even more terrified when you’re by yourself, and nothing really gets past the Wall. You mumbled what happened into his dress shirt, and you hear him curse under his breath, which makes you wince in return. He rubs your shoulder as a reassurance as you finish up telling him what happened.

“You know you’re about as threatening as a mouse, right?”

You squawk in offense, which makes him cackle in return. In all honesty, he is more amused than anything that you stood up for him to those punks, who were more than likely just some very low-level gangsters that wanted to move up in the world. He’s amused just because you’re so tiny compared to him, and now he’s picturing a tiny you squeaking out insults while you shake your tiny fists, like a cartoon character.

After this, though, he tries to give you some techniques so that you can just attack and be done with it instead of running all the way back. It’s not that he’s mad that you ran (you probably confused the hell outta those guys; good for you!), but it would probably be less troublesome for you both if you just knock them out or off them.

MF Papyrus (Quizzy)

He pulls you in by the wrists and sits you down on the floor. He crosses his arms and glares at you.

“Who was threatening and who was chasing? Were they one and the same?” he asked, his tone no-nonsense. The voice wasn’t quite as cold or terrifying as the voice he used when he was interrogating for the family, but the connotation was still loud and clear– whoever did this to you is going to be tortured until he or she succumbs to madness.

After all, Quizzy never killed. There was simply no enjoyment to be had if he did so.

Still shaking from the adrenaline rush, you nodded as confirmation to the second question. “Th-thugs. Small gr-group on 12th Avenue and Park Street.”

“How many?”

Hands trembling like a lone leaf on a tree branch on a windy day, you held up four fingers. He nodded.

“Similar uniform and similar-looking? Or completely diverse?”

You gestured vaguely to your face. “M-masks. Didn’t see. Different clothes.”

The interrogation lasted another half an hour. Eventually, he had sat down next to you so that you could lean against his shoulder and hold his hand. You were quite brave and strong, but there was no shame in being intimate and consoling, because you were his to comfort. He was actually incredibly proud that you were able to recall all of the important details that he asked of you. Not only did you completely tell off those unaffiliated fools, but you kept calm and calculated as you did so. You two would need to work on how your adrenaline rushes and fear presented itself, but that was a training for another time. He was satisfied that you two were safe for the evening, and that you deserved pampering. He picked you up bridal style and went to your shared master bathroom, as he filled the tub and lit the candles to your exact specifications.

He’d torture those idiots tomorrow. Tonight was about luxurious lavender-scented bubble baths and loving you.

#undertale #undertale imagines #mobtale #mobfell #mt sans #mt papyrus #mf sans #mf papyrus

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splendidlyimperfect · 5 years ago

Link

Sting’s life has been a mess ever since he was eleven years old and Rogue told when he’d promised to keep a secret. Now Sting is an adult, and the only way he knows how to cope is by getting drunk and forgetting the world. When drinking nearly kills him, he gets a chance to turn his life around, and maybe fix his past mistakes.

Chapter Summary: Natsu helps Sting through withdrawal, and Sting thinks about Rogue.

Chapters (2/?) : 1 | 2 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Sting Eucliffe & Natsu Dragneel, Sting Eucliffe & Weisslogia Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Rogue Cheney, Gray Fullbuster, Weisslogia Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Trans Character, Trans Sting, Friendship, Childhood Friends, Sting-focused story, Sting is a disaster, Natsu’s a great friend, Rogue tries to do what’s right, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 2 of i’m still standing

**TW for brief mention of self-harm & suicide attempt

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de·tox·i·fy | \ (ˌ)dē-ˈtäk-sə-ˌfī verb : to free (someone, such as a drug user or an alcoholic) from an intoxicating or an addictive substance in the body or from dependence on or addiction to such a substance

xii

“Were you trying to kill yourself?”

The question comes the day after they get home from the hospital. Sting’s curled up on the couch, shivering and trying to ignore his aching stomach. He looks up at Natsu, who’s crouched in front of him with a glass of water.

“What?”

“Were you trying to kill yourself?” Natsu repeats, looking Sting in the eye. His expression is hard to figure out, but Sting’s pretty sure he’s not angry. Sting knows what angry looks like.

He takes the water from Natsu and drains the whole glass, then gives it back with trembling hands. Natsu stands up and grabs another blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over Sting’s shoulders as he shivers. He’s so fucking cold.

“I dunno,” Sting admits eventually. “Maybe?”

“Why?”

Sting can’t answer the question right away because his stomach cramps up and he groans, curling into a tighter ball and wrapping his arms around himself. He’s already thrown up more times than he can count, so he knows there’s nothing left in his stomach, but it’s roiling anyway – rebelling against him, asking for the one thing he can’t have.

