#listen i pick at my skin. so much. and it bleeds. i would be testing eddie boy's self control so much and he would fail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littledollll · 1 year

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Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a Larissa Weems x fem reader fic? Reader is an outcast too, she can control people's dreams (for better or for worse) however she can't control her own, and she's the language teacher at Nevermore and her and Larissa have been dating for a little while now. One night she has a really bad nightmare about something from the past, Larissa manages to wake her up from it; as reader had been clawing at her own skin, making it bleed etc and when she wakes up larissa has her arms pinned and is trying to calm her down? Like laying on top of her trying to level out her breathing, kissing her cheek as she whispers "You're okay, you're okay." Like Larissa baby-ing her, that kind of thing? I'm sorry if this is a little long

I’ll keep you safe

Larissa Weems x outcast!reader

Warnings: annoying teenagers٫ Stress٫ nightmares٫ unintentional self harm(it’s not too focused on), being physically restrained, idk what else

A/n: Anon i have to say, i loved this request so much i got down like 6 paragraphs in about 10 minutes, instant ideas so thank you!!, I chose Spanish since you didn’t specify and it’s my first language (in short im lazy)

“We’re doing oral reports in two weeks! I want you all to pick a topic of interest and do research on it, this will have to include a progress turn in every two days, I don’t want you guys doing it all last minute, that’s one grade. Then your written work, just what you’re going to say up front so I can follow along and assist you when you need it! That’s another grade. The final grade will be your oral report, there’s different criteria I will be reviewing but that will be in a handout I’ll give you guys on Monday we will discuss it then!”

You can hear the collective groaning and complains coming from all sides of the class, “wait when do the two weeks start”, people trying to convince you to do something else, “Would you consider adding more time?”, those asking if they can skip the oral part and just to the other two things, and the two or three going “oh does it have to be in Spanish” like it’s not the whole point of the class and assignment.

“It will be three easy grades don’t let me down guys! Yes I know how much you guys hate it but it’s in the curriculum and you will need this depending on what you want to do in the future. You! Yes my love we can negotiate the turn in period, don’t worry”

“No I am not changing the assignment! No you can’t NOT do the oral report, you will lose a full grade unless you can give me a justified reason as to why you can’t speak up front. Yes it has to be in Spanish that’s the whole point, please calm down!”

“I will give you all nightmares if you don’t stop complaining!” The whole class went silent. Finally. “But I can just as easily help you guys out if you just behave and ask nicely. As I said the details will all be discussed on Monday so stop screaming at me, class time is already over, we could all be in our rooms by now if you guys didn’t throw a tantrum”

Your abilities as an outcast were something you genuinely loved about yourself, being able to control others dreams came in handy more than you’d think. You’d use dreams to give extra practice for those who asked (which was mostly the music, choir, theater kids), those who needed extra study time for tests, when you knew your students needed comfort or a safe space, specially since you could allow them to remember their dreams. It being the last class of the day you dismissed them and headed to Larissa’s office.

————————————————————

Once you came in Larissa greeted you. “You seem rather annoyed.. stressed? did something happen, beloved?”

“Just my last class, I assigned oral reports and they are not happy about it, i mean they were basically screaming at me about it, I love them, really, I do but they don’t know how to listen!” You sighed, coming around her desk and wrapping your arms around her behind her chair.

“Who would have thought advanced Spanish students would hate Spanish so much! I know it’s not personal but the way they groan and complain isn’t that encouraging either, just makes me feel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

Larissa’s hands soothed over your arms, taking one of your hands in hers and kissing it. “You’re the cool teacher, they aren’t used to not doing “fun” things in class, they’ll come around٫ love. Is there anything I could help you with?”

You groaned, hiding in her neck. “No, you’re right, I’m sure they’ll be better Monday once I explain.” Larissa nodded.

“30 minutes and we’ll get out of here, alright?” Teachers got out one hour before the principal, leaving you to wait for her everyday. You nodded and went over to one of the armchairs٫ pulling out your phone and deciding to answer emails.

You whined, dramatically putting your head on her desk, she chuckled. “More complains?” “You think they understand what “I’ll explain on Monday” means?”

They were stressing you out even more, and in your experience٫ Stress means nightmares.

————————————————————

“Love?” Larissa woke up to your squirming she thought you just couldn’t sleep, then she heard the whimpers, from there it somehow got worse so fast. The way your hands gripped your arms, your hair, how you curled into yourself, what broke Larissa out of her trance was a sob that tore through your throat. It was enough to spring her into action as she forced the sleep from her mind.

She was trying to be gentle, you were scared enough, frantic, she didn’t want any sudden movements to hurt her or you. First she tried to grab one arm, trying to shake you awake. “Angel?-“ she gave up on that quickly as she saw the cuts made from your own nails that ran down your arm and how you tore away from her just to claw at your own skin, alright option two. She straddled your legs to stop the kicking, taking your hands pinning them down.

She settled for talking you down as her thumb rubbed over your palms in what she hopped would be a calming notion “you’re okay sweetheart, you’re our room my love, it’s just us.” Your squirming died down but you were still tense, your complains and whimpers never stopped, the way you were gripping her hands was clear sign the squirming stoped merely because she essentially forced it.

“Oh my darling girl.. it’s me, my love it’s Rissa, it’s just a nightmare, my sweet, listen to me.” When you calmed slightly more she decided it was safe to loosen her hold and lean over to turn the lamp on. “It’s time to wake up darling.”

The way you snapped awake made her heart clench. How unsettled you looked, the way you looked around the room and eventually up at her, pupils blown wide panic written all over your face. She smiled at you reassuringly and leaned down kissing your cheek and forehead. “It’s okay, my sweet little love. You’re okay with me, angel.”

She didn’t want to fully surround you, it would be too much while you’re already panicked, but she also couldn’t afford you hurting either of them in that state, so she waited, and spoke softly. “You are in Nevermore, in our room, in our bed.” Larissa deemed it safe enough to let go of your arms, gently cupping your face. “I know, my love that you’re scared, but I’m with you, I’ll protect you for anything and anyone, you are safe, 100% safe, I’ll make sure of that, yeah?” You only nodded.

Larissa gave you a second. “Would you like me to move away?” You shook your head, wanting to cry at the thought, she saw it, and moved slowly, moving to your side and turning you with her, she hugged you tight and purposely slowed her breathing for you to follow, you of course did. She only hugged you tighter when she felt your arms coming shyly around her and you hid into her chest.

“I’m not expecting you to tell me what you just lived, nor am I asking, but if you want to my love, I will listen.” You shook your head again. “You hurt yourself angel, a lot, we have to take care of that later okay? But I’ll take care of you, I’ll keep you safe every second.” You frowned and looked up at her. “How can you be so sure..” you barely mumbled out. “Well because I risked a slap across the face to save you from you.” You giggled. “I’m- very sorry.”

She pinned you down and furrowed her brows. “Are you apologizing for having a nightmare?” She kissed the tip of your nose. “Is that stupid?” A kiss to your cheek this time. “Did you cause the nightmare?” Now on the other side. “No! you know I can’t- ohhhh” she pressed a final kiss against your lips and moved to look at you, making you smile. “Right, so it’s not your fault, which means you don’t have to apologize for that, my beautiful beautiful girl.” You blushed at that, hiding your face in your hands.

“Would you like to try going back to sleep?” She asked as she moved the lay beside you, and you shook your head, curling into her. “Darling, you got here exhausted.. you still are. I’ll wake you if the nightmares start again, and the lamp will stay on.” You didn’t say anything, instead pulled yourself closer to her and closed your eyes, she smiled. “Sweet dreams, angel, you’ll be okay with me, I promise.”

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #wednesday nevermore #wedneday #wednesday weems

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zv5x · 2 years

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mmm yandere!eddie forcing the reader to take a deliriant once when they misbehave and taunting them when they start tripping balls.. like the reader keeps seeing shadow people and spiders crawling around on their skin, shaking and crying and begging for it to stop meanwhile eddie is just hunched over speaking to them; “this wouldn’t have happened if you had just listened to me. they’re gonna get you now. it’s out of my hands.”

"Halucinations" : (Yandere!Riddler • Reader - Romantic Scenero)

holy fuck anon your brainnnnnnn ***sharp inhale*** tw // drugs , forced consumption of drugs , use of the yandere trope , violence , ⚠️HEAVY HALUCINATIONS⚠️ , paranoia , psychosis , threats , delusional and toxic mindsets , mentally abusive relationships , victim blaming

What you were seeing was completely indescribable. The static that coated your vision, only to be replaced by the flashing of your most trumatic memories, the feeling of crawing and tingling that covered your arms and legs, it was all indescribable. Edward was standing over you, hunched slightly, as if he were studying you, but you were too confused and frightened to find the strength to call out to him yet. In your delusions as a matter of fact, you forgot why you even hated him so much. You couldn't remember anything other than to try your best to ignore the whispers of the tall man with the hat that was trying to reach you from the corner wall.

He was saying such horrible, haunting things to you, and all of his friends were seeming like they wanted to join in. Their voices and their threats bounced around the room as your usual surroundings continued to distort, the static in your ears and the bugs crawling on your skin only growing with intensity. They were going to get you, you were sure of it. You had to do something, anything. Hopefully Edward wasn't hurt by the shadow man or anyone else, hopefully he was still here and could try and help you. Your thoughts were nothing but mush, as well as a makeshift echo chamber for the screams of the damned.

His name came out louder than you expected, your throat feeling like it was being torn out as you called out his name. Please, God, just help. Help. All you needed was help. Someone to pick those bugs off your skin too, as you saw you were starting to bleed. It was agonizing, the way they bit into you and tore at your flesh. You were watching them eat you alive, like they were starved for centuries and were finally permitted a meal in the form of you.

Edward hummed, a tone overshadowed by the screams and the static. Though, his voice shined through with disturbing clarity. "I would if I could. I did try to warn you, though. It's not in my control anymore. You should have listened." What? No. Please. You begged him to not leave you on your own, to at least get ONE of the bugs off or try and distract at least ONE of the intruders. Nothing seemed to phase him though, and you continued to bleed and beg and cry.

The shadow people were coming closer to you now, rats seemed to have gained interest in your fresh flesh as well, and you watched as the bugs and rats rivaled each other for spots. Your blood was pooling onto the floor now, gathering at Edward's boots and making a sloshing sound, like what one would hear when stirring fresh macaroni.

You felt a pain in your stomach. You forced yourself to look up rather than down, just in case you got a chance to accidentally watch them consume your own entrails.

On the opposite side of halucinatory delusion, Edward was holding back the urge to comfort you after deciding it was best to put the anti-bark muzzle he had prepared on you onto your face. It was such a heartbreaking event, hearing you scream in such desperation. But it had to be done, and it's not like he has an antidote to the drug's effects.

The drug he gave you only simulated a taste test of what can truly be found on the city streets. The people of Gotham would have passed you around like a brand new shining toy if they ever got ahold of you, and would have given you far more to scream about than the "bugs" and the "shadow people" ever could.

In a way, you asked for this. You denied his love as being genuine, called him sick and twisted, and even tried to run away from his loving home. He had to teach you a lesson, and killing off another one of your family or friends was too easy. You've seen him do that before, and you were even forced to participate. He needed to really reach you, and considering your reactions, this was the best available method.

He read about the psychological damage such drugs can cause, and wondered if your love for him would have no choice but to develop if he was the one to comfort you immediately after your high was over. Oh, how delightful that would be...his arm around your shoulder while you proudly announce your love for him, his fans cheering and Bruce Wayne regretting ever questioning the dynamic of his love life. It will be just perfect, and Edward let out a giddy laugh the next scream he heard be shut down by the muzzle. This was it. This was the most beautiful, intelligent idea any man could have ever come up with!

"I'll be back soon, (Y/N)." He smiled. "Don't let them get you."

#paul dano riddler #paul dano #paul dano x reader #paul dano x you #dano riddler x reader #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler #male yandere #yandere male #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #Www

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awrldalone · 2 years

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11th June 2022, 10.58pm

Mosquitos have been poking at my skin angrily, eating my legs, savoring the flesh. They never bothered me that much, I do not know what is different this summer.

Today I did not do much. My final exams are in two weeks, my traffic laws test is next week, and I am severely underprepared. I know I cannot pass any of my exams without actually studying, putting myself to it, but I simply cannot. I just need to run the last stretch, I need to do the last sprint, but my legs fail.

My sister had a piano concert tonight. I hated it, I always hate that kind of thing, but I smiled at her and clapped my hands and told her she was good, as if I did not listen to her practice every other night.

But now, it is time to pick back up the narration I started yesterday –

Last Saturday, we took a train to Milan, because that night we had a concert to go to. We took two, actually, because we had to take a connecting train in Verona. It was not what we expected. Not as intimate as we would have hoped. He told me, whispering in my ear through the thick FFP2 mask, that he would have liked to watch a movie with me. Instead, we barely had room to move our legs until we got off. When we sat in the other train, which was cleaner and wider, we had given up on the idea of taking out my laptop.

I studied a bit. Leopardi has always been such a big question mark to me, such a polarizing man. I still have to make up my mind about him, mostly because my school manual on him feels lacking. Considering all that he has done, written, thought in his life, a few hundred pages will never be enough.

Every time he leaned on my shoulder, my heart fluttered. I rarely feel butterflies in my stomach – usually, when I feel insects break out of their chrysalis and fly out of their cocoon in my stomach, it’s moths, brown and rotten – but his chest raising up and down near mine, his fingers braided with mine – his and mine, that is the point – him connected to me – him bleeding into me – we – his eyes looking into mine make me feel things.

In Milan, we were tourists. It is nice to be, sometimes. We had an overpriced salad, in a place I hated for its tackiness. Some restaurants, I have noticed, have this fake elegance to them, so fabricated that it becomes synonymous with decadence. They are instagrammable, sure, but that might be the root of the issue, because they look so intrinsically tied to social media. The little restaurant looked like it was made for instagram, with its pinks and clean marbles and golds. The issue is, trends cycle so fast on the internet that places like that always end up feeling vapid, uncomfortable, in my eyes.

I did not want to be unpleasant, so I said nothing. I tend to be pedantic, argumentative, unnecessarily dissenter, but I am working on it. Sometimes there’s no necessity to start enunciating a Philippicae on the decor of a restaurant.

The city center was packed. It was hot, full of people, overwhelmingly crowded. The Duomo was closed, for some reason. We spent some time in a very big bookstore, and I got a copy of Vuoto d’Amore by Alda Merini (some very insane poems; note to self: read more by her, maybe find a good biography). One of the poems paints a particularly beautiful image of a bird blossoming his singing on the branch of a tree. Others are bout despair, and her time in a mental hospital.

By the time we got to our airbnb, it was around six p.m., and we were both tired.

For the first time, we had a place to stay, and I could not help but think about how it would feel to live with him, to buy a couch, a picture frame, to tape pictures to the walls, or water plants. I was shaving the little stubble that grows on my chin and jaw, the kind that nobody sees but that annoys me, and I thought about what had happened two days before, when he said no. As the water spinned in the dark green sink, I thought that maybe he was right, that maybe it was for the better, because how can we have a future together?

I washed my face, applied moisturizer and went back to the living room, where he was sitting on the couch, his legs wide, elbows on knees. He greeted me by opening his arms, inviting me to hug him, and despite I was all clean, shaven and showered, and he was still dirty, salty of sweat and warm of sun, I went into his arms. I laid my cheek on my chest, breathing lightly. I always breathe lightly, wanting nobody to hear me, almost ashamed of the fact I need air, penitent for my own existence. He wrapped me in a hug, his strong biceps bulging on my back, until he let me go saying it was his turn to get cleaned up.

When he was away, while I was drinking a glass of water, I realized that that was the gayest fucking thing of my life. Going to the gayest fucking city in Italy with a boy I like to go to the gayest fucking concert (Charli XCX – she is great, her last album is not that good but long live bad taste) and staying in the gayest fucking apartment.

Getting to the venue was not easy. That same night, none other than Elton John was holding a concert. No taxi cabs responded to my calls. So we ended up taking one of those stupid green scooters. And it was fun.

We rushed through the streets of Milan, following my GPS, wind in our hair, dangerously balancing our weight and laughing. I held tight to him.

At one point, the stupid green scooter stopped working. That was because, we realized a few minutes later, we had gotten outside of the urban area. The service worked only inside of the city center, and the route to the venue lead us outside of it.

There we stood, between cars, in the damp heat of Milan, thirty minutes away from Fabrique. I said we should run. We ended up finding a tram that lead near there, and then we got in line.

The show itself was incredible. It was the first time for both of us, and for both of us Charli is not our favorite artist of all time. A few days before going to the concert I had realized just for how long I had been listening to her though. Since 2017, minimum, and that reflected during the show.

I got a shirt, more as a joke than anything, while he got in line for a drink. A way-too-expensive watered down vodka redbull. It was symbolic. We managed to get to the middle of the crowd, and XCX World songs started playing after the opening act left the stage.

It was fun to see who knew the lyrics and who did not. I knew every word, it’s my second favorite album by her after all, even though I should not have been able to listen to it, since it never came out. A guy next to us was wearing a t-shirt that just said “gay sex”. The boy in front of me was tall, but I liked him because he too knew every beat of the unreleased songs. M. was clueless.

And when she came on stage, it was like the best party I have ever been to. I jumped I screamed I danced I kissed M. I knew every word I yelled louder than everyone.

We got home late, and we stopped at a kebab place. He got a panini, I got a salad, a grasshopper stared at us from the corner of the room.

Even though we were tired, after eating we still teased each other. If I close my eyes, I can still imagine him behind me.

I slept in his sweatshirt, I wish I could have stolen it. I could have, to be honest, I just forgot because it was so hot during the day.

-c.

#diary

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orphancookie69 · 2 years

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My Infertility Journey: Part 3

If you read part 1, and followed all the way to part 2, I know what you are thinking. What are you thinking? Based on two miscarriages, RIP Luella and Damien, this “possible” next round is a whole different ball game. Different risks, more knowledge, more pain, less hope. There are still options, and yes always hope, but we are into some different territory.

June 2022

This will pick up in part 3 where we left off in part 2. I can imagine your thoughts, did you take any time at all? My recovery time was shorter, as my body came back into normal mode way faster round 2 versus round 1. Mentally, emotionally, yeah I am still a wreck. To a certain degree I don’t think that is going away. Next step was to have a consultation about next steps. Next steps don’t necessarily mean let’s implant again. It might mean tests, but are there any tests I haven’t done? Will the tests be worth it? How invasive are the tests going to be? Should we start considering the “S” word yet?

We had a pow wow with our doctor. There is not a lot of tests I have not done, so we took a look at the file and figured out what we had done, and what we had not. They want me to go back on the fasting/keto diet and there we might have some disagreements, as I am not sure that it is working for me anymore but I am keeping an open mind. They want to do an ERA with the next cycle and do cancer testing, and possibly add anticoagulants / intralipids into the 3rd implant. Let’s break this down a little bit more.

ERA/Cancer: This is a mock cycle in which instead of implanting after going on all the drugs “like normal” you take a skin scrape for Endometrial Receptivity Analysis. Based on my research, one should take a valium before the procedure, and while the actual pain of the procedure is short, it is supposed to suck. Day of the procedure one should have some spotting and have less than a day of recovery, and it will take 2-3 weeks to get the results back. The results will tell you if you need more or less or the same amount of preparation for implant. This is highly suggested for anyone with at least one loss to increase odds of sucess for the next implant. My doctor wants to take part of the skin scrape and have it tested for cancer. The only cancer I could find was endometrial cancer. If it is that we will get more into that, but I will tell you right now, it would make a lot of sense if I did have it. We are looking to see if this explains not only the losses but the unexplained bleeding that has happened since we started our fertility journey. The test for this is called EMB (Endometrial Biopsy).

Anticoagulants/intralipids: So intralipids are extra nutrients that get delivered to your system by IV to make sure your body has everything it needs to make sure baby makes it. Diet should do so, but between pregnancy restrictions and fasting/keto diet, some doctors add this. I don’t know much more than that about it, once I know more I will update this section. Anticoagulants are blood thinners that are injected. I believe they are injected into ones stomach and it is supposed to help not have blood problems while on an IVF cycle.

July 2022

In July, we are waiting for the body to have its first cycle since the miscarriage. Now there are two trains of thought, some people start the count down clock when the body comes to 0 beta results OR when the miscarriage happened. For me, the miscarriage happened in May/June 2022 and 0 beta happened in June 2022. At first the doctor said to call him by 7/15 if I did not have a cycle by then, but then he adjusted it to 8/1. 8/1 makes more sense, as it could take up to 3 months for the body to come back to normal with a cycle after a miscarriage. 3 months would be either: May June July OR June July August. So this month we play the waiting game.

While we “wait in july” (god that feels like a wannabe twilight reference) let’s talk about how important it is to listen to your body. Coming out of miscarriage, I had “fever weekend” with rigors and really I was not ok even after I felt better. I was talking to doctors on the phone, but not going in to see one in person. Urine and blood testing were ordered and it showed my body was fighting some sort of infection, because I was feeling better they did not prescribe any medications. They arranged another urine/blood test to see what future results said. The second round of tests showed that there was still something not ok. They gave me antibiotics. They did confirm it was a UTI, but not much else.

My theory: I had the miscarriage and with the changes I got a UTI, but it got lost in the shuffle. UTI’s that go unnoticed can turn into a kidney infection and the body could try to “fever it out” to fix itself. This combination is called Septic Shock.

I took the antibiotics, and (as far as I know) I am all better now. The doctor doesn’t think the miscarriage has anything to do with it since the infection appeared in the second result. But it does not explain anything else that happened. Regardless of what happened, or happens, listen to your body and don’t be as stubborn as me in not going to get help. I am grateful that I am ok enough to pull myself through that, but luck will only get one so far.

August 2022

This month my body would of had a natural cycle, or I will call my doctor and we will force a cycle with medication. My body was kind of coming in and out of cycle towards the end of month, so I called it and made an appointment to start the process again. Last week of July we had an appointment to have an ultrasound and blood work to see if we are good to start the ERA round, and if we are, we order more drugs from MDR.

Went in for the appointment, and we are good to go. Schedule received, drugs ordered, and anxiety enters stage right. Let’s go over some of the basics in this cycle:

Drugs: EV (Estradiol Valerate), Dex (Dexamethasone), P4 (Progesterone), hCG, Valium

Vitamins: Baby Aspirin, Prenatal vitamins (NAC, Prenatal, Omega 3, L Arginine, Coq10, Myo Inositol, D3)

Suggestions: Keto diet/Fasting, Exercise, Proper Injection Guidelines.

Price: $2000 for the ERA, $500 for drugs from MDR, $325 for the EMB

Here are some Injection Guidelines:

Before: Ice the area

During: Inject the right area, Massage it after

After: Walk it off a bit, Use a heating pad

In Between: Arnica, Massaging to promote healing

Check: Infection (red, raised/bumpy, burning, itchy)

Note: Injections are intramuscular, and depending on the injection, there are only so many spots you can inject. Just because there are other muscles, does not mean you can use them even if your areas are “out of commission”. You just gotta keep them in comission!

Also, my Oscar insurance covered some of the drugs! Who would of guessed! We had one appointment today, we have another 10 days later to check the lining, and 6 days later is the ERA. I have heard the ERA is painful for not very long, but painful none the less. I will update this with those updates. Next appointment came, and I asked about Cancer testing prices and a Valium for the procedure. Next time we see the doctor, it is ERA time.

ERA: Day of the test has arrived. I asked for a valium and received one, with instructions to take it an hour before the procedure. Also to not drive myself to the office. I will oblige. My procedure was at 11 am on a Thursday in August, and I took the valium at 10 am. Got to the office by 11 am. Procedure was prepped for and once started, very short. Dear god, just because that pain is only for a minute or less-does not mean that it is not the most excruciating and violating pain there really could be, with some complimentary cramps to go with it. I signed some paperwork and then left. Feeling wise after, it is sore and cramping and emotionally I am done. Plan for the rest of the day is to rest and recover from not only the procedure but from all the drugs in general. Day of was cramping and some spotting. Next day was better but not like myself yet.

The “need for mental breakdown” came, as this is my second round IN THE SAME YEAR. It was my first panic attack, and it was a pretty scary thing. I tried to meditate, walk, sit, and finally exhaustion and ice cream lead to sleep. Update, I ran the numbers and based on the cycle that comes in August-its 21 days from day 1 to implant day, in theory the test results come just in time (if ontime) to know when to implant (early-normal-late). At this point, I have to decide a couple of things: do I go back so soon? I only have two more embryos left, am I ready to risk life or death for it? Holiday season is coming up, do I really want up to 12 weeks of injections starting pre halloween?

ERA Results: If there is a “before” “normal” and “later” window for timing, I am the normal timing. WHICH I THOUGHT I WAS BASED ON THE LAST TWO IMPLANTS. But I guess I am glad I know for sure?

EMB Results: No infections and no cancer. Yay?

Results came early, which I think is funny because I wanted to know the results before going into another cycle. Be careful what you wish for, the universe will grant it. I knew I was facing either “nothing is wrong with you” or “here is what is wrong/what you should of done before” when going into this. I am glad to be healthy but it leaves me answerless still.

Highly Suggested: it is so important to have enough people you can count on, so that if your spouse who normally does the injections can’t, you can still keep on schedule. I almost missed one of my injections because I misread/missed it on the schedule and he had work. It is also a great idea to not be the only one reading the paperwork. Both should read, and ideally, the person giving the injections should understand and prep and clean them more than the partner being injected. It takes something off the injected’s shoulders and allows them to focus on getting through to the end line. Also, this is being added to this note as I was told by my spouse that I messed up the preparation of one of the injections, and we might have used the wrong needle one time. If you miss an injection, that is generally not good, but I am also on a lot of hormones right now and If I make a mistake, well its not that shocking.

It is kind of crazy to me to think I could do three rounds of IVF in a year. But then the year before it took me a year to come out of my first miscarriage. Crazy stuff. Let’s say for shits and giggles, we implanted again in 2022, that means by christmas I am over the moon and sailing through my first trimester or sadder than puppy dog eyes. The bigger picture is an important thing to look at when going through this process. I can not believe I am considering a fourth part but stay tuned.

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

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School Nurse

@letstalkaboutfandomsbaby led me to yet another 2D man that I want to get wrecked by

How would a school nurse react to Hwajin’s presence? Dabauchery will ensue.

AN: this started out as a short little drabble, turned into a long smutty mess that I finally rangled in with romance because… after care. As a nurse I was getting to into the logistics of the pencil stab

TW: smut, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, power exchange, mild wound description (pencil stab), sex in a nurses office, oral sex

NO MINORS

Hwajin knew you would look good on your knees. You had a bratty, stubborn nature that he wanted to overpower. He thought you were too gentle with trouble makers. When he told you this, you argued that it was your job as a school nurse to take care of all the students.

How was it that you were so hostile with him but when it came to even the worst students you were so gentle. It irritated him. You actively avoided him. Maybe he wouldn't care if he didn't find you so damn adorable. Thoughts of you kept him company late at night.

Even when he forced you to take a baton after he saw a student get in your face yelling. The only person you used it against was him. Apparently you wouldn't allow him to pull students out of your office regardless of their offense.

He was shocked to learn that few students ever bothered you. The worst offenders would constantly make advances at you and since you would have his head, he disciplined them only once you were out of range.

And you were equally irate. He treated you like a child when you tried to present him with research that aggression towards children under the age of 18 was just as detrimental as ignoring their bad behavior. You weren't against addressing the students inappropriate behavior, but the number of visits to your office had tripled upon his arrival.

It become rare that schools had a nurse on campus, barely coming back in to practice following the hands off policy. And at the most part you were mainly treating the faculty and the more unlucky students. If the Ministry of Education wanted to bring in people like Na, would you even have a job much longer?

"What are you doing here? I'm not harboring any students," You hissed as the warden entered your office.

"If I remember correctly, I'm here to oversee the whole school. That includes you. Besides I actually need medical help."

Hwajin turned the lock on the door before unbuttoning his shirt. He turned around to show you a shallow hole between his shoulder blades. You tried to keep the blush from creeping on to your face as you scanned his muscular body.

Apparently a student surprised him by sinking a pencil into his skin.

"Violence breeds violence," You chided when the realization hit. "Oh god, did you kill the student?"

You were truly alarmed. He took slight offense to that question. He wasn't a great guy but he wasn't going to kill someone on the job.

"Just give me something to bandage this up," he rolled his eyes.

You motioned for him to sit on the medical table but of course he had to make things difficult, choosing to straddle a chair instead. In spite of his protests that he could take care of things himself you pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Don't be such a pain, Mr. Na. There's no way you can properly clean what's on your back."

You probed around the wound that was already angry and red. The blood has begun to dry. Trying not to cause unnecessary pain you attempted to visually assess the bed of the wound for any debris that may lead to infection.

Instinctively he howled in pain as you began to clean.

"Will you just put a bandaid over it so I can get back to my job?"

You had to admit you were getting some sick satisfaction from this. The wound was clean and you applied an anti bacterial ointment but it was in a location where the skin tended to pull and stretch so you were sure it would bleed throughout the day-

"Are you smoking in my office?"

Hwajin gave you a cheeky grin before blowing smoke toward your face.

The nerve. In retaliation you flicked the inflamed skin while avoiding the actual wound.

"Ouch, you're cute when you get angry," Na laughed.

Your cheeks were scorching, "Okay Mr Na, you're all wrapped up. Stop by at the end of the day so I can change the bandage."

He winked while buttoning up shirt, "I knew you liked seeing me."

"Out." You hissed.

As he walked down the halls he chuckled to himself. He couldn't wait for you to submit to him.

Through out the day your mind wandered to Hwajin. Him sitting in front of you, shirtless and rippled with muscle. The parts of his skin left unscarred were so soft compared to his attitude. You wondered if his palms were as soft or were they were rough and calloused.

As if on cue the man walked into your office, catching you during one of your fantasies. Was it already the end of the day? Sure enough, the clock showed school let out half an hour ago.

Just like before he secured the door and stripped off his shirt. The bandage wasn't soaked, but it did need to be changed. The day warped your work and some of the tape was lifted away from his skin.

This time politely in the chair, he hummed as you removed and replaced the soiled bandage.

"Starting tomorrow you should just leave it open to air. This is really just to keep you getting your blood on your shirt. If you start thinking you have an infection go to the hospital." You turned around to discard your gloves.

As you turned back, you bumped into Hwajin Na. He smiled down at you and ruffled your hair, "Thanks, nurse, you took such good care of me. You'll have to let me thank you."

He lowered his mouth to your whisper in your ear, "what should I do for you?"

Your were in a losing position, you didn't want to make eye contact but you couldn't stare straight ahead, he still wasn't dressed and it was too overwhelming. You settled on looking down toward his feet.

You quickly snapped your eyes back up when you notice a bulge trying to push past his pants.

"Uh, no need to thank me. It's my job." You stepped back against the wall, at least giving you a bit more space.

Hwajin placed his arms against the wall so he could close the space between you.

"What's wrong? You're flushed. Let's see if you have a fever." He pressed forehead against your. "You feel a bit warm, but not worrisome."

You stammered, "Uh, Mr Na, it's late so we should probably wrap up."

"Mr Na," he mocked you. "Why do you do that? We're both adults, you can call me Hwajin."

Your eyes darted around the room. Maybe you were being punked. Was he testing you?

"It's respectful, it would be rude to call you by your first name."

He brushed a stand of hair behind your shoulder, pleased with your response.

"Well I can think of other titles you could call me that I would enjoy much more."

You were struggling between your desire and your fear of losing your job. Surely he knew what he was doing to you.

Of course he knew, the gleam in his eyes made that clear.

"Well, it's pretty late and I don't know about you but I'm tired after today so I'll see you tomorrow."

He dropped his hands and you took that as the end of his teasing. But instead he hoisted you against him, grasping the back of your thighs.

"My poor little nurse, I've kept you so busy. How about you lay down and let me help you relax."

"Hwajin, put me down," You smacked his shoulder. Listening, he sat you down the cot you constantly sanitized. In spite of what you were saying you allowed him to crawl on top of you.

"Hmm, now you use my first name, little nurse? And here I thought you were respectful," he nipped at your ears.

You shivered.

"Well pick one," You groaned. "First, no last name, then no first name. What's left."

His tongue darted across your neck while began tearing at your clothes, "how about you just be a good girl and call me 'Sir'."

At this point the primal part of your brain took over as you pathetically began to rub against his thigh. Your Irrational brain didn't need a job, it just needed this man to fuck her.

Nearly all your clothes were discarded to the floor as his mouth began to tease your breasts. Your hand tangled in his hair when sink his teeth into your tender flesh.

"Talk to me baby," he sighed. "Use your words, ask for what you want."

You lay out a whimper and tugged at belt loops, "fuck me."

He pinched your in thigh, "Now that's not using your manners. Am I going to need to teach you to behave?"

You mumbled a response that he could barely hear, eliciting another pinch to your thigh.

You huffed, "fine, please fuck me, Sir"

Pleased with your response he tugged your panties to the side, stroking your soaked pussy with his middle knuckle.

"Atta girl. You're so fucking wet for me. How long have you been waiting to be my little slut?"

He slid one finger inside of you with ease, arching you back as moved inside you. You were trying to fumble at his the button of his pants but he pushed your hands off him.

With a growl he removed his hands and your underwear from your body, "Not yet, although I'm flattered how desperate you are for me. Turn over, ass in the air, show me what's mine."

You were happy to obey, sliding into one of your favorite positions.

"You're not be very nice, sir," You teased. "You could at least remove your pants."

His hands came down hard on your ass causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Watch what you say, unless you like being disciplined. You already know I don't tolerate disobedience. And as much as enjoy your screams, don't forget that just because school is over doesn't mean everyone is gone."

You bite your tongue as he spanked you again. He certainly wasn't holding back. But he was right, there were after school clubs and some teachers stayed as late as 8. His fingers found their way inside your warmth again, fluid dripping from your aching cunt. You had adjust to his rhythm of spanking when his fingers were at their deepest. You felt so close to release. When he withdrew from you yet again.

You let out a frustrated groan until his hand made firm contact with your pussy. Once, twice, three times produce a wet spanking sound. You couldn't hold in your tears, thankful you were a glutton for pain.

"You still with me, princess?" He cooed, getting off the bed. You nodded. "Good girl, hold that position for me just a bit longer."

You nodded again, words evading your mind. You appreciated the coolness produced by the cot. Hwajin repositioned the pillow that had fallen on the floor and removed his belt.

Standing next to you on the bed he finally directed you into another position. He helped you stand, barefoot on the linoleum floor. You were held against his chest as you gathered your bearings.

He nuzzled against your hair, "I'm not a gentle man, if you need to stop at any time you say so okay. And that's an order. Can you do that for me princess?"

You told him you would as he helped you sink your knees to the pillow. He ruffled your hair again, telling you how good you looked. Finally he unzipped his pants, his erect dick right in front of you.

"Look at me."

You complied, tearing your ways away from his cock.

"If you want my dick then prove it. Open up that pretty mouth of yours."

He grabbed you by the hair, guiding your lips his shiny tip. Your tongue circled around him, admiring his taste. You weren't usually self conscious but you couldn't help but be nervous you'd disappoint him. As you began wrap your lips around him, Hwajin inhaled sharply. He gave your hair a gentle tug.

"Eyes on me. Good. You're doing so well. All the way to the base, baby."

You were almost there when there was a knock at your door. Hwajin kept his grip firm on you, instead of allowing you to pull back he shoved his throbbing dick down your throat and began fucking your mouth while putting a finger to his lips. He was smirking like the devil. Your throat constricting in protest.

"Excuse me, nurse," one of the school kids called. Knocking again.

"Fuck," Na muttered as he released into your mouth. Tears spilled over your eyes as you struggled to swallow.

The nock persisted, "hellooo? Come on I need to pick up a physical form."

"She's busy, fuck off."

As the footsteps faded down the hall Na released you from his grasp. He couldn't help but laugh at you when you pouted up at him, your were glistening and your cheeks were rosy and puffy. God, next time he swore he would take a photo of you on your knees after sucking his dick.

"Really, you had to open up your loud mouth," You whined. "You could've just pretended no one was here."

He shrugged in response, helping you off the floor.

This time on the cot you were both undressed. Hwajin sucked and bite on your neck. You nudged him off telling him he was gonna leave a mark.

"You're telling me I can't mark up my little whore?"

"Just not where students can see."

That was fair enough, there were other places he'd rather leave bruises. Between your thighs. Your stomach. Your breasts. Proof that he had made you his.

He wouldn't bite too rough, not want to scare you off. He planned on making more of these moments with you. You were better in person. Exceeding his late night fantasies.

Finally he began to slide his cock inside you, your pussy searing with pleasure at his size. It was a struggle to control the volume of your moans.

"Does my little slut like that? You want me to stuff you?"

"Please," You cried, needing more or his touch. "Please don't stop, Sir. Please let me cum on your dick."

Hwajin began to pound harder into your tight pussy, admiring how your body reacted to the sheer force of him. Each time he snapped his hips against you, your lush breasts, along with the rest of your body, followed with an intoxicating jiggle.

You were exactly what he needed and he wished to consume you. His mind flashed to images of you tied up and exposed for him, placing all of your trust in him. Or he could snap a pretty collar around your neck and tie you to the bed with a leash, you would be begging him to fuck you like a bitch.

"Tell me need me," he growled. "That no one else can fuck you into submission and make you dumb with pleasure. Your mine and I don't share."

Tears rushed down your face as a mixture of pain and desire burst the pressure in your core. You clenched around him, babbling what he instructed you to and meaning every word.

The tightness of your orgasm shocked both you and Hwajin. Paired along with your heat pushed the man past his limit, releasing his thick cum inside of you. Even through the near blinding pleasure of his own release Hwajin felt a moment of worry, he hadn't meant to pour himself inside of you, he was fully aware he wasn't wearing protect and had gotten your consent.

Between your gasps and moans you were were repeating a breathy thank you. Unless he had died and gone to Heaven You were actually begging him for more of his seed. Crying out that you needed him to stuff you full. The man nearly confessed his love for you on the spot.

However he maintained his composure. Pressing closer to you and guiding you through the high of your orgasm.

He combed his fingers through your hair, whispering praises and reassurance. Telling you to relax into him, he wasn't going anywhere. Finally your grip on him relaxed as a gluttonous smile graced your lips.

Na propped himself up next to you with his elbow. His other hand cupping your face.

You looked at Hwajin, "This doesn't mean I'm going to ignore your behavior towards the students."

"You know, seeing you protective over a bunch of snot nosed punks makes me want to fuck you until your nine months pregnant. It would keep you out of my hair while you were stuck waddling around home safe and sound. Win-win."

You gawked at him. Joking that you had yet to see any paternal instincts from him.

"I am actually great with children so long as their raised right. Like hell I'd let my kids turn out like these delinquents."

The two of you bantered back and forth while re-dressing. It was dark by the time you exited the school. Na was lighting a cigarette the minute he was past the schools threshold. You began to tell him goodnight where the two of you should naturally part ways but Hwajin caught you by the wrist, a confused expression thrown your way.

“Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet," he said, cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were about to respond when he cut you off. "Round two will be so much better in my bed. You'll be lucky if You leave my place in time for work tomorrow. But we should probably feed you first. I gotta take care of my little nurse."

#hwajin na #smut

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙀𝙉𝘿. ҂ 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

request:

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests rn lol but I was wondering if you can write a clay imagine? It can be smut or anything lol

pairing: dream x fm!reader

warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, calling dream clay, cliche apocalypse au, blood, kinda sad ngl

word count: ~3000

links: ao3

a/n: Hi everyone. I have no idea what this is, but if you like it let me know! I was struggling with coming up with something for dream but here we are on a crackpot tangent. N E WAY, thank you for all your support and requests! Have a great week and happy reading ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

Soapy bubbles clung to your arms as you pressed your hands into the hot water, sighing as you reached the bottom of the sink. You didn’t care about the murky discoloration of the water from the stack of dishes you had just polished off. You attempted to let the stress of your day roll off your shoulders to mix into that same water. Call it a baptism, but the solace you got standing before the sink, pouring your emotions into the dark, louring water was comparable to nothing. The radio buzzed with slight static as the station attempted to break through the heavy interference.

That was until three long pulses echoed over the station, making your skin crawl as if an unseen force were intruding on your alone time. You stood up straighter, water dripping down your arms and splashing on the linoleum floor beneath you as you listened to the grizzled news broadcaster read from an obviously unedited announcement. The world outside of your apartment seemed to still, silence echoing through the streets where shrilling sirens lived only moments before.

“Breaking news… NASA has just verified that the mystery asteroid is, in fact, in danger of crashing into the Earth… As of this moment-” His voice cut out, your radio buzzing into static. In a panicked effort, you vaulted across your kitchen, slipping on the dishwater in the process as you tumbled to the ground. Before the pain could set in, you climbed to your feet, smacking your hand atop of the radio. It finally crackled back to life as you twisted at the dials feverishly. “... three days. To repeat, there is a countdown on the NASA website… take shelter when the time nears.”

Your ears rang alongside the three pulses to indicate the message was over. You were in denial, figuring there was no way this asteroid was actually going to obliterate the Earth. Surely, it was a joke. Everyone had been making memes of the space rock since it was picked up on NASA’s radar a month prior. Surely, this was just a test.

You waited for the city to come back to life, but everything remained still. After everything you’d all been through in the last year, an asteroid was going to be the end.

A sharp and urgent knock hammered against your door, making you jump a few feet in the air. Before you could move to see who it was, the person was already through the threshold. You peered around the corner of the kitchen and down the hall, your gaze meeting a pair of dark green irises. Clay’s towering figure stalked toward you, his eyes brimming with tears and panic. He pulled you into his embrace rather hurriedly, as if he’d been itching to wrap around you before he broke down.

The hint of cologne clouding the air around the two of you suggested that he was on his way out. As your hands followed their muscle memory to grip onto his clothes, he dug his face into the crook of your neck. It was becoming clear that even if you weren’t responding to your best friend’s need, he was going to take it from you.

He pulled away from you slightly. Your mind had gone completely silent as he looked at you, his attention struggling to focus on one part of your face. Your body felt numb and your tongue had gone dry. His gaze traveled towards the ground and he stepped back slightly, worry spreading across his features as he clamped his hand around your forearm.

“Why are you bleeding? What happened?” His voice cracked slightly as he dug into the drawer beside you to find a towel. You furrowed your brows before finally catching sight of the blood seeping from your arm and between his fingers. His hand was large enough that it nearly served as its own bandage.

He tugged you behind him towards your bathroom. “I fell…” You mumbled, your mind now racing with questions. Why couldn’t you feel the cut? Or his hands? He pushed you upwards to sit on the bathroom counter, his crimson hands shaking slightly as he rinsed them off. Your fingers tightened around the towel holding your wound together. As he focused on the task before him, he seemed to calm down ever so slightly. He rolled his head on his shoulders and took a deep breath to steady himself as fished through your First Aid kit.

“I was on my way to Nick’s and I heard the news. I’m…” He brought his arm up slightly to brush away a few tears against his shoulder. He pulled open a package with his teeth. You watched him carefully as he worked to clean you up. His blond locks hung over his eyes, curling around his ears and twisting about as he focused and you could almost hear his mother’s voice telling him he needed a haircut.

Your chest ached. “Clay, I think I’m having some kind of a breakdown,” you mumbled, your own eyes prickling with tears as he looked up at you quickly. Usually, you were the one that kept it together. It had been like that since the two of you were teenagers. Despite the fact that Clay’s tall, muscular stature gave off the appearance of an intimidating being. In actuality he always let his emotions get the best of him, leaving you in charge of being the rational one.

But as he patched up your arm and struggled not to fall apart, the reality was settling in to weigh heavily on your shoulders.

He began to talk softly to you---much like you usually did for him---making sure his touches were delicate and slow. While his hands were coarse from years of football and building decks with his dad in the summers when the two of you were younger, they were so tender when dealing with you. He cradled you as if you would break at the slightest flex of his finger.

“Why didn’t you just go to Nick’s?” You asked him once he’d finished bandaging your arm and had begun rewashing his hands. The scarlet water in the sink looked almost surreal after you’d been staring so long at the caliginous dishwater. He rested his hands on the edge of the sink, his eyes flashing up to look at himself in the mirror before chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Your hand traveled up his arm, his skin warm beneath your touch as you tugged on his bicep to bring him closer to you. He moved to wrap you in his embrace once again, his breath melding into your hair as his fingers closed around the fabric of your shirt. “I’d rather spend the end of the world with you,” he barely whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder softly.

You pulled away from him gently, his forehead moving to rest against your own. One of his hands moved to brush into your hair, his fingers finding purchase against your neck. The familiar smell of smoky vanilla and sage seeped into your mind at his closeness. You thought about your first kiss shared in “the name of science,” after you turned fourteen. Clay had been so awkward in his body at that time; his hair shaggy, stretch marks along his knees from his growth spurt, and a growing realization that you were in fact, a member of the opposite sex.

The Clay before you, even in his state of anguish and anxiety, stood with a cockiness that that Clay couldn’t have even dreamt of. His thumb glossed over your jaw, his eyes cast down as if his mind was wreaking havoc on his movements. Cautiously, you leaned towards him, sealing the space between the two of you as your lips pressed against his. The air of catastrophe seemed to dissipate around you as he pulled you tighter against him. The taste of mint and a faint whisper of fruit from the gum he always chewed blended against your tongue. Your arms moved to wrap around his waist, wanting him pressed to you as close as he could be.

He wrapped his hands around your thighs, pulling you up and into his arms as he made his way to your bedroom. As your back hit the mattress, Clay’s lips were back on yours, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to tug the fabric over his head. You sighed as he hesitated before nipping at the skin of your collarbones, his tongue ghosting against any mark that formed on your skin from his teeth. You drove your hands into his hair, your fingers locking around the slight curls forming. He pushed your shirt off and you wiggled out of your sweatpants.

His hips dug into yours, the friction bringing a lazy smile to your face as you bit your lip. You tugged on his hair, making him moan into your ear to mix with his motions. “I want you, Clay,” you stated, your voice falling from your lips in a slightly deeper tone, your breathing uneven with passion. He moved to look into your eyes, pausing for a moment before his hand slid between your waistband and your hip to remove your underpants. It was clear that even as the timer clicked away the minutes the two of you had together, you wanted to savor him. If the world ended now as the two of you were in each other’s embrace, you would be fulfilled.

He smirked slightly at your words, his lips finding your neck once again. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear that,” he moaned, pressing a kiss behind your ear. He slunk down to press his lips against your stomach, moving slowly up your body to bury his face in your hair, grinding his hips against yours. You fought not to roll your eyes as you hooked your fingers through his belt loops, pulling his pants off. He pressed his lips against yours, humming into the kiss as you wrapped your leg around one of his. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, grinding against him.

As Clay pushed himself into you, your whole body relaxed as if he were made for you. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, letting you adjust to him. You hummed slightly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to move. He gripped the edge of the mattress beside your head as he leaned his weight on his forearm, the angle bringing your thigh to rest against his side. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, bringing your hips up to move with his. “You’re so beautiful…” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your collarbones again as his thrusts into you became deeper.

You began to feel every inch of him in you as his hips ground against yours. Clay’s lips left yours to press against your jaw and your ear, one of his hands interlocking with yours, binding the two of you further together in the act. It was his carefulness of your forearm that sent a shock wave through your body as you were bitterly reminded that instead of a lifetime of cherishing moments like this, the two of you were cursed into his disaster arc.

His hand pressed into the mattress, fingers curling around the sheets as you pulled him down to you again, his lips melding to yours. You groaned, finding your sweet spot as he did so, making him pick up his pace. His other hand pressed against the side of your neck, bringing your skin closer to his lips as he pressed open mouth kisses to the landscape of your neck, thrusting into you and making the tension in your body tighten with pleasure. Your arms moved to wrap around Clay’s torso, pressing your lips against his shoulder as he moved. Your toes curled as you finally reached your orgasm, calling out his name and feeling him release as well, riding out your pleasure.

As you laid beside him, he played with your fingers, the quietness between the two of you nearly comforting. There was almost the question of “what now” hanging in the air.

A knock came at your door once again, your heart dropping slightly at who the person could be. You shot a look to Clay before pulling on one of the discarded shirts and your shorts from earlier. Your apartment was cold after being in bed with Clay, the air nipping at your skin and sending a shiver down your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the billboard beside your window had the countdown displayed in heavy red numbers. You swallowed your uneasiness and opened your door.

Nick stood before you, his eyebrows slightly perked at---what you could only assume---your unkempt appearance. He wet his lips briefly. “Dream’s here right?” He asked, peering over your head a bit. You silently opened your door completely, letting him inside. Clay came out of your bedroom, tugging a hoodie over his head that he had previously shoved in one of your drawers. As Nick eyed him, it seemed like he’d forgotten whatever serious matter he needed Clay for. Instead of the skittish expression, Nick’s face twisted into a knowingly smug quip.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, moving down the hallway and into your kitchen. “What’s up?” He queried Nick. You followed the two of them as Nick began to ramble about the end of the world.

Your chest tightened at his words as you took a seat at your kitchen counter. Clay uncapped a beer, leaning on the marble across from you. “There’s a bunker nearby. It belongs to some random old guy but I know some people who can get us a spot,” Nick muttered almost as if he were worried your neighbors would hear and sabotage his plans. He looked between the two of you quickly. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

You watched Clay closely as he thought, his expression nearly blank due to his somberness. You could practically hear the clock ticking away outside as the red light began to seep into your apartment. Clay chewed the inside of his cheek. “What do you think?” He asked, suddenly breaking the deafening silence and turning to you. “I wanna go where you go.” He looked almost like a child as he said this, but you were grateful he wanted to be with you in the end.

You tore your eyes from him, focusing on the ring forming in your sink from the dishwater that you hadn’t had the opportunity to drain. Your mind raced with the possibility that Nick was offering. “What’s the worst that can happen? We’re dying anyway, right?” You responded wearily.

And that’s how you found yourself packed into an underground shelter, Clay’s body pressed against yours as nameless people crowded the dense area. Nick huddled against the two of you, the asteroid’s timer serving as a foreboding heartbeat as it reminded you all that these were the last moments of your life. Clay’s arm tightened around your shoulders as you buried your face in the softness of his sweatshirt. Your legs were going numb from sitting on the ground with your knees folded to your chest, but you didn’t dare move from his grasp. Nick’s side dug into your own as he attempted to shrug away from the hysterical woman beside him whispering to herself.

Only the mumbling of prayers and lamenting sobs broke up the lulling music playing over a small Ham radio resting on a bookshelf in the corner. The tune reminded you of an eerie scene in a movie from the ‘60s. As the song faded, a newscaster began to discuss the timer, wishing that everyone was with loved ones and had spent the last of their money.

And then the final ten seconds came. Your fingers threaded with Clay’s as he pressed a lasting kiss to your forehead.

“... Nine. Eight…”

Nick leaned into you. The two of you had never really been close, but on your journey to the bunker, he'd become a companion to you just as much as he was Clay's.

“... Seven. Six…”

You let your mind travel to your past, prom in particular. When Clay shut the skirt of your dress in his passenger door by accident. You were so mad at him for finding humor in the situation.

“... Five. Four…”

You thought about the week prior when you were considering skipping a lecture because you were tired. What you wouldn’t give to go back to the simplicity of problems like that.

“... Three. Two…”

You hugged Clay tighter to you, hoping that if you both got blasted into whatever kind of eternity was waiting, you’d land at the same time.

“... One.”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, even the newscaster. The silence was painful as you all waited.

Clay and Nick moved quickly, looking around the room. You furrowed your brows at them, your grip tightening around the front of Clay’s sweater. “Do you hear that?” Clay stated, his voice coming out rushed. Nick nodded, watching as the rest of the men in the bunker began to talk amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear anything, worry settling.

“What?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

Clay pushed himself to sit up away from the wall, dragging you up with him. “How can you not hear that?” He urged mildly. Fear began to pick at your nerves as you noticed the same reactions filling the shelter. Nick stood up, following some of the other guys who heard whatever they were talking about. Clay slipped from your grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered and you grabbed his hand. His eyes flashed a different color as he looked at you.

A few of the women followed the group, attempting to get their companion’s attention before one of them opened the shelter door.

#dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #dream x you #dream smut #apocalypse #college au #dream fluff #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken scenario #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken au #tw angst

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delimeful · 3 years

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my virtues uncounted (6)

warnings: panic attack, fear, arguing

there will probably be an epilogue after this, but we're nearing the end of this story! :)

Virgil floated into consciousness with surprisingly little pain, considering the last thing he remembered was bleeding out from a stab wound.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the others’ returned after discorporating-- they weren’t much in the habit of randomly sharing vulnerabilities-- but for him, it was always rushed, his reformation slapdash at best. It was probably part of being Anxiety: he couldn’t stand the idea of being ‘out of it’ for long, not when anything could be happening to Thomas with his influence muted.

So, he would come back to himself with whatever injury that killed him barely knitted back together, and grit his teeth and bear it for the next few weeks while it slowly healed. One of his recurring nightmares was the Light Sides finding out about it, using it to keep him out of commission to ‘help’ Thomas. It seemed… less likely, after meeting them.

Meeting them. Right. He’d done that.

A low thrum of panic in his gut chased the lingering sleepiness from him, and he pushed himself into a sitting position as quickly as he dared, figuring that he might as well test the boundaries of his lack of stab wound pain before he snuck over to check that the core parts of Thomas had all made it through okay. Or before he encountered Remus again.

The first thing he registered was that there wasn’t any pain, none at all.

The second thing was that everything was proportionally huge around him.

The third thing was that these absolutely were not the Dark Side commons.

His heart rate spiked immediately as he whipped his head around, staring at what could only be the Light Side common area. He’d only caught a glimpse of it before, with the whole ‘bleeding out’ thing, and it looked impossibly different from where he stood on the living room table. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the way Thomas was so much closer here than in the Subconscious, like the difference between shallow water and the depths.

He shook himself. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in how much easier core Sides had it. There were bigger things to worry about, literally. He hadn’t discorporated, he was in the Conscious part of the mind, and he was tiny-- through no doing of his own.

Oh. They wanted revenge.

Virgil kicked away the assortment of tiny blankets around him and got to his feet, blood rushing in his ears. He’d been an asshole to them while they were stuck in the Subconscious, so they were returning the favor. Why else would they have healed him and turned him pocket-sized? It was the only explanation that made sense.

The commons were just shy of completely disorienting while empty, so he certainly wasn’t going to stick around for something as overwhelming as a Side to appear. He hurried to the edge of the table, eyeing the drop with no little trepidation. Was he lighter like this, or would he land heavily on the carpet below and break half his bones?

He shouldn’t risk it. No point in doing half the work for his captors.

If he could get a running start to the other end of the table, he might be able to make the jump to the couch, though. From there… maybe pushing a pillow to the ground. Could he even move a pillow at this size?

Another shudder worked its way through him, something small and terrified in the back of his mind shrieking at the way everything around him had changed. Had this been how the others had felt? He shook his head, stepping back from the edge and turning to face the other end of the table. He couldn’t freak out yet. Not until he was safe.

There was a distant phone alarm, the generic sort that Thomas had come to resent after using it for his morning alarm for months on end. Virgil felt a chill of foreboding pass over him, and a heartbeat later, he heard the telltale woosh of one of the core Sides rising up next to the table.

Their shadow fell over Virgil, impossibly large, and he bolted.

There was a voice, but he couldn’t pick out the words past the blood rushing in his ears, his own breathing, and the panicked rush of thoughts that came with picking flight. He focused on the jump ahead instead, the length of table ahead of him growing shorter and shorter until he was nearly to the edge, muscles tensed to leap.

The light around him being blocked out was the only warning he got before his view of the world was suddenly cut off. Half a second later, his momentum was halted by a collision with something soft, warm, and alive. He recoiled as sharply as he could, but there were already what could only be fingers curling around him, his stomach dropping as he was lifted clear off the table’s surface, his center of gravity shifting against his will.

If he hadn’t been panicking before, he certainly was now, his breaths coming shallow and shaky, barely bringing in any air as black spots started to dot his vision.

He was in someone’s hand. They could do anything to him, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it, would probably deserve it, but it would hurt and couldn’t they have just let him discorporate--

The low, calm voice that had been rumbling in the background paused for a moment, and then they were moving again, his nausea growing as everything moved too fast around him, like a car someone else was driving but a hundred times worse.

And then, abruptly, there was solid ground under his feet again. The hand opened around him.

Virgil dropped to his hands and knees immediately, pressing his forehead against the table to both quell his dizziness and find something to ground himself. He was hyperaware of the warmth emanating from the hand that still bracketed him on one side, like a shield or a threat.

The Side was still talking, though Virgil still couldn’t quite parse the words. Despite his incoherence, the hand didn’t even twitch, no underlying threat to whatever it was they were saying to him. His breathing settled a bit despite himself. The implied promise that they weren’t going to outright attack him shouldn’t have been so reassuring, but it was.

His head slightly clearer, he slowly pushed himself back up to sit back on his heels, looking up to see who had found him.

It was undoubtedly Logan, though he’d never seen those glasses and tie at such a warped scale before. He could have figured it out earlier, if he’d just been listening; neither Roman nor Patton tended to be so carefully enunciated with their words.

Logan’s words, right. He was counting, which confused Virgil for a moment-- was this an experiment? Something to see how long the local idiot spent caught up in a panic attack when he was supposed to be a survival instinct-- until he caught on to the way Logan’s chest rose and fell along with the numbers. A breathing exercise.

He was kind of surprised, in that pleasant ‘pessimist-proven-wrong’ sort of way, but it figured that the Sides up here would offer even their captive literal time to breathe. He let himself follow along with the pattern for a few more moments before clearing his throat roughly and forcing himself to speak.

“Hey.”

Logan paused, looking down at him. “Hello.”

There was a short, slightly awkward pause, in which Logan seemed to flounder while Virgil refused to apologize for being kidnapped and reduced to doll size, even if he’d just had a completely image-ruining breakdown over it.

“Are you alright?” Logan finally settled on, his gaze piercing as it swept over him as though searching for injuries. “I apologize for not warning you, but I needed to stop you from recklessly endangering yourself. I didn’t intend for my actions to trigger a panic attack.”

“Yeah, who would freak out over some little old thing like being picked up by a giant hand,” Virgil snapped back sharply, his sarcasm coming out a little less biting than usual after such a draining attack. “It’s not like I’m the embodiment of Anxiety or anything.”

“You are Anxiety, though.” Logan shifted, the motion jarring his hand slightly, and Virgil barely managed to contain his flinch. “And as such, I’m surprised that you would entertain the idea of unnecessarily trying to fling yourself off of a considerable height at your size.”

Virgil squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. “Unnecessarily?”

“Clearly? I cannot imagine why your first solution would be to attempt something so risky, though it’s possible I’m missing some vital context,” Logan replied, his face scrunching up slightly in confusion. “Perhaps the others--,” he lifted a hand.

“Wait!” A surge of panic forced Virgil to his feet, but it was too late. The summons registered, and Creativity and Morality wasted virtually no time in rising up, both of them instantly looking to him instead of Logan.

“Anxiety!” they both cried, and they didn’t sound mad, but that didn’t really mean anything, did it?

They crowded forward, and Virgil couldn’t keep himself rigid this time, his whole body jerking back and bumping into Logan’s hand.The mixed signals-- hide versus get away-- left him frozen, cowering under that pitiful defense.

“Anxiety?” Patton tried, and the concern in his voice was enough to convince him to look up and meet the other Side’s gaze. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

“I’m stuck in a room with three giants, what do you think?” he spat automatically, his shoulders hunching up like they could protect him.

Patton’s mouth twisted in a sympathetic sort of way, and he moved to sit, scrunching his body down slightly so that he was more-or-less level with the table. “It’s all kind of overwhelming, huh?”

With a simple glance from the moral Side, Roman followed suit and Logan settled back on his heels, having already been kneeling. Virgil stared between the three of them, his skin prickling with nerves.

Behind him, Logan’s hand moved. Virgil immediately crouched, ducking his head down and lifting his arms in an ineffective attempt to ward off whatever was happening. There was a beat of silence, and when he glanced up, he found that Logan had simply retracted his hand, apparently convinced that Virgil wasn’t planning on a repeat of his escape attempt. Or that the three huge Sides surrounding Anxiety was enough of a cage in itself.

“We’re not going to hurt you, Jack and the Beanstalker,” Roman lied, doing an impressive job of sounding confused and harmless. “You’re not in the Subconscious anymore.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in Virgil, one that he didn’t bother to stifle. “Yeah, right. I’m not an idiot, Princey. Remus got you all twisted up over what he did and I was an asshole and now you’re paying the favor forward, I get it. You don’t have to lie about it.”

The three of them exchanged complicated glances, ones that admittedly looked more upset and horrified than conspiring, but Virgil refused to buy the act.

“We’re not lying to you!” Roman insisted, making Virgil scoff. Patton’s face started to take on that kicked-puppy cast, and Virgil averted his gaze, feeling hot anger bubble up in him at Patton’s involvement. How was any of this right and moral?

“I live with Deceit, you’re not going to fool me. Just get whatever you’re going to do to me over with,” he forced out, grimacing when his voice wobbled slightly at the end.

“Anxiety.” Logan leaned forwards, meeting his gaze with utmost seriousness. “Perhaps it will help if you understand our motives for your current state. Can you tell me how much you remember from our escape?”

“Remus found us and turned me into a pincushion,” Virgil deadpanned, a hand moving to settle over his gut. He knew now that he probably hadn’t discorporated, but he could still barely believe that there was no pain there. Core Sides could just do that? “And then you three decided to turn me pincushion-sized, I guess. How is that not revenge?”

“It was to save your life!” Roman cried dramatically, looking very put-out. “And to keep you from going back to the Subconscious and my brother, y’know, the guy who was tormenting us for fun!”

“To save my-- we can’t die!” Virgil snarled, pushing his complex feelings about Remus down in favor of twisting the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “You trapped me up here, no room, no powers, no height, and you expected me to be grateful?!”

“We weren’t trying to trap you,” Patton interjected, looking between him and Roman worriedly. “And we aren’t going to hurt you, I promise.”

Roman, who had drawn himself up in outraged offense, visibly deflated. “Patton’s right. You know he wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

Virgil hesitated despite himself.

“The problem of your current stature is one that we know how to fix,” Logan took the opportunity to add, fiddling with his tie. “Once you summon your room to this level of the mind, you will be able to find security and power within it, and we won’t bother you while you recover your lost energy.”

“Woah, woah,” Virgil held his hands up to stall further explanation, feeling thrown off. “Who said anything about putting my room up here?”

Roman raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “What, you want to be that size around a vengeful Remus?”

“I wouldn’t be this size if you hadn’t meddled!” Virgil snapped, scowling fiercely

“We weren’t going to just let you die,” Patton burst out, looking downright distraught. “You saved us. You didn’t want to rise up and you knew it would make your friends upset, but you did it anyhow. It wouldn’t be right, to just… not try to save you back!”

Virgil gaped for a moment, his next prepared retort completely upended. “No, I… that’s my job. Of course I did that. You don’t owe me for it.”

“Anxiety, Roman prevented your discorporation because he wanted to help you. Not to repay a perceived debt,” Logan informed him, his words stiff but genuine.

Roman shot Logan a look, heaving a dramatic sigh before turning back to Virgil. “All of us wanted to help, Gloomy B. Jones. Who wouldn’t choose to revive a party member who nearly perished heroically on a quest?”

In what universe was Roman calling him a hero? Inside his hoodie pocket, Virgil pinched himself, his confusion rising when everything refused to turn out to be a dream. Even a terrible plot twist like that would be more understandable to him than whatever was happening right now.

For that matter, they couldn’t really be implying what he thought they were implying.

“You really want me to pull my room up here. And be a… a core Side.”

Looking from face to face, he found no trace of anger or mockery, only earnestness. A genuine offer. He shook his head, his heart somehow racing even harder.

“What about when I have to do the other part of my job? The part you guys all hate me for?” he reminded them harshly. “I bet you won’t be so keen on my presence then.” He could easily imagine how well that would go over. Could a Side be cast out from both parts of the mind?

Patton shuffled forward a bit, his hands flapping like he wanted to reach out reassuringly but knew that Virgil would absolutely lose his shit if he even tried. “It’s like you said, kiddo. You want to keep Thomas safe, and we want that, too!”

“You’ve more than proven yourself willing to compromise when it counts,” Logan said, and then added wryly, “Statistically, the three of us already spend a fair amount of our time arguing before we come to a decision anyways.”

“Seriously?” Virgil asked, and Logan gestured to the necktie emphatically.

“That’s right! You may be as contrary as your jittery little heart desires, and you’ll still be in excellent company,” Roman piped up, gesturing to himself magnanimously. After a moment, he let the posturing fade into something more serious. “Anxiety, we don’t have to agree on everything for you to deserve better. Won’t you at least give us a chance?”

Virgil scrubbed his hands through his hair roughly, turning away despite his misgivings. Apart from that first incident with Logan, they hadn’t grabbed him, hadn’t even touched him despite knowing that he couldn’t do anything to stop them. At some point between that first disastrous meeting and now, they’d stopped treating him like an enemy.

He’d have to go back down there and explain at some point, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of not being repressed was one that seemed almost too good to be true. Deceit wouldn’t be happy, but maybe this would be the proof they all needed, that separating the Sides and hiding some of them from Thomas wasn’t working as well as they pretended it did.

It could be an opportunity. It could be… good.

“Alright,” he said, turning back to where they’d all been waiting, “I’ll pull my room up. I’ll-- I’ll try. That’s the best you’re going to get.”

And as the others cheered or smiled victoriously, he felt like maybe it was worth a shot after all.

#sanders sides #sanders sides g/t #sanders sides fic #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #remus and janus are mentioned #g/t #mvu #my virtues uncounted #my writing #writing

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

fall apart when it hurts too much

i had like three ideas for this fic so here’s all of them smashed together! ft. carlos and tk actually not being physically perfectly fine after being trapped in a fire, breakdowns in the shower, and an actual apology for that scene.

It's the smallest thing that breaks him, in the end. Ever since the fire, Carlos has been trying to keep a lid on everything, trying not to shatter even though he's been on the verge for hours now. He makes it to the shower, desperate to scrub the stench of smoke from his body, and then he just—

He drops the soap.

ao3 | 2.9k | 2.12 spoilers

Carlos barely makes it five steps from their house before his knees are hitting the tarmac, falling to all fours as his body heaves and shakes with coughing. He can’t catch his breath, and panic lights up in his chest, fingernails scrabbling at the ground despite the pain. Hands are on him, too big and rough to be TK’s, but Carlos doesn’t have a chance to work out who they belong to before they’re shifting under his arms, dragging him backwards even as their house explodes, a blast of intense heat washing over them.

If he had any breath left in him, Carlos is certain it would have abandoned him in that moment. Everything he’s spent years building for himself, all gone in the blink of an eye. It’s too much, and he collapses back down the second whoever’s holding him lets go. His eyes are streaming, a combination of irritation from the smoke, the tightness in his lungs, and a terror that he suspects won’t leave him for a long, long time.

He gasps, forehead pressed to the concrete, and then hands are on him again, but these—these, he knows. Carlos sags gratefully into TK’s arms, allowing him to pull him close and resting his head on TK’s chest, right above his heart.

He still can’t really breathe, and judging by the ragged gasps from above him, TK isn’t faring much better. But his heart is beating.

They’re alive.

Carlos closes his eyes, drifting away from himself as the fire continues to burn and the wail of sirens cut through the night air. TK curls his body around him and Carlos clings to that security with both hands. It means they made it out; somehow, they made it out.

TK’s lips press against his cheek, then his mouth shifts to his ear, voice rough yet still soothing when he speaks. “Baby, we need to move,” he says. “We gotta — They gotta check us out.”

Carlos feels himself nodding, but it’s the only movement he can manage. His entire body is trembling and his mind is frozen, replaying the last five minutes over and over on repeat.

God, had it only been five minutes?

“Come on.” TK tugs at his arm and, after a few tries, Carlos manages to get his limbs to cooperate long enough to begin to rise. A dizziness comes over him without warning and he stumbles, nearly pulling them both back to the ground; it occurs to Carlos that TK can’t be any more steady than he is. They’d been in there for the same time, after all.

Judd catches Carlos before he falls, and he sees through blurred vision Owen doing the same for TK. They’re led - or, rather, carried - to the ambulance, the flashing lights cutting through Carlos’s already pounding skull, and carefully lowered down onto the step. Unthinkingly, Carlos grabs TK’s hand, unsure if the tremor in the touch is coming from him or TK.

Oxygen masks are secured over both their faces and shock blankets wrapped around their shoulders, the soft material comforting. A kind-looking paramedic kneels in front of them, asking them questions about symptoms as she wraps burns Carlos didn’t even realise he’d acquired. He barely manages a nod or a head shake at the appropriate moments, his brain struggling to catch up with it all.

He’s so tired. All he wants is to be asleep in their bed, in TK’s arms, and for this to be a horrible nightmare he’s yet to wake from.

But their bed is gone. Their home is gone, ashes, only the twisted remnants of metal supporting beams left behind.

He’s shaking again, his chest constricting and causing him to cough despite the oxygen mask. Tears fall hot and fast down his cheeks and he practically falls onto TK, hands fisting in the blanket.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobs when he’s caught his breath enough to speak, pulling the mask down. “I’m so sorry.”

TK shushes him, hands running soothingly up and down his back. “It’s okay. This wasn’t your fault. We’re going to be okay.”

“But we almost weren’t.” He pulls back to meet TK’s eyes, the first time since Owen and Billy came bursting in. “I—I thought we weren’t going to make it. I should have had a fire extinguisher upstairs, this should never have… I...”

He cuts himself off, talking becoming an impossibility. TK cradles him close, kissing his head gently and whispering reassurances into his hair. Carlos hangs onto every word, not really believing them, but wanting to desperately.

By the time the paramedic ushers them into the ambulance, Carlos’s tears have eased, but the gaping pit in his chest has only grown.

He wishes he could wake up now.

They’re at the hospital for a few hours, run through a myriad of tests before they’re both declared fit to leave. A smiling nurse gives them the news, telling them that they’ll be home before they know it.

Neither of them have the energy or the ability to correct her.

Carlos’s parents come to pick them up, his mom producing a bag of fresh clothes for both of them. Where she got them from, Carlos doesn’t know, and he doesn’t ask. He hasn’t said much at all since the fire despite TK’s many attempts to get him to talk, leaning into the doctor’s advice not to do anything that might irritate his throat. He’s not sure what he’s even supposed to say; their house is gone, and that’s… That’s that.

His mom loops her arm through his and walks him through the corridors and out of the hospital. Carlos only half-listens to her talk about fixing up his room for them and what she’s planning on cooking for dinner tonight; he still feels the stench of smoke and ash clinging to his skin, even though they were able to clean up a little at the hospital. He itches with the need to wash it all off, to scrub until his skin cracks and bleeds and the pain eclipses that which lingers in his bones.

TK seems to sense how he’s feeling, constantly providing support in one form or another the entire drive to his parents’ house. Carlos feels guilty for not checking on him, but he’s seconds from shattering. If he tries to focus on anything other than holding himself together, he knows he’ll break.

He realises that makes him a shitty boyfriend, but… But.

His childhood home soon comes into view, a part of Carlos relaxing at the sight. He’s beyond grateful that they came here instead of going to Owen’s; he needs every comfort he can get right now, his mother’s cooking and his abuela’s stitched blanket second only to TK on that list.

He turns to TK as the car comes to a stop, squeezing his hand gently. “This isn’t how I’d imagined bringing you home for the first time,” he jokes, trying for a smile, but it falls flat. TK gives him a token smile anyway, the same weariness Carlos is feeling heavy in his gaze.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what teenage Carlos was like.”

“You already know,” Carlos points out. “I’m pretty sure my mom spilled every story there is the other night when we were… Well, you know.”

TK nods. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a mere whisper. Carlos doesn’t get it, how even the slightest thought of their house can send him spiralling, but he guesses that it’s just another thing he’ll have to deal with now. As if there wasn’t already enough.

He doesn’t get a chance to think on it any longer, his parents calling for them to come inside, his mother practically shoving the two of them upstairs. Carlos leads TK to his old room by the hand, the decorations almost untouched since he moved out.

“You can just…” He waves around, gesturing vaguely to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. I’m going to shower, you can go in after me if you want, or I won’t mind if you just want to sleep. Bathroom is the door at the end of the hall.”

TK chews on his lip, not letting go of Carlos’s hand just yet. “I can join you?” he offers, but Carlos shakes his head.

“It’s pretty small in there. Better not.”

TK doesn’t look like he believes him (and why would he? it is a lie, after all) but he nods and lets go. Carlos lingers for a second, then leaves, grabbing the bag of clothes his mom left on his way.

He manages to scrub himself fully once before it happens. There’s still a slight tremble to his hands as he reaches for the soap again, the feeling of being unclean sticking to him, and he just—

He drops the soap.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. Carlos stares at where it’s fallen, willing himself to just pick it up and carry on, because that would be the sensible thing to do, right? The normal thing?

But he can’t. Everything—the fire, the house, the goddamn soap—is suddenly all too much, and Carlos has to brace himself against the tiles as emotions he’s tried so hard to ignore pour out of him in a wave of grief and sorrow and despair. He presses his fist to his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, cries wrenching from his mouth, so loud that he doesn’t hear the gentle knocking at the door.

“Carlos?”

Carlos gasps, straightening as TK’s voice cuts through the noise. “I’m okay, I’ll just be a second,” he calls, but obviously he’s not convincing enough as the door creaks open, TK’s face falling when he catches sight of him.

“Oh, Carlos.”

TK steps into the room, silently undressing and stepping into the shower with him. He bends and grabs the soap from where it fell and creates a lather on his hands, looking to Carlos for permission before going any further.

Carlos wordlessly nods, so TK begins rubbing the suds over his body, touch soft and feather-light. They don’t say a word, and it’s not… It’s not relaxing, exactly - Carlos doesn’t think he can relax tonight - but it’s… It’s something. It means he’s not alone, which is all Carlos could ask for in this moment.

A slight pressure on his shoulder tells him to turn around, so Carlos puts his back to TK, facing the spray of the showerhead. He doesn’t know why, but not having to look at him makes it easier, somehow, to say the words that have been spinning in his mind since this nightmare began.

“I’m so sorry, TK,” he whispers. “If we had just had an extinguisher, then—”

“Then, nothing,” TK interrupts, not pausing in his motions. “I used to be a firefighter, Carlos; I know from experience that when a fire burns like that, nothing can stop it. My dad, Billy, and Judd all had extinguishers, and they barely made a dent.”

“I still should have done more. You were so calm, and I was just panicking.”

“Firefighter. I’ve been in plenty of burning buildings before; you haven’t. And, trust me, I was scared too.” TK sighs, his hands stilling on Carlos’s shoulders for a brief second before resuming. “Listen to me,” he whispers fiercely, planting a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You have nothing to apologise for, you hear me? Nothing.”

When Carlos wakes the next morning, TK is sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him, his hands twisting together in his lap. The set of his shoulders is tense, and Carlos can imagine the look on his face right now. He pushes himself up onto an elbow and reaches out, intending on comforting TK the way he’s done so many times over the course of their relationship.

What he’s not expecting is for TK to flinch away like his touch burns. Carlos frowns, sitting up fully and crawling over the bed to sit next to him. “Babe?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

TK shakes his head, subtly—though, not subtle enough—shifting away from him until there’s a clear gap between their bodies. It’s so far removed from last night when they could barely stand to let go of each other, and Carlos has no idea what’s causing it.

“TK?” he tries, keeping his hands to himself this time. “Please, TK, talk to me.”

It takes another agonising minute before TK finally, slowly, turns his gaze to Carlos. His eyes are wet and red-rimmed, and he can’t seem to look directly at him for longer than a few seconds. He clears his throat roughly, rubbing the material of his borrowed sweats between his fingers.

“Remember last night?” he says quietly. “When I said you had nothing to apologise for? I meant that—you don’t, but I do.” TK takes a trembling breath, then turns to him with a gasp. “Carlos, I—”

“Stop,” Carlos interrupts, shaking his head. He thought they’d moved past this; he doesn’t want to think about it anymore. “I already told you, it’s okay. You were in shock, you were angry… I get it, okay? You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Yes, I do.”

“TK—”

“Carlos, please.” A couple of tears slip down TK’s cheeks and he doesn’t bother to wipe them away, a desperate look in his eyes. Carlos hesitates, then sighs and nods, gesturing for him to continue. “Thank you. I… If I thought it meant anything, I would say that I’m sorry a thousand times over. I mean, I am, of course I am, but they’re just words, right? The same as saying I wish it had never happened in the first place, because the point is that it did happen and I can’t ever take it back. You had done nothing but support me, and I just—I hit you. There’s no excusing that. I don’t even know if there’s any forgiving that.”

Carlos frowns. “Of course there is.”

“Well, maybe there shouldn’t be.” TK looks down at his lap, shoulders curved inwards. “I wanted to use so badly that night,” he admits. “I was going out of my mind over my dad, and I’d convinced myself that I’d lost you. That I was going to lose you both. It was so tempting to go to the nearest bar or dealer and make it all go away for a while.

“Then I realised that I would only be hurting more people if I did, and I couldn’t do that. I’m not… This isn’t me trying to excuse what I did to you. You don’t deserve that, and I understand completely if you can’t trust me anymore, or even if you want me to leave. I’ll do it, whatever you want, just say the word. I can’t take it back, but I’ll do anything so that you feel safe.”

TK sniffs, his head bowed so low he’s almost folding in half. Carlos hesitates, then slowly reaches out, taking TK’s hands in his own. “TK, look at me?” he asks softly.

TK does, pain written all over his face, and it breaks Carlos’s heart again.

“I forgive you,” he says, squeezing as tight as he dares. “I forgive you. You might not think you deserve it, but I promise you that you do. I won’t pretend that what happened didn’t hurt me, but I understand why you did it.” He pauses, weighing his next words carefully before he speaks, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Not that he thinks TK will react like before again, but he refuses to make him feel any worse about the situation.

He makes sure he has TK’s eyes on him before speaking, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “But,” he starts, sighing heavily, “you are right. It’s not an excuse, and we are going to have to deal with this soon. Maybe not right now, but we need to have a conversation about these defence mechanisms of yours and how we can make sure you don’t feel the need to fall back on them again.”

TK nods. “I’m going to go to a meeting tomorrow, and I’ll talk to my therapist as soon as I can. I’ll… I’ll be better, Carlos, I swear.”

“I know you will.”

Carlos shifts closer so he can wrap an arm around TK. He stiffens at the touch, but slowly leans into it, carefully resting his head on Carlos’s shoulder.

“I don’t deserve this,” he mumbles.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Carlos counters.

TK snorts. “I think you’ve given me about thirty.”

“And you’ve deserved every single one.” He kisses the top of TK’s head and strokes his side. “I don’t think you could ever do anything bad enough to drive me away. That’s not who you are, TK. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but I love you and I will keep loving you even if you think I shouldn’t because I know my boyfriend and I know he’s a good man.”

TK sniffles, his arms coming up to wrap around him. He hesitates a second, a palm hovering over Carlos’s chest, trembling in mid-air as the seconds drag out. Carlos holds his breath, waiting, then smiles as TK slowly brings it down, letting it rest just over his heart.

The touch is light, barely there, but it’s something. It’s progress.

They’re both more than a little broken, more than a little hurt, but they can heal. They will heal, as long as they’re together.

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XIV

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part XI - - - - Part XII - - - - Part XIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Plo Koon woke to find himself chained in a dark room.

Somewhere behind him he could hear steady dripping; it was uncertain if that was deliberate or not.

He strained to discern anything in the dim light, but the walls of his prison refused to form into anything recognizable.

Cautiously, the trapped Master cast his senses out, only to find them reflected back at odd angles. He decided to wait before attempting to push any further past what his captor wished him to see.

Time passed strangely, but sooner than expected there was the sound of a pressurized airlock opening and, distantly, a raging ocean.

The airlock cycled through its rotation and Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the amorphous shadows looking...decidedly worse for the wear.

Plo ached at the sight. His normally carefully maintained beard was a scraggly mess. His robes hung tattered and bloodied. Of particular concern was how dry he looked, skin cracked and bleeding for want of water. The figure standing before him with a dead-eyed glare resembled less an accomplished Jedi Master and more the wretched husk of one.

“Who are you?” Obi-Wan's shade hissed. The chains around the Kel Dooran tightened.

Well, however he might view himself and others...at least he’s willing to fight to defend what remains? At the bare minimum he’s not acting intentionally self destructive...

“Good Morning, Obi-Wan. I am a Jedi Master and your friend. I have been attempting to reach you through your rather impressive shielding. I must say, you’ve done a remarkable job confining me in this mental construct, its been sometime since anyone has managed to get the best of me in this arena.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Don’t try and flatter me, you barely fought back. You could easily have forced your way anywhere, but for some reason you let me corral you, presumably to try and gain my trust. Now answer my question. Your presence is very much light so I doubt you’re Sidious or...Vader. I could be wrong obviously, but i can’t see either of themselves putting this much effort into that sort of mask...just tell me who you are, and why you’re with them.”

“I am Master Plo Koon, a High Council Member, and I am not unknown to you” he elaborated without hesitation. “I am glad that you can identify that I am a light force user. Can you not sense familiarity within my force presence, even so far within your domain?”

Obi-Wan reared back and the dripping noise in the corner stopped.

“It’s a trick. We might be in my head but that doesn’t mean I’m surrendering any of my thoughts to you,” Obi-Wan snarled. “I felt Plo Koon’s death, he was one of the first...and even if he somehow survived he would never work with the Sith to invade my mind. Never.”

“Obi-Wan. Listen to me. Please. I am not dead. I am not working with the Sith. I was brought in to reach you because no other method was working. You are in the healing halls at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” Plo spoke calmly, but implacably, “We believe you have either experienced a uniquely detailed vision, or a run in with a dark-sider. Whatever has happened, I can feel the lingering impression of unsafety. But here and now, you are not in any immediate physical danger. There must be something I can do to convince you of your present physical location.”

“A uniquely detailed vision, huh? ha!” Obi-Wan replied, gesturing wildly. “Ha! You expect me to believe that what, the last four years of my life were a detailed prophecy? Why?”

“You...believe you have lived years beyond the rest of us. I take it the- what you remember has been dangerous enough to warrant maintaining abnormally tight control over your mental walls, precluding simply reaching out to ascertain the truth yourself.”

“Clearly my control wasn’t enough if you’re in here.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I do apologize for the intrusion, but we’ve already used every other tool at our disposal to reach you. I repeat, is there anything that can be done to convince you that you are, from your perspective, ‘in the past’. You are a High Council member with a grandpadawan. It’s been two years since the start of the clone wars. You recently finished an extended clean up of the Mon Cala sector after your victory.”

Obi-Wan stared at him curiously. “If I set a test and you fail, will you agree to dispense with the pretenses?”

Plo-Koon hesitated. “Perhaps I’m making this deal in bad faith, as I am know I am Plo-Koon, and that everything I have said is the truth... but I swear that if you somehow prove that neither of those things are true and I am secretly working for a sith lord, I will...reveal that.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Best I’m going to get, I suppose.”

The chains holding Plo-Koon loosened. Before he could respond, there was a hurtling rising sensation that he struggled not to fight against. After a disorienting moment, he found himself in his own body, feeling vaguely seasick. Obi-Wan blinked awake, apparently unfazed by the precautionary bonds holding him in place. Master Aerdo’s gaze flicked between them intensely. Plo-Koon held up a clawed hand to forestall any interruption while the two gained their bearings.

Obi-Wan spoke first:

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation”

“...What?” Koon replied, honestly confused.

“Cihynglo was a renowned Kashykian Jedi, her mediations are, well i suppose were considered a quintessential example of High Republic cosmic poetry.”

“I’m familiar with Cihynglo- my master used to speak of her fondly.” Plo Koon said slowly. “Though I can’t say I’m familiar with her Fourth Mediation.”

“Hmm. Yes, well her poetry in the last few decades of her life got increasingly, well, esoteric. While most of her work was widely translated and distributed, she requested that those who wished to read her fourth Meditations do so in person, so as to experience without dilution the full calligraphy and artwork that accompanied her words. She only ever produced two copies. Any guesses where they were kept?”

Obi-Wan’s voice started out in the steady tones of a born lecturer, only to grow bitter towards the end.

“Is one in the temple?” Master Koon asked.

“Yes, one was held in the Master’s wing of the temple archives. The other was housed in a place of honor in The White Forest’s Great Tree of Knowledge. Considering both libraries were reduced to ash in the first month of the Empire, it is quite impossible, even for the Emperor, to find a copy.”

His vague attempt at a smirk quickly fell flat.

“I was privileged enough to be granted time to begin reading it once, but, alas, an emergency situation in the intergalactic war you created meant that I had to run off mid-sonnet. Bring me that book, let me hold it, read it, and I will believe that I somehow unlocked the secret of time-travel while overdosing on Spice.”

Obi-Wan paused, catching his breath. “In the next fifteen minutes, please. Any more than that and you might try tracking down the few surviving Wookie scholars.” Koon flipped open his comm. “Master Nu, I have an urgent request.”

“Nu here, go on,” came the response.

“This may sound strange, but it is crucial that Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation be brought to the healing halls, room seven. Within the next 15 minutes.”

“You do understand you’re talking about a physical book, not a flimsi-stack or a holocron. It’s not meant to leave a climate-controlled room.”

“I promise you, I would not ask if it weren’t life or death. Please Jocasta, I’ll explain later.”

“I’ll be there in 10. It had better be one durned good explanation.”

Obi-Wan looked bemused. ”You’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“I am glad you were able to come up with a test you found meaningful. Remember, you have friends here, regardless of whether you experienced subjective time travel or an incredibly detailed vision.”

They waited a little longer. Obi-Wan critically examined Master Aerdo.

“I’m a Senior Soul Healer” they offered at the non-verbal prompting.

“How interesting.” Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

They sat in awkward silence for another minute.

They were all equally trained in suppressing fidgets, coughs, or other nervous tics, which made the wait that slightest bit more unbearable, each second nearly imperceptible from the one before.

Eventually the sound of heavy boots moving at speed approached.

Master Nu strode in, gently cradling a great burden. The book gleamed large and vital in the light of its stasis wrap. Her eyes widened at they took in Obi-Wan, still cuffed to the bed.

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation, as asked for. I trust you have an excellent explanation for how a book of poetry is a matter of life or death.”

“I’m hoping that it will convince our friend Master Kenobi that I am who I claim to be and we are where I claim we are.” Koon gently pulled the book from her grasp and reverently placed it on Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“Obi-Wan, I’m going to uncuff you now. I trust that you will use your freedom to examine our ‘proof.’ We will physically intercede if you make any attempts at self harm.”

Master Nu gasped. “Then the temple rumors...I don’t understand.”

Obi Wan picked up the book as if he was afraid it might bite him. With an irritated snort, he opened brusquely to the middle, and began carelessly flipping ahead.

Master Nu started forward, offended, but Plo Koon held her back. “Please Master Nu, patience-”

Finally Obi-Wan seemed to reach the page he was looking for and stopped. “..And still the rain fell like blood of the womb” he murmured. “That...I tried to think of how the line ended but I...”

Everyone watched as the book shook in Obi-Wan's grasp. He turned the page, gasping slightly and murmuring as he read. “This is...a little gross, but oddly touching. I certainly would not have come up with it myself...but its so clearly...” They watched his react, eyes darting wildly and brow furrowing in confusion.

Several pages later he dropped the book abruptly.

“This is impossible,” he gasped.

Nu darted forward, carefully snatching it from his lap, "I am endeavoring to practice tolerance, but how is destroying an irreplaceable piece of literature supposed to help anyone?!” she snapped

“I admit I wondered that myself, but when I imagined what harm the Sith could do with some of the archive’s more practical works, I understood your decision to torch the collection” Obi-Wan responded dreamily. “I suppose the more beautific works would likely have been destroyed anyway...”

“Torch the archives? I would never.”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan insisted feverishly. “I found your message when we searching for survivors. There were so many bodies piled at the archive door that I was almost hopeful that they had managed to...but I suppose they held out just long enough for you to complete your task.”

Nu backed away slowly. “That sounds like quite the disturbing vision, Master Kenobi.”

“It wasn’t just a vision, it was my life. It-visions don’t last years!” he said, finally growing hysterical. “I remember everything! That gods-awful mission to Cato Nemodia! Getting takeout food with Anakin! The smell of burning flesh in the creche! Singing to Luke! The last year of the war! All of you! You crying after Dooku’s death,” he added gesturing wildly at the archivist. “It was so awkward! You were embarrassed! You told me that for some stupid reason you had ‘held out hope’ it was all an insane uncover mission, that he wasn’t really- Three years alone in the desert! I remember three years of living on fucking Tatooine, how could that possibly be a vision!”

“I...hadn’t told anyone that,” Nu whispered with a hint of alarm. She glanced at Plo Koon, daring him to comment. “I know its very much unlikely at this point, and by any measure, he’s taken things too far, but he’s gone on such long shadow missions in the past...” she looked away.

“Oh, Jocasta...” Plo sighed.

“Master Kenobi. I cannot explain how you came to have such detailed knowledge of the future,” Aerdo said, drawing focus back to the bewildered Obi-Wan, who had shifted into a defensive crouch on the bed. “But I do know one reasonably sure fire way to establish that this, us, is the present. Open yourself up to the force, please, just let yourself listen to what it has to say.

“I...want to, of course I want to believe- but the idea that I’m here- it’s, if you’re real than you can’t possibly understand, its too good to be true.” Obi-Wan responded brokenly.

“I know things have been clouded of late, but, if nothing else trust in the force to not lie to you.” Plo-Koon urged. “If you keep closing yourself off like this, how can you possibly learn if things are better than you think”

Obi-Wan collapsed from his crouch, knees folding underneath.

“If I am...even if I am in the past... Sideous might be watching...i didn’t- i don’t know the extent of his gaze- even if...” he trailed off.

“If it makes you feel safer, you are of course free to again raise your shields to whatever extent you feel necessary once you have verified your reality.” Aerdo replied smoothly.

Obi-Wan looked warily at the three Jedi in the room.“I...” he started, trying to articulate the swelling hope and fear only to find himself at a loss for words.

Aerdo shot him a reassuring smile, “If you don’t feel ready right now, that’s perfectly understandable. We’re very happy you’re willing to reach out as much as you have already. Would you like to pause this discussion for now so we can find you something to eat? I believe a simple broth is a customary first post-bacta meal, but if you have any special requests I’ll do what I can.”

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands. “I- I need to know, don’t I?” he mumbled. “Force help me...you win.” He took one last, searching look at the faces of his fellow Jedi before closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the force.

He opened a small hole in his mental barricades and tentatively allowed his thoughts to drip out. Tentatively, he trickled over the bank of Plo Koon’s being (expecting a frigid burn) only to find a warm and heartbreakingly familiar pool of tempered kindness.

He ran, slightly faster now, over the other Jedi presences in the room. Having finished his course without encountering any dark undertow, he ebbed back. There was an indistinct impression of something heavy giving way.

Obi-Wan’s Shields Fell Like A Dam Beneath a Tidal Wave -

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #time travel #starwars #star wars fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #fix-it

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mageofseven · 4 years

Note

Hi I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your writing! I have a little request if you don’t mind. The brothers (and undateables I’d you want to) finding MC bruised and beaten and later discovering they got into a fight with another demon. Thank you in advance if you decide to write this!

Awww thank you so much! I might end up doing the Undateables in another post, but I'll just stick to the Brothers for this one.

And thanks for requesting 😊

TWs: violence, vague s*xual assault

Spoiler warning: 1st year spoilers in Lucifer's and vaguely in Belphie's section

Lucifer:

Was checking out the area under Diavolo's orders.

Apparently there have been some people sneaking around in the old Colosseum and normal methods to keep other demons away from the historical landmark have been futile.

That and word has made it's way that some criminals have been using the place to secretly make dealings

So when he got there, he had expected to find some such people lurking around

Instead he found MC on the ground in the center, bruised and bleeding with their arm bent in a very concerning way.

He rushed up to them, calling their name and checking them for signs of life.

Honestly, the man was having major flashbacks to the day he lost his sister.

This was exactly where Lilith fell and Lucifer had to watch his sister, all broken and in pain until Diavolo came and he had to make the deal that changed everything

The deal that eventually led to MC's existence

Yet here they were now, in exactly the same place and state and the demon couldn't help but break down for a minute with panic he tried so hard to conceal.

The human let out a groan and the man could only sigh in relief.

"MC, oh thank the Devil..."

"Luce...?"

"You'll be alright." He promised. "I'll take you over to have Simeon heal you."

Despite the internal panic and flashbacks of such a traumatic event, he still handled the situation well.

Once MC was all healed up, he asked them what happened.

Apparently, they found a note that someone had stuffed in their school bag, asking for them to meet at the Colosseum.

They thought it was weird, but curiosity had gotten the better of them so they went and were attacked while exploring the ancient building.

The demon had meant to kill her, but sensed Lucifer approaching so they dropped the human and ran for it.

Ends up getting as much info from them about the attacker as he can.

Even if MC doesn't want the demon to die for what they did, they get no say in the matter.

Because of their status as exchange student, this attack is a political issue and the consequences Lord Diavolo warned his people about originally must be put into play.

Politics aside though, Lucifer would never let any being who hurt MC get away with it.

Becomes a lot stricter with what they can and cannot do

Like, they're not even allowed to go for a walk around the block without either him or his brothers accompanying them.

Even changes up their class schedule to make sure they have at least one of his brothers with them per class and they even have to walk MC to their next one.

Any arguments about this from MC or the brothers fall on deaf ears.

He will never let anyone lay a hand on them again.

Mammon:

School day had ended and he was on his way to pick MC up from their class.

Since Lucifer decided the day they came that he was responsible for their safety, he always had to do stuff like this.

He was late today though since his teacher held him back after class.

Blah blah F on the test, blahh blah summer school, blaah blahh blaaaah. Whatever man; he wasn't listening

And because of them, he was late. So much so that when he arrived at the human's classroom, they weren't there.

Lowkey panicked.

Shit. Shit shit shit, where'd they go???

Practically runs in the halls trying to find them

Knows Lucifer will have his head for this if he can't track 'em down.

Ends up hearing some kind of ruckus in the courtyard

And finds a big group of students forming a circle and chanting "Fight!"

"Oh yell!" Is momentarily distracted from his problem and joins the group. "Fight! Fight! Fight--."

Oh shit. That's his human in the circle!

Mammon's brain just started buffering as he watched MC dodge and weave, even getting some good hits in. The second brother was actually pretty impressed.

The lower demon in the fight eventually lost his footing and fell to the ground, giving an opening for MC to give a big kick between his legs and the demon let out a shrill scream. His green skin started smoking and changed to grey as it hardened and suddenly seemed more like stone than a person.

The circle of students started cheering and Mammon's jaw practically hit the floor.

Holy shit, the human did it!

MC fell the ground, panting heavily and bruised from head to toe.

Mammon finally rushed up to them.

"Damn, MC! You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

All of a sudden, some students started running and others just quickly jumped back, revealing Lucifer and Diavolo.

....yep, he's dead.

The two older demons started asking MC questions as they caught their breath and Mammon tried to sneak away.

Lucifer grabbed his brother by his jacket, but otherwise paid him no mind as MC told their tale.

Apparently this demon that sits behind them in their Devildom History class had been giving them crap for a while; calling them names and pushing them around. Today they even started touching them in places that made them wanna break the demon's hand.

MC snapped and told them such. The demon only grinned. Honestly, he was probably waiting for them to say that.

From there, he dragged them out by their hair and the rest is rather obvious.

Diavolo had some of his men carry the demon away. Apparently, the stone-like skin is defense mechanism, essentially the equivalent of a turtle hiding in their shells for that sub-race of demon.

The prince assured MC that the demon will be dealt with and tasked Lucifer with getting them healed up.

Mammon was hung upside down from the roof for a few hours for letting this happen, but MC was patched up and okay in the end.

Leviathan:

He usually buys all of his otaku stuff off of Akuzon

But occasionally, he likes to go out and by manga at this store downtown.

It's a once in a blue moon sort of thing, but he still does it

MC felt like taking a walk so they joined him

The two explored the shop as Levi fanboyed about seemingly every other series he passed.

The otaku had already started a pile of manga he planned to buy.

He didn't even notice when MC left his side until he approached the counter to pay

Boy just assumes you bailed on him at first and sinks into self-loathing mode

Until he heard a scream from outside.

He abandoned his manga and raced out, just in time to see another demon run for it and MC leaning against the building.

Their right arm was bleeding from the holes and claw marks made into it.

The third brother started freaking out and rushed them home, even leaving his books there.

When they get back, Lucifer patches them up with a first aid kit and a little bit of a potion.

MC explains how they were shopping with Levi when all of a sudden they saw Beel outside the store waving at them

She went out to talk to him, but then suddenly, it wasn't Beel anymore.

Apparently, it was a shapeshifting demon and, since they specifically choose Beel's form to take, Lucifer assumed that they must have been watching them for a while and planning this attack. They likely chose Beel because they knew he was someone MC would let their guard around.

Levi felt like crap for letting them get hurt, but MC said it was their fault for being tricked.

Lucifer decided it was both their faults and gave them both a long lecture

Satan:

The fourth brother invited MC out for coffee

The blonde actually really likes the atmosphere of coffee shops and wanted to share it with them

The two ordered their coffee and sat at their table while talking about books. He recently read a book on artic fauna from the human world and was comparing the information he read with their own knowledge

It was a very relaxing experience like most of MC's quality with Satan.

Before the two of left, MC had to stop in the restroom.

That demon waited patiently for the human at their table, but when almost ten minutes went by, he became a bit annoyed and puzzled.

Not wanting to be rude, but also ready to leave, Satan approached the bathroom door

He paused mid knock when her heard a low growl followed by a cry from MC

Now in his demon form, the blonde kicked the door off its hinges. It wasn't locked or anything, but the man was super pissed.

Found a demon pressing MC, who had a gash in their head, against the opposite wall

'An eye for an eye' is more or less the philosophy he followed here, or rather, a head for a head.

He took the demon and slammed his head into another wall over and over again.

MC had to run up and tell him to stop after the other demon passed out.

They left the demon on the floor of the bathroom and Satan, with his arms around MC to keep them close, headed back to House of Lamentation

The human didn't want the other brothers to see them like this and worry so Satan snuck them into his room and went to get the first aid kit.

It was quiet between the two as he patched them up.

"I'm sorry for scaring you." He said as he finished with their stitches. "Seeing you hurt like that just made my blood boil. They deserved it, but you shouldn't have had to watch."

"It's okay... thank you for saving me."

The two spent the rest of the night huddled together in his room, reading and just settling down from the incident.

Asmodeus:

Shopping trip!

Asmo was a bit too enthusiastic about it, but that's part of why MC was all too willing to go

He mainly just wanted to see MC in cute outfits, but also bought a few for himself

Any self-consciousness MC might feel on her own is long gone when they spend time with him. He's always hyping them up and complimenting them and overall making them feel beautiful.

Time spent with Asmo is always a good time and well spent.

The fifth brother does actually leave their side for a bit after they found someone hot to flirt with

MC didn't mind and just let the Avatar of Lust do his thing as they continued to look through the racks.

At some point a very good looking demon approached them and started flirting with them

It became obvious that this dude was one of Asmo's demons, another demon of lust

Even with this in mind though, their attention really did make the human feel special, even if they probably said such sweet words to everyone

MC underestimated the demon, thinking that just because Asmo wasn't the aggressive sort that the demons under him wouldn't be either

Ends up following him out of the store and makes out with him against the wall of the building

They didn't understand why they were doing this, but the human's mind had been feeling foggy for a while now.

Suddenly, MC's whole body started to feel heavy and they were so dizzy that their vision was just a blur

Ends up passing out and waking up a few minutes later to Asmo crying as he stood over them and begging them to wake up

"Azzy?"

The man threw his arms around them.

Finds out that the fifth brother went looking for them when he saw that they weren't in the store anymore. He came outside just in time to see one of his underlings try to suck their soul out of their body.

As soon as they heard their superior's voice though, they dropped the human and ran.

The two went straight home and Asmo was extra clingy with them for the rest of the day.

Beelzebub:

The two of them went together to Madam Screams since they were both craving sweets.

Beel was really hungering for a cherry pit pie (though of course he planned on order other things as well) while MC was really hankering for some chocodevil cake.

The two happily got in line to pick out their treats, but MC stepped out to get a clearer view of the case with all of the treats to see if they wanted anything different instead.

Ends up getting attacked by a famished, minor demon of gluttony and slammed down on the glass case containing the sweets.

Beel jumped into gear; he changed into his demon form and threw the other demon off of them.

During the skirmish, the two ended up breaking down a wall and crushing three tables.

When the fight ended, the big guy rushed up to MC to make sure they're okay.

The human was bleeding and had a lot of glass shards embedded in their back and arms.

Though worried, the sweet boy keeps himself together and carefully takes out the bigger shards.

Rushes them home, treats forgotten.

Once home, Lucifer is the one who gets the rest of the glass out of their back and cleans up their wounds.

Beel stays by their side and lets them squeeze their hand when Luce's clean up hurts too much.

Luce gives his younger brother a lecture for all the stuff he had broken back at Madam Screams, but is surprisingly lenient with him.

The older brother didn't say it (and honestly, he should have), but he was proud of his brother for stepping up and protecting MC, but at the same time, expected nothing less from him.

Yeah, Lucifer will likely get sent the bill, but MC's safety is more important.

Belphegor:

Belphie had fallen asleep during class; no surprise there.

The rest of the students left the room when class ended, but the seventh brother continued to sleep at his desk.

MC found his sleeping face cute and didn't want to wake the demon

So instead, they hung around the classroom, waiting for the Avatar of Sloth to awake; the school day was over and the classroom wasn't going to be used for anything else so they thought there'd be no harm in hanging around.

Sadly, they were wrong.

Another student, a jerk from their Seductive Speechcraft class had waited for them to leave the classroom in order to harass them, but when they didn't come out, he came in.

Eventually had them backed up against the wall and forcing their hand up their shirt, causing the human to yelp.

He tried covering their mouth with his other hand, but MC bit them, angering the demon and leading them to putting their hands around their throat as he yelled at them.

The entire time, the minor demon never saw the Avatar of Sloth sleeping at his desk.

Big mistake.

Belphie woke up and saw the scene before him, turning into his demon form real quick.

Didn't hesitate to grab a hold of the bastard and make him let go of MC, who was now gasping for much needed air.

The seventh brother used his miasma aura to weaken the demon as he was now the one doing the choking with the lower demon.

MC covered their face and cried in their corner on the floor.

It was too similar to That Night™️ and the human was bordering on panic attack because of it.

Once the minor demon passed out, Belphie turned and saw MC crying on the floor.

He rushed up to them, but stopped once MC started screaming and begging for him to stay back.

That look in their eyes... it was the same fearful look he remembered from That Night™️

And it killed Belphie inside because he never wanted them to be scared of him ever again.

He waited for the human to calm down and, with their permission, slowly approached them.

He wanted to hug them, but was afraid that they'd just be reminded of it even more so he held back.

Surprising him, the human hugged him instead.

He held them tight for as long as they needed and started to notice the bruises forming on their neck

The two went home after that and reported the incident to Lucifer before Belphie dragged MC with him for a nap.

He chose Beel and his' room since he knew the attic would probably be too much for them right now.

Cuddled close to them and apologized for all of it. For falling asleep and leaving them defenseless. For the other demon's attack. For scarying them. Above all, that he was sorry for That Night™️

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

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zevlors-tail · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!”

A/N: I can’t believe I just wrote this in one sitting. I know I’m super behind on Febuwhump, yikes...but I think this turned out pretty well! This got longer than I meant it to be, but then, so did most of the prompts in my drafts that I have for this month. This is actually my first time purposefully writing whump so I hope this was okay! Unedited btw, i’ll read it over in the morning.

TW: Burning building, explosions, second degree burns, mentions/descriptions of burn wounds, life or death situation, building collapse, concussed reader.

***

The first thing Hawks notices when he comes to is the foul taste in his mouth. It causes him to gag and cough with his eyes still closed, though that doesn’t help his situation much if at all. The smell of something burning sears the inside of his nostrils and clogs his lungs, and he finds it incredibly hard to breathe as he rolls over onto his side, eyes finally fluttering open.

The second thing he becomes acutely aware of is how hot he is. No...how hot the floor is. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to recall what he was doing down there anyways. If only that incessantly annoying ringing in his ears would stop-

Wait. Wait a minute...

An image of you flashes behind his eyelids as he blinks them shut harshly to block out the billowing cloud of smoke filling the room, and it all comes back to him in a whirlwind.

There were villains. High class villains. Not your every day run of the mill villains, but villains who could really pack a punch when fighting back. They had been occupying a small skyscraper at the time as their headquarters, and you and Hawks had partnered up to take them down after months of steak outs and observation. But something had gone wrong...very wrong. Those details were still a bit blurry, but Hawks remembers something akin to an explosion- a loud noise, the building shaking, and a blast that knocked him unconscious.

All of the sudden he’s hyper aware of what’s going on- and he realizes he needs to move fast if he’s going to get out of here alive. He’s at least twenty stories up in the air on unstable structures, his feathers and hair are singed, and his head is foggy after inhaling too much smoke. Luckily he can still move, and it doesn’t look like he’s been burned too severely, at least not yet. But the flames licking at the bottom of the closed door in front of him cause alarm bells to scream out in his head, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to think. He needs to find you so he can grab you and-

Ohhh, shit.

As he rolls over onto his other side, he can make out the outline of a figure lying on the floor, and he’s almost certain it’s you. None of the villains stuck around after blowing the place up anyways, and he can just barely see the dulled colors of your hero suit behind the thick screen of smoke.

“Fuck! Oh god, Y/N.”

You’re lying too still for your own good, and Hawks thinks he can see the beginning of what he can only assume to be fire slowly eating at the wall next to you. He wastes no time and flattens himself on his stomach, army crawling in your general direction to avoid the worst of the putrid air. It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing. He ignores the uncomfortable heat of his body and pushes onward, his movements still a little sluggish from getting knocked out cold. He’s not entirely sure if he can even use his feathers right now while they’re this singed, and furthermore, he hopes his wings aren’t completely out of commission; he’s going to need those if the both of you are going to make it out of this alive.

“Y/N!” he tries to shout, though it ends in a horrible sounding cough that comes from deep in his chest. As he draws nearer, he hears what sounds like creaking coming from above the two of you, and to his utter horror, the support beams under floor above you have burnt to a crisp and look like they’re ready to collapse any second. It had to have been a sheer miracle that the two of you weren’t already engulfed in flames yourselves. “Y/N! Come on, kid, you gotta get up! Move!”

Even as he tries to urgently get your attention his body seems to move on it’s own accord, and before he can stop himself, he sends a few feathers your way out of habit and concern that you might be crushed any second if he doesn’t move you somehow. It hurts like hell, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. This is by far the worst he’s felt when using his feathers, but it does pay off, and you’re lucky that he made the split decision to move you- no sooner had he scrambled back with you had the ceiling collapsed into the floor.

He turns to you while staying low to the ground, shaking you desperately and firmly smacking the side of your face with his hand in hopes of interrupting your forced slumber. It works but just barely, and Hawks watches as you try to take a deep breath but end up choking just as he had. He gives you a once-over while you struggle to breathe, eyes flitting over your form to assess any damage you may have taken- and to his dismay, there seems to be a good amount of it. The entire left side of your hero outfit is singed, bits of the fabric even burnt into your skin in certain places where the heat must have been too strong. You hadn’t been able to move away or protect yourself in your sleep, and the burns on your arm and leg can definitely attest to that. They’re second degree, at least; some of the fire must have actually made contact with your skin.

“Oh, fuck- Hey, look at me. Y/N, focus here!”

He leans over you to look at your eyes, and he doesn’t have to shine a light in them or have you follow his finger to know that you hit your head a little too hard. They’re glossy and unfocused, and you can’t find a single place on his face to fixate on. You just keep looking all over, and Hawks can clearly tell your concussed.

Fucking great. He’s got to get you both out, and now.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” He nervously awaits an answer with eyes trained on you, and the second you start to talk he lets out a small breath of short-lived relief.

“Hawks...? Wha...” You look so out of it and dazed.

“So that’s a yes, thank god...” Before you try to ask anything else, he stops you in your tracks and shakes his head at you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- take it easy, alright? No questions, I just need you to listen and keep talking to me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about, I just need to know you’re awake and alive-” He pauses briefly to look around for something, anything he can do to escape.

There’s the door you both came from, the one that’s barely holding back the raging heat behind it- that’s a no-go. No way in hell is he trying to brave that. His wings won’t last five seconds in that, and you don’t have the means to protect yourself while you’re concussed. Another option is to try and escape through the hole in the floor that the ceiling caused...but that’s way too risky for the both of you as is, and it looks like flames are starting to creep in from that way, too. If he is going to take that route, he needs to do it soon. Maybe he can get to a staircase, or find a-

The sound of you moaning in pain cuts through his thoughts and his head whips back in your direction to find you grimacing and trying to move. “Ah ah- Don’t do that. Just keep talking, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta keep talkin’ to me. I’m gonna get us out of this mess, somehow...”

Panic starts to set in as he realizes his options are limited. Terror grips him in it’s icy stone-cold jaws as he comes to the conclusion that his odds of survival are even worse.

“Hawks...it hur’s...” All you can do is roll your head back and forth and try to move, but your body just won’t cooperate with your mind.

“Fuck. Fuck! I know, I know...” His teeth grit together as he thinks, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Adrenaline is starting to kick in, and he’s desperate for anything at this point.

He still has no plan in mind when he makes another split second decision to move you from where you’re currently laying. The fire is only spreading up onto the carpeted floor the two of you are on, and the smoke is getting worse by the second; this room is a hot box with no ventilation at this point. He carefully picks you up and cradles you to his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you to both support your frame and shield you from the onslaught of unbearable heat. It forces him to take a few steps back, and he does his best to navigate through a screen of black without bumping into any furniture. He almost trips several times, but eventually he hits the opposite wall. Or, rather...

A window. Bingo.

“S’ tired...” you mumble. Your eyes are already fluttering, rolling to the back of your head as your limbs grow heavy in his arms.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep! Y/N!? Come on, stay awake!”

“C’n we go...home now?”

He doesn’t like how ragged your breathing sounds.

He almost chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, but his lungs are already full of tainted air to laugh, let alone breathe properly, so he scoffs instead- and instantly regrets it. Between fits of coughs, he presses his shoulder to the glass behind you both to test the temperature, and it’s much hotter than it should be. Part of the glass is already blown out to his right, but there’s not enough space to crawl out without the jagged edges of it tearing up his flesh and wings. But if he could somehow break it...

His feathers. He’ll have to use up more of them, but if he uses the bare minimum necessary to break the glass and saves the majority, he may be able to make it out the window and fly you both to safety.

“We can’t go home yet,” he chokes out in response to you, finally. “I’m gonna get you out of here, and then you’re on your way to the hospital, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.”

He knows that to be true, so long as he can actually manage this. He backs up as far as he can go without subjecting either of you to the hot flames now openly invading the room, the entryway having burnt to a crisp already. From where he stands now, he hopes there’s enough distance to create the amount of force needed to shatter that damn glass. After a quick estimate of how many feathers he can get away with using, he readies them, and it all boils down this moment. If he can’t do this, you’ll both die. Both of your lives are at stake, resting on his weary shoulders. He can do this.

He has to.

“Wanna go home...wanna go...” You’re just murmuring to yourself, and it really puts Hawks on edge.

He hears the glass shatter before he sees it. He stumbles forward, wings still securely wrapped around you, and all but falls out of the edge of the window right before the rest of the floor collapses in on itself. He hears the devastation behind him, feels sparks on his back where the holes of his shirt meet the beginnings of his wings. He knows if he had hesitated or stayed any longer, neither of you would be alive right now.

Replacing his hold on you with his arms, he lets his wings drift open and prays he didn’t overdo it with the feathers, begs whatever gods may be listening that the two of you can at least slow the fall somehow. And to his pure joy and bliss, his wings, though bleeding and burnt and painful, are still very much holding up and allowing him to fly.

Now if he can manage to get you to a hospital...you’ll be just fine.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday8 #febuwhump2021 #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #whump #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks #keigo takami #keigo

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

In With The New, Out With The Old

Hotch packing Jack up for college

None of it feels real.

For two years after he and Haley divorced he lived in an apartment of boxes. It was some sort of punishment he created for himself while also creating a dissonance he could be lost in -- that he didn’t need to unpack just in case. He had his suits in the closet, his work would not take the fall for his personal life’s failings. The coffee maker sat on the counter, one of the only appliances hooked into a light socket. The necessities followed -- two mugs for coffee, a glass tumbler for the whiskey sitting on the counter, and one plate for when he ordered take-out he couldn’t just eat out of the box.

It had taken him months to buy a mattress, he was perfectly miserable sleeping on the couch. He had only taken Jack to the apartment once, needing to switch into more park-appropriate clothing. Between them, he and Haley agreed that the best thing for Jack was consistency so he would spend all day with Hotch but he would always go home to Haley. He knew this could be used against him in court, Haley could take Jack from his so easily it terrified him but he also knew he’d let her. He was more powerful, he had more strings to pull and more people on his side but the thought of getting on the stand and having his friends call her a bad mother made him feel even worse. So he knew that if it came down to it, he would let Haley have Jack rather put either of them that sort of grueling case.

This was a shared thought between them. Both are aware of the other’s power over the other. Neither will act on their own.

He had only bought a mattress because of New York. Limping home he’d sunk down into his old faithful couch only to wake up the next morning with achingly stiff sutures in his leg and his face stuck to a throw pillow, the blood drying like glue. He had to call Emily and Derek that afternoon. Unable to drive himself with his concussion and consequential blurred vision Emily had come over to pick him up, never said a word about what he’d been sleeping on in the months before. Neither did Derek when Hotch got too dizzy coming up the stairs, the stitches in his leg bleeding through his jeans and so pale Emily had to hold him upright to get him to the bench in the lobby. He was left there, listening to Derek and Emily bicker their way into forcing the mattress into the apartment through the pounding sound of blood rushing in his ears.

That was years ago and yet they’ve created its mirror image once again in his living room.

All of Jack’s belongings in boxes spread out in every room of the house. Packing up to leave.

“Art?” Emily mumbles disapprovingly. She’s knelt down in front of Jack’s bookshelf, dismantling the organized shelves to pack them into boxes. It’s a different method than the one that Hotch uses. Jack has them categorized by author and general theme and as Emily takes down all the books she’s gotten him about cults and psychology and crime she can’t help but feel a little cheated. Jack knows all about crime. He’s had Macdonald’s Triad memorized since he was five -- could give that method of thought its critical analysis as not a precursor to antisocial or serial killer behavior but more as a demonstration of a child’s poor coping skills or as the indicator of a dysfunctional home environment. He’s a well of information about cults, knows the “B.I.T.E.” system.

And he’s throwing all that away because Hotch took him to too many museums as a child?

Jack doesn’t say anything when he hears her grumble about art again, he’s had this conversation so many times. He knows she’s not really mad and she’s not even that irked but she needs to do something with the feelings she has about him leaving and this is just the best way she’s come up with. Better than crying -- which she’s also done far too much of.

“I think art is a great idea, kid.” Derek teases his hair as he passes, sweaty and hot from dragging Jack’s belongings around the place.

Hotch works slowly where he’s been assigned. They all work around him. He’s more freelance than the others. His job is to do what he can and leave the rest for someone else. Today his physical capabilities are not in the way. Derek does all the heavy lifting that Hotch knows is supposed to be assigned to him, it’s his duty as the father of the freshman moving away. He finds himself in the living room, one of Haley’s old photo albums on his lap. Thumbing pictures he can remember going with Haley to print. Pictures he can remember being in. Ones that he took.

He’s crying again.

Emily comes out with a box of books on her hip, having figured out the perfect ratio of books to box to prevent them from falling out the bottom. She sees Hotch wiping his face with a tissue, hiding away but unable to fully pull away right now. The hurt raw. The fear is too much.

The second that Hotch got the chance he left home and never came back. Over the years he returned to his hometown only when he had to -- when Haley’s parents couldn’t be convinced to come to see them. It didn’t matter how down bad he was, Hotch did it on his own. When his mother died when he was thirty he’d talked to her only once since moving out. Then it had only been for the benefit of Sean, who he had driven all the back to Virginia to collect and drove to college.

He fears Jack will do the same and it terrifies him in so many ways.

His own death will come quickly, he knows he’s only made it this long because he’s not alone. Without Jack, there’s no reason to keep going on, not with the way his body aches from years of abuse and neglect. More than that, he knows what growing up that fast did to him. As a child, the things that happen to you are out of your control. Children are sponges, not yet able to take control and mold themselves. So their reactions to abuse and neglect and even just trivial everyday things are but a reaction they are taught to form or never corrected on. But Hotch never corrected his behaviors as a young adult. He couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone, not at twenty, or thirty, and still at forty.

He spent his twentieth birthday on the side of the highway in a broken down car freezing his ass off with negative twenty-three cents in his bank account. No one to call because he couldn’t bring himself to believe anyone would come -- but Haley would have, or Jessica, or the sociology professor who gave him his number for emergencies or “just anything you can think of, just in case you need me”.

He doesn’t wish anything like that on Jack.

The cycle of self-destruction and fear and loathing.

But Jack knows how to form healthy relationships with people. He’s more worried about Hotch.

The car ride is nearly silent.

Jack cranks his window down and lays his head on the seal, lets the wind blow his hair back from his skin, and closes his eyes. There’s no air conditioning but it’s not that bad. The air has cooled off, the thunderstorms taking over the area sucking the humidity from the air as the wind picks up. It’ll get bad again in a day or so but today is nice and Jack wants to enjoy it. To sit contently with his dad and just try to soak it in before he’s thrown into the world of college.

Emily had promised him several times she’d make sure that Hotch didn’t turn himself into a hermit. Jack has grown up watching those two spar off so he knows she’s perfectly capable of getting Hotch out of the house. More than that, Jack knows he’s just going to miss his dad.

“Please--” Jack’s in the middle of trying to reorganize his stuff when he sees Hotch come in with one of the big boxes, one of the heavy ones. “Dad!” Jack takes it from him, not listening to Hotch’s complaint about being able to carry a few boxes. That he won’t break that easily. “Please, just leave the heavy stuff to Emily and Derek. Help me put my clothes away? Please?”

He nearly cries again folding Jack’s t-shirts away. Once upon a time, Jack’s shirts were about the size of his hand. Tiny delicate little things about the size of rags. Now he’s wearing the same size as Hotch, a grown man standing there racing to beat Emily to the heavy stuff because he doesn’t want her lifting it all either.

“Well,” Derek announces, setting the minifridge down, “that’s the last of it.”

Emily offers Hotch her hand and he takes it, grunting as he moves his body back upright.

“Well,” he declares, looking around the room. “We’ll leave you to it. Let you get everything sorted out how you like.” Hotch smiles and Emily and Derek step in to take their hugs, imparting half-wise ideas and a no-questions-asked ride home from anywhere.

“I love you,” Hotch says, he’s quick because he knows he can’t keep his composure if he stays here for too much longer. “I’ll send you care packages, you’ll just have to text me if you think of something I don’t send.”

Jack nods, pretending to make himself busy putting away the rest of his clothes. Trying to downplay his own feelings.

“Ok.”

Hotch nods and they leave, he doesn’t want to make a scene. They’ve hugged and Jack needs to unpack. He’s done. He’s only two doors away when he hears Jack’s door gets thrown open.

“Dad!” Hotch turns and stumbles, an armful of the little boy who was once the size of his forearm. He squeezes Jack tight, laughing through his tears when Jack holds on. “I love you too.”

Hotch holds him for a solid minute, just balanced there with his hand on the back of Jack’s head. “Alright,” he whispers. He sniffles a little, smiling as he cups Jack’s cheek wiping away a tear with his thumb. “I’m just a phone call away, okay? Any time of the night, you know where I am. You’ll be fine. You’re going to make mistakes and you’re going to fail tests and cry over boys and drink too much but you’ll be okay. And-- And if you’re not…”

Jack nods, smiling as he says, “I’ll call Emily.”

Hotch smirks, “well.. After a certain hour, yeah I suppose you’ll have to but yeah. Just call, okay?”

“I’ll call.”

Hotch nods and he has to force himself to let go and walk away. To let Jack do this.

They’re halfway down the hall, far enough away now that Jack won’t see or hear when Hotch starts to cry. He forces himself to keep going. Not to look back. Emily takes his hand, squeezes his fingers and he looks over at her tears in his eyes, and tries to smile.

Emily drives his truck home, she plans on feeding him chocolate and ice cream, and wine this afternoon to improve his mood. He gets a text and he smirks, he actually laughs.

“Let me know when you get home, old man. Tell Emily not to keep you out too late.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Lena’s assassination attempt.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader.

Word count: 1631.

Warning: panic attack.

This wasn’t your mom’s first assassination attempt and probably won’t be the last. You know that. But the last one was five years ago and it was so traumatic that you compartmentalized and pretended it never happened.

You were 10, and you remember that Kara came to pick you up from school in the middle of your math test. You tried to argue, you knew every answer, you wanted to finish it. But she just looked lost and scared, so you went with her. You flew together to the hospital, she kneeled down on the concrete and said, and you still remember every word of it.

“Hey, kid, listen. You don’t have to worry, because I promise your mom is going to be fine.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“She got… She was shot.” Kara holds you still when you feel your legs shake. You feel like there’s a hole on the floor pulling you in. “But she’s out of surgery, and she is going to recover, ok?”

You don’t answer. There’s no answer to this. You want to see your mom, want to make her feel better, want to protect her. You should have protected her. You’re bulletproof. You could’ve shield her, or fly her out of there. You could’ve done something, but you were too focused on shutting your super hearing and paying attention to your test.

When Kara takes you to the hospital room, the world swallows you. Literally. You can’t see anything but your tiny helpless mom in a hospital bed. It’s too much. And that day you promised yourself that was the last time you would feel this way, and that you would let Lena feel this way.

You also worry about Kara, but it’s different. She fights aliens, super villains and even your uncle. Sometimes she gets beat up, but you know she can shake it off. But Lena, Lena is just human. What if one day she can’t shake it off?

After the promise you made to yourself, you’re constantly checking on her. Her heartbeat, her voice, her breathing. Neither one of your moms have any idea of this, but it’s something that you catch yourself doing every day. So, you’re in the middle of English class when you hear:

“Gentlemen, please, lower your weapons.”

In a blink, you’re running out of the classroom (you obviously didn’t get a hall pass), you find a window and you fly to L Corp so fast; the men didn’t even answer her yet. You break through her window (it was closed, not your fault), and the men get spooked and start shooting at you right away.

You shield your mom with your body, and press the button on the watch to get Supergirl to deal with them. But she takes a while, and the loud shooting noises are stressing you, so you punch one guy on the face, and kick the other one down. Then you grab both men and make your way to the balcony. You’re two seconds away to throw both from it, when Supergirl shows up, takes them off of your hands and flies away with them presumably to the prison.

You run towards Lena, who’s currently sitting on the floor. She has a hand on one arm, and you can see there’s blood.

“No, no, no. It can’t be!” You kneel in front of her, and can’t control the tears running down your face. “You’re hurt.”

“Baby, I’m ok. You saved me.” She is hurt, and bleeding, but still has a smile on her face and she looks proud of you.

“No, mom. You’re hurt.” You use your x-ray vision on her and apparently the bullet is not inside her arm. You see the bullet just grazed through her skin, but it doesn’t look good and it’s your fault. You didn’t shield her enough. You should’ve attacked them immediately, you should’ve thrown them out of the balcony, you should’ve done more. And where the hell was Supergirl while this was happening, anyway? “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve, I could’ve…”

“Hey, I’m ok. I promise. You did it, kid.” She cups your face with one hand. “You did it, babygirl, you saved me.”

Kara flies in as soon as Lena is finished with the sentence and picks her up in a bridal style.

“Let’s take her to Alex.” She flies away to the DEO, leaving you alone in the room and you look around. There’s glass everywhere. And blood on your hands and on your school t-shirt. You’re supposed to follow them to the DEO, but all you do is sit amid the broken glass and the bullets, and cry your heart out.

Technically, you know she is safe. She only has a wound, she’ll recover. She will be able to move her arm so it’s ok. You did it. You saved her.

You know it, but you don’t feel it.

Your legs are trembling, and you feel the weakest you’ve ever felt in life. There’s blood on your hands, there wasn’t supposed to be blood. Especially not hers. There’s this gut feeling saying you didn’t do enough. You should’ve done more. Lena is still hurt, it’s your fault.

You lay on the floor, there’s so much tears you can’t see straight. And then comes the same feeling of the last time. The world swallows you again.

You hear all the noises, all the voices there are to hear in the world. They are loud, incomprehensive, and are driving you to madness. You want them to stop, but they just keep getting louder and deafening.

And then, you feel your eyes burning like fire and you’re unsure if you are actually using your heat vision, or maybe all the fear is dripping from your eyes in the form of a wildfire.

You try to ground yourself, so you grab the closest thing to your hand; you don’t know what it is, but in seconds it’s smashed into pieces and your hands feel empty again.

Then you hear another crashing sound and you can only deduct you broke the desk. Or maybe the ceiling. Or maybe the entire room is collapsing over you right now, but you don’t even feel it. And you don’t move. You can’t.

The only thing that you can do is yell. So you do it. You try to scream all the panic out of your body, but the only thing you manage to do is freeze the room entirely when you do so.

Suddenly, you feel everything at once. There’s part of the ceiling on top of your body. And you feel more. You feel broken glass and bullets and blood and ceiling and wood and ice. The room it’s a nightmare, but it doesn’t come close to what you feel. You’re not enough. Lena is hurt. You let your mom get hurt. You can’t breathe.

You feel your body being lifted, and you hear in the midst of all the other voices, Kara’s quiet voice in the back of your mind. You don’t dare open your eyes.

“She’s alright, you’re alright kid. You did it, little one. I love you.” She repeats the same words over and over again. And after a few minutes the world is silent again and her voice is all you can hear.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Kara says and you finally open your eyes. You’re not at L Corp anymore and judging by the metal walls you can only imagine she took you to the DEO, but you didn’t feel any of it. “There you go, momma is here with you, my baby.”

You want to ask where Lena is, but your voice doesn’t come out. Kara is holding you like a baby, you can feel you’re on her lap, she’s making soothing sounds and holding you so close you can feel her heartbeat against your own. It’s helping, but your heart is still beating faster than usual, and you still need to see your mom.

“Just breathe for me ok, baby?” Kara asks and you obey. You suck the air, but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to your lungs.“There you go. My brave girl. You saved your mom. I’m so proud of you.”

“Mom.” You finally say and Kara smiles at you.

“Your mom is safe because of you, little one.” She kisses your forehead and you close your eyes in relief, feeling tears rolling down your cheeks. You don’t know if you’re crying again or if maybe you never really stopped. “Hey, look who’s here.”

You open your eyes again and Lena is right in front of you. She has a bandage on her arm, but that’s all. She holds you tight and you breathe. You finally breathe.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough, mom.” You say and Lena holds your face with both hands. One tear falls from her eye.

“You were more than enough, babygirl.” She kisses your cheek. “You’ll always be more than enough.” Then she kisses your forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much.” You repeat and she smiles. Kara is smiling too; you can see their faces close to yours.

They keep you wrapped in their embrace for a long time. And they keep repeating that they’re proud of you, that they love you, and that you are a hero. You don’t feel like a hero, you feel like a kid that just blew up an entire room out of fear of losing her mom. You know the feeling will follow you for a long time, but right now all you can think about is that Lena is safe, you are safe and Kara is safe. You’re all here, together, and that’s all that matters, for now.

#supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #reader #panic attack #supercorp #reader needs a hug

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starforger-backup · 3 years

Text

Baleful

The deepening gloom of the forest was no match for a keeper's eyes; it didn't matter how long it had been since Nhaza'a Jaab last visited the Shroud. A few weeks of planning certainly helped, as he navigated the labyrinth that was the Lyehga woman's home. But night vision was something that rested in the blood, and it served to guide him through the winding tree-paths and thicket-laden roads. It was not long before he was able to hear the haunting chime of bells, and the smell of incense and broth greeted his nose. He knew he was close.

Nhaza'a entered a clearing, gazing up at the large tree that stood in the center before him. Nestled in the branches was a rickety house, with heavy curtains drawn over its windows to blot out any light glowing within. It was deathly quiet: either the lady of the house wasn't in, or she was already aware she had a caller. Nhaza'a sighed quietly and heaved his shoulders in a shrug. He would just have to get comfortable and wait.

He climbed the ladder rungs that were attached to the front of the tree and pulled himself through the floorboards. Like a coeurl in the night, he made no sound as he traversed the unsteady wooden planks beneath his feet. Nhaza'a drew himself to the door, raising his head just enough to get a peek through the window- which, of course, was covered by a curtain. For a woman who claimed to love the night sky, she certainly didn't afford herself the chance to see it in her own home.

He tested the knob. Locked. That didn't tell him much about Maha's whereabouts, unfortunately, so he picked the lock and snuck inside. If the forest was dark, Maha's home was utterly abyssal, with not a single light source available to guide his way through. He crouched by the door, giving his eyes a moment to adjust, but with little avail. Keeper or not, he was no match for the one who made her home within this miserable place.

Time was ticking out, and Nhaza'a could not afford to wait any longer. He felt his way around, his hands gliding over wooden surfaces complete with dishware. The dining room, perhaps. The place was completely cluttered, and he kept finding stacks of things blocking his path: books, baskets filled with something heavy- probably fruit- the odd crate here and there, draped fabric, and whatever else this madwoman decided to hoard. Despite it all, he somehow avoided making a single noise.

Finally, he reached the end of the traversable space, and his hand was stopped by a counter. He was in the kitchen, or so he assumed. The chaotic mixture of herbal scents had long assaulted his nose since he entered the place, and he could no longer hide the displeasure on his features. Turning his back to the wall, he moved to take a step- and froze.

Emerging from the dark was a single, gleaming blade, raised toward his throat. Nhaza'a grinned his satisfaction as he looked down the length of the woman's arm, up the column of her neck to her face, where two yellow eyes filled with fury greeted his own.

"I was beginning to fear your antics had finally gotten you killed."

"I am in no mood for your games, Nhaza'a Jaab." Maha spat, holding the dagger steady at his throat. The blade hadn't quite touched skin yet, but she was sure to let him know it could at any moment.

He held up his hands. "Now, now, there's no need for hostility. I come bringing a lucrative opportunity. If you would just listen-"

"Get out of my house!"

Nhaza'a subtly weaved around her, his feet gliding over carpeted floors- and somehow avoiding the wrinkles that would trip up any lesser man. He held his hands up as a means to appease the angry woman, or at the least humor her. Still, she kept her weapon and her eyes trained on him.

"You might want to hear me out." He continued. "The others might not be as civil as I."

"What others?" She demanded, her eyes flicking to the door and back.

"Oh, just some old friends."

He watched as her expression transformed from anger, to consideration, to horror, and finally, to abject fury. Before she could press, a voice called from outside.

"Maha Lyehga! Come out now- or burn with your tree!"

"You rotten-"

"Better see what they have to say, as I doubt they're patient."

Maha jerked her head toward the front door, her teeth bared as she hissed. She withdrew her dagger and moved to the door, leaning against it while she peered out from behind the curtain. Outside the base of her treehouse stood a veritable pack of torch-bearing Coeurlclaws, all armed and looking for a fight. She pulled the curtain closed and looked back at Nhaza'a, who had made himself comfortable on one of her couches, idly examining his hand.

"I suspect you'll listen to me, now."

Her hand clenched tightly around the knife, the other coming up to point at the man who helped himself to the comforts of her home.

"This had better be good."

"I trust your familiar with the ruins to the south."

"I'm giving you a count of ten!" called one of the Claws outside.

"Hurry up, asshole." Maha barked through grit teeth.

“One!”

"I'll give you the specifics later, but there's a certain relic I want you to locate for me. Satisfied?"

“Three!”

Maha took a quick look back through the curtain. The Claws were pacing. She growled.

"If I say yes, will you do something about them?"

“Six!”

"Why, certainly." Nhaza'a folded his hands atop each other, meeting her baleful gaze.

“Seven!”

"Fine. Yes. Now get out there!"

Nhaza'a chuckled, a low, guttural sound that only served to disturb the witch further. She wrinkled her nose, moving away from the door as he approached languidly, like a predator in the night.

“Nine!”

"Be back soon, my dear." He cooed, then swung open the door and stepped outside.

Maha knew Nhaza’a Jaab. She knew that he far outmatched the ratty Coeurlclaws with their pitiful sticks and bows. She knew that he'd dispatch the mob of them in a matter of minutes.

Still, she hoped one of them would make him bleed, at the very least.

#my writing #ffxivwrite2021 #ugh im falling behiiiind #we have claws for a reason

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