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sugarcoatedstarkey · 6 months

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Fake Boyfriend - p2

Pairings - soft!Rafe Cameron x virgin! Fem reader

Summary - You lie to your best friend about having a boyfriend.

Warnings - none

Part one if you missed it

You're aroused from your sleep by the piercing bright light seeping through the curtains, hitting you directly between the eyes. You let out a groan and press your face into the pillow, it feels as though you're on a boat. Your stomach churns as your brain sways within your skull. “Jesus” you mumble, pushing yourself up from the bed slightly.

Panic sets in when you don’t recognise anything in the room, your hands flying under the cover to check you were still clothed.

“God you move a lot for someone with a hangover” a voice grumbles beside you, you sit up so fast your stomach lurches and the growing headache pounds behind your eyes. “Here”.

Your eyes fall to Rafe, he lay next to you, still dressed in the clothes from last night. He has 2 pills in the palm of his hand and a bottle of water, you accept gratefully and lay back down.

Silence falls over the two of you only to be interrupted with his phone ringing, he ignores it and sits up to look at you. “I’m sorry about yesterday, my friend wouldn’t shut up about me not having a boyfriend. The lie just slipped” you speak, he nods his head but stays silent. Your eyes wander over his face trying to pick up on an emotion but it’s unreadable, his blue eyes stare back at you.

“Never had a boyfriend huh?” He smirks, his left eyebrow raises in question. Redness spreads across your cheeks, spinning your body until it hides under the blanket. “So does that mean..”.

“Oh god, this is so damn embarrassing” you exclaim, you feel sick to the stomach. Thankfully you're both pulled away when his phone rings for the second time, he answers it with a huff and pulls himself from the bed.

You peek your head out of the blanket and watch him close the bathroom door behind him, you take this moment to step out of bed. Wobbling slightly on the plush carpet, thankfully the nausea had subsided and you were just left with a headache.

You grabbed your phone from the bedside table and made a dash for it, no way were you going to wait for him knowing he had follow up questions.

You're so close to the front door when Kelsie rounds the corner, she throws her arms around you in delight. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, didn’t want to wake you up myself in case I walked in on something” she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You nervously laughed, you probably shouldn’t let her think you were having sex. You know she’d ask for details later and you weren’t sure you could lie about that.

“Hey!” She exclaims, waving behind you. You turn to see Rafe walking towards you with a smirk on his lips, looking away quickly you nudge your friend towards the door. “We should get going” you mumble, gripping her bicep roughly. She shakes her head though just as Rafe’s arm wraps around your shoulder, he brings your back flush against his front.

Your body tingles, well aware that your bum was pressed against where his cock was tucked away. “You can’t leave yet babe, have coffee first”.

Your breath catches in your throat from the nickname, your limbs feel like jelly as you let him push you towards the kitchen. He maneuvers around the kitchen effortlessly and in silence, Kelsie sits on the stool watching him get the coffee machine ready, he turns to look at you and holds out a mug. “Thanks” you manage a smile and step over to help him, he looks down at you for a split second and then over at Kelsie who is tapping on her phone.

“Play along” he whispers, your eyes go wide when his thumb and forefinger trap your chin. Tilting your head up so he can duck down and kiss you.

You can’t stop the swarm of butterflies that are let loose in your stomach, your fingers grip the front of his white shirt. His hand pulls you in by your waist, you're trying to remind yourself this is fake. He’s just helping you out, helping you put on a show for your best friend.

“Gross! You’ve been doing god knows what all morning, let me get to know your boyfriend y/n” Kelsie cringes from her seat, dramatically covering her eyes in disgust. But the curve of her lips shows how damn excited she was for you. “What do you want to know?” Rafe questions, placing a mug down in front of her and then handing you yours.

“Everything! How long have you guys been together first?” Her eyes move between the two of you, your mouth opens but no words follow. Slamming your lips closed quickly before she notices. “Only 3 weeks, I’ve known about y/n since she came to the island 2 years ago. Just never had the courage to speak to her”.

Your brows crease together In the middle, was what he was saying true? If it wasn’t, how did he know you moved here 2 years ago?.