Natsu’s hand brushes against Sting’s forehead and Sting flinches.

“Maybe coming home from the hospital wasn’t the best idea,” Natsu murmurs, nudging Sting over so he can sit next to him on the couch. “You’re burning up again.” He sets one of the couch cushions in his lap and nudges Sting until he’s lying on it, face almost pressed into Natsu’s stomach.

“I’m s-sorry,” Sting manages, squeezing his eyes shut. Natsu reaches back and flicks off the lamp so that the only light in the room is the soft glow of the moon spilling through the window.

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Another spasm wracks Sting’s body, and his jaw seizes up from the tension. The only sound he can make is a low, groaning noise. Natsu’s hand touches his forehead again, and then gentle fingers start to comb through his hair, shifting the sweaty strands that are plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck.

“You’re gonna make it through this,” Natsu says, one hand rubbing Sting’s arm while the other keeps brushing through his hair. “Has it been this bad before?”

Sting manages to shake his head. The last time he was sober for more than a week, he’d been seventeen, and Uncle Wes had been the one helping him through it. He’s tried to quit before, but he’s pretty sure he’s never made it longer than six days, and it’s never been like this.

Sting drifts in and out of sleep for a while, and eventually Natsu turns on the TV to some cooking show that Sting vaguely recognizes. Uncle Wes used to watch it. The background noise is calming, somehow. Natsu keeps combing his hair, and every time a spasm pulls at Sting, Natsu rubs his back and tells him quietly that he’s going to be okay.

-----

When Sting wakes up the next day, the first thing he wants is a drink.

He opens his eyes slowly, squinting against the sunlight that’s filling the room. It takes a second to figure out where he is – he’s expecting the couch at Ryan’s, or the back alley near the bar, or maybe a bed at the shelter if he’s lucky. Instead, he realizes that he’s in Natsu’s apartment with his head in Natsu’s lap. Natsu is fast asleep with his head tipped back and one hand still resting on Sting’s shoulder.

As soon as Sting tries to sit up, Natsu’s awake, rubbing his eyes and yawning. The first words out of his mouth are, “how are you feeling?”

Sting can’t answer because the truth will just be disappointing.

“Fine,” he says, but when he tries to sit up, he nearly passes out.

“Nice try,” Natsu grumbles, flicking Sting’s forehead. Sting winces, trying to bat Natsu’s hand away, but his whole body feels weak and heavy. “You think you can eat something?”

The mention of food makes Sting’s stomach cramp again, and he tries to roll away from Natsu to vomit. He tumbles awkwardly off the couch, banging his arm on the coffee table and ending up on his hands and knees. Heat flushes through Sting’s body as his stomach contracts, but nothing comes up, so he just heaves a few times and then collapses face-first onto the carpet.

“I’m gonna take that as a no,” Natsu says dryly, tossing the blanket off and kneeling next to Sting. “C’mon, let’s get you in the bath.”

Sting tries to protest, but his movements are feeble and Natsu shakes his head.

“You smell like vomit and tequila,” he says, wrinkling his nose as he hauls Sting to his feet. “You’re gonna have a bath, take the meds from the hospital, and go back to sleep until you can do something other than puke.”

They’re in the bathroom and Sting’s sitting on the toilet as Natsu runs the bath when Sting suddenly realizes that he’s going to have to undress.

“W-wait,” he mumbles, grabbing at the hem of his shirt as Natsu turns to him. He shakes his head and the whole room spins.

“I lived in a dorm with communal showers for a year,” Natsu says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen naked dudes before. C’mon, let me help you.”

“’s not the… the same,” Sting insists, crossing his arms over his chest and blinking hard to try to get the room back into focus. Natsu doesn’t know, and Sting’s not sure he’ll understand. “Don’t wanna.”

Natsu sighs, rubbing his face and leaning back against the wall. “I’m worried you’re gonna drown if I’m not helping you,” he says gently. “If you’d rather take a shower you can keep the curtain closed and I’ll stand out here?”

Sting slides down from the toilet onto the floor and pulls his knees up to his chest, wishing everything would stop spinning. Natsu’s right. He can’t even stand up on his own, never mind take a shower.

He wants to cry.

“Can’t,” he says eventually, peeking up at Natsu. “Myself, I mean.”

Natsu reaches over and turns off the water, then sits back on his heels and studies Sting carefully. “What’s going on?” he asks. His expression is gentle and open, and Sting finds himself falling into it.

“’m different…” Sting says, tipping his head back against the cabinet. “Jus’… stuff.” He waves a hand vaguely at himself – he hasn’t had to talk about this since he came out to Ryan three years ago. Sting knows that he’s making next to zero sense but Natsu’s face suddenly shifts to an expression of realization.

“Gotcha,” he says, nodding. “Okay, if you’re—if you’d rather do it yourself, we can wait until tomorrow, see if you feel better? But I don’t mind helping you if you want me to.”

“You… don’t care?” Sting asks, frowning.

Natsu shakes his head. “My ex was, too,” he says.

“Oh.”

It hangs between them for a moment, and eventually Sting nods. “Okay,” he says quietly, unwrapping his arms from around his knees and reaching out slowly to Natsu. Natsu takes Sting’s hand and squeezes it before standing and pulling Sting up to his feet.

“C’mon,” Natsu says, helping Sting tug his shirt off. It’s not as awkward as Sting expects it to be – probably because he’s too dizzy to focus on what Natsu can and can’t see of his body. Before he knows it, he’s settled in the bathtub, warm water soothing his aching muscles.

Natsu’s hands are gentle as he helps Sting wash his hair with shampoo that smells like vanilla and coconut. Sting hasn’t had a bath like this in ages, and he’s so comfortable that he nearly falls asleep.

Eventually he ends up curled up on Natsu’s bed, wearing too-big sweatpants and a hoodie that says Danston University across the chest.

“Go back to sleep,” Natsu says gently, tugging the duvet up over Sting. He still can’t stop shivering. “I’ll come back in a bit to see how you’re doing, okay?”

Panic suddenly races through Sting’s body and the urge to cry hits him like a blow to the chest. “D-don’t…”

“You want me to stay?” Natsu asks, and Sting nods, relieved that he doesn’t have to ask. Natsu nudges Sting over – the bed’s only a double, so there’s barely enough room for both of them – and grabs a book from the nightstand, then leans back against the headboard.

“Sleep,” he says, and Sting’s hit by a wave of exhaustion that makes him sink into the mattress. The last thing he remembers is the shuffle of the pages of the book, and Natsu saying, “I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

-----

Sting spends the next few days alternating between throwing up everything he eats and trying to sleep between horrifying nightmares. None of them make any sense, but he always wakes up with the unsettled feeling that something’s chasing him, or he’s going to die.

Eventually, Sting starts to feel human again. He’s stopped shivering and sweating, and he’s finally able to keep down a handful of crackers and some plain pasta. Natsu hasn’t left the apartment except to run to the drugstore for medication.

“I wasn’t trying to die.”

Sting finally answers Natsu’s question a week after they come home from the hospital. They’re both sitting on the couch – Sting has his head in Natsu’s lap again, and Natsu’s flipping through his phone with one hand and combing Sting’s hair with the other. The sensation is comforting, and it keeps Sting’s mind off wanting to drink.

“You asked if I was trying to kill myself,” Sting clarifies as Natsu puts his phone away and looks down at Sting. “I wasn’t.” Natsu doesn’t say anything, still running his fingers through Sting’s hair. “I tried once,” Sting continues, voice soft. “A little while before we started working together.”

He can feel Natsu’s gaze move to his forearms and the multitude of white scars across his freckled skin.

“Why?” Natsu asks again, and his voice holds no accusation, only gentle curiosity.

Sting sighs, rubbing his face. “Lots of reasons,” he says after a minute. “I’d fucked things up again, and I had… nothing. Nobody.”

“You don’t have family?” Natsu asks.

Sting shakes his head, trying not to think about his dad. An image of Uncle Wes flashes through Sting’s mind, but he shakes it away regretfully. There’s no way he’d want to see Sting again – not after the last time.

“My mom died and my dad’s an asshole,” Sting says eventually.

“Friends?”

Sting shrugs. “Everyone I know here is… into bad shit,” he says.

Then he thinks of Rogue. Sting hasn’t seen Rogue since they were eleven and Sting used to be Abbey. Sting knows Rogue’s an adult now, like him, but the last image Sting has of him is a scared, confused kid who had taken care of him when nobody else would.

“I used to have a best friend,” Sting says softly. He looks down at his hand. There’s a scar on his ring finger from when they’d built the tree fort in Rogue’s back yard and Sting had nearly nailed his hand to one of the planks of wood. The memory is bittersweet – that fort had been their hideaway, as well as Sting’s only safe place as a little kid.

“What happened?” Natsu asks.

“He was just trying to help,” Sting says sadly. “And I was stupid. I hated him for it for a long time. I thought he’d ruined my life.”

Natsu doesn’t say anything, just sits quietly with Sting and his guilt. Eventually Sting sighs and looks up at Natsu.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Sting says. “The only person who ruined my life was me.”

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