“That’s so sweet! Oh y/n I’m so damn happy for you! Anyway you gave me all the goss last night about the two of you, so Rafe what do you do for work?”

You sit in silence while your best friend interrogates Rafe Cameron, you hang onto every last word of his. Making mental notes about everything he was saying, you didn’t know much about Rafe Cameron.

You just knew he was rich and practically owned half the island, you heard a few things about problems with drugs when he was younger but that he got clean. He didn’t bring any of that up though and of course why would he, this whole situation was just to help you out.

“You got yourself a good one y/n! You better keep good care of her, I leave in a few days and I need to know my bestie is well looked after” she says but wiggles her eyebrows at the last part, nudging you in the ribs. You laugh with her and give him a tight smile.

“Of course, I’ll take real good care of her” he winks at you and you're so grateful for the chair that kept you from falling to the ground, one simple movement from him and you were weak at the knees. “Anyway we should get going, I promised you a trip to Charleston” you said, you made your way to the sink to wash the mug but large hands stop you as you reach for the cloth. “I got it”.

“Oh yes! I’m so excited, okay let’s go! Will see you later, yeah Rafe?” You suppress a groan, squeezing your eyes shut at your insistent friend. You open your mouth to tell her he’s got plans with friends but he’s agreeing with her and saying he’ll see you both later.

“I’ll let you say goodbye in private” she winks, skipping around the corner. When you hear the front door lock you turn to him, he’s staring at you again with his bright blue eyes.

“Thank you so much for playing along and helping me out but honestly I’ll tell her you have plans, she’ll be gone in a few days and we can pretend none of this happened”. You state, he doesn’t move from his spot or acknowledge what you’ve said for a few moments, you stare in silence.

“I’ll play your fake boyfriend y/n” he says, placing his mug into the sink and stepping towards you. “You really don’t need to, I’m apparently really good at lying” you reply, you give him an awkward thank you hug and dart out the door.

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, rushing towards the Uber waiting for you. You couldn’t believe you had gotten away with it, one little lie worked and now you no longer had your best friend in your ear about finding a man.

The two of you went home to shower and change, spending your day over in Charleston. Showing Kelsie around the town and shopping. Your feet were on fire by the time you stepped through your front door, you dropped your bags to the floor. “I need to lay down!” You announce, walking straight to your bedroom and dropping onto the bed.

You must have passed out because you're waking up in a dark room, your shoes have been taken off and a blanket draped over you. Your ears prick up to the sound of music, what was Kelsie doing?

You threw the blanket off you and stepped into your bathroom, you grabbed a makeup wipe and cleaned up the mascara that had smudged under your eyes. Racking a comb through your hair and stepping back out of the bathroom.

The moment you open your bedroom door you are hit with loud music and the smell of tequila, you follow the noise towards the living room. “There she is!” Your best friend screams, she comes charging at you wrapping her arms around your neck.

Your eyes land on Rafe who sits on the one seater velvet chair, legs spread wide. He sends a smirk your way and raises his glass as a hello. “What is happening?” You question, noticing Rafe’s friends lounge on the couch and your friends looking at you in confusion. Oh god.

Your lie was about to unravel, you hadn’t thought about Kelsie meeting them. “I grabbed your phone while you were sleeping and organized a little get together! But you missy need to stop deleting messages it was very hard to figure out who your friends where”.

You were more concerned about how she got Rafes number, it would have been suspicious for you not to have messages with him. “Luckily everyone was saved in your favorites” she says handing you your phone, when she isn’t looking you search your phone. Rafes name pops up under favorite number 1, he must have put it in there last night? He was a lot better at this fake dating than you had expected.

“Hi” his voice whispered in your ear, his breath tickled your neck sending familiar shivers down your spine. His fingers dance around your hip stopping at your stomach, flattening his hand against you he pulled you back against him. “Hey” you managed, you say, he could tell you were flustered from the pink creeping up your neck until it made home on the apple of your cheeks. “You were asleep when she texted, I’m not as good of a liar as you” he joked, his eyes looking behind you for a moment and then his lips were on yours. You had now been kissed by 3 boys in your our lifetime, his lips were your favorite so far.

“Get a room!” Kelsie shouted, she poured tequila into shot glasses and began passing them around. “Let’s get this party started!”.

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach, Kelsie never usually drank this much when she was around you. She knew you weren’t much of a drinker, especially since your dad was an alcoholic.

You stared down at the shot in your hand, you really didn’t want to drink tonight. Before you could even bring it to your lips Rafe was swapping his empty shot glass with yours and throwing it back. “You didn’t have to do that” you whispered, his hand still laying upon your stomach. You could feel him breathing against your back. “You didn’t want it”.

He gives you another soft smile and looks back at everyone in the room, Kelsie has turned the music up louder and pulled everyone into the middle of the lounge. “I just need to talk to my friends quickly” he nods his head and drops his hand from you. He watched you make your way to your friends and took a seat back on the seat he once occupied.

“Girl! You didn’t tell us you were seeing Rafe!” Sam exclaimed, she was in pure shock. Your three outer banks friends had lived here all their lives, they had known Rafe since school. “I’m sorry, it’s so recent I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it yet”.

“That’s okay, totally understand! It’s Rafe Cameron for crying out loud, I never thought I’d see the day he settles down” Grace says, she looks over at Rafe who is still watching you. They send him a smile and look back at you, an uneasy feeling in your stomach again.

“Yeah who knew” you laughed, you stood with them for a bit longer until the feeling of his eyes on you made you squirm. Walking back over to him, he pulled you to sit on his lap.

Your legs sat between his open ones, body nuzzled into his side. His arm around your shoulder, it was surprisingly comfortable and not weird. “We should probably discuss this fake boyfriend thing” he whisperedMy, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “You really don’t have to pretend after today”.

He chuckles and moves in his seat a little bit, your thighs rubbing against his groin. The redness once again painted on your cheeks. “You underestimate your friend”.

You look over at Kelsie who’s dancing away with Topper, both of them look like they escaped the mental hospital.

“You might be right” you agreed, unsure why you feel so content against him. You’d sat on boys' laps before and cuddled, it usually made you feel uncomfortable and you’d run off before they got the wrong idea.

“She's here for 3 days, so if you were possibly free over the next few days I’d be forever in your debt” you say, turning slightly to look up at him. He tilts his chin to look down at you, something flashes behind his eyes but you can’t quite place what it is. His smile is intoxicating, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes and the perfectly straight teeth could kill me. “I can be free BUT I need a favour from you”.

“Yeah?” Your heart beats a bit faster and harder in your chest, what could Rafe Cameron possibly want from you? “I’ll need you to come to an event, I need a plus one”.

“Oh sure thing” you answer a bit too quickly, earning a smirk from the man under you. “Let’s talk about rules then?”

“Rules?”

“Yeah, you’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by doing anything you don’t want” he states, his tone is serious and his smile has vanished. “Oh” is all you manage to say to him, he moves again sitting up more straight so you both face each other.

“If I touch you anywhere you don’t like or want, or if I kiss you and you don’t want it, you just tell me. I won’t be hurt”

You nod your head, his hand cups your face and his lips touch yours for only a brief moment. “Sorry… they were watching”.

You turn your head and every snap their head back to what they were doing, a soft chuckle leaves your mouth and you look back at Rafe.

“Okay, and if you're busy or no longer want to be my fake boyfriend you just tell me. No hard feelings”

“Okay”

“Shall we kiss on it?”

You're the one to press your lips to his this time, it’s not quick like the last one. It’s more intense, his tongue snakes between your lips and you're moving in sync. This was a lot better than any of the other kisses you shared with someone.

“Sorry, I thought we’d give them a show”.

“Right” you breath, clearing the back of your throat and laying against him again. Was it normal to enjoy a kiss from a fake boyfriend that much?

Tag list - @rafemotherfuckingcameron @rafegirly @prentissesredtanktop @maybankslover @vigilanteshitposting

Part 3

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liliacamethyst · 1 year

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I briefly expressed the idea of Miguel finding out his partner is pregnant in this imagine, and I can’t help but wonder about the possibility of Miguel finding out this way (just as angsty in my opinion).

Another alternate universe Drabble:

Your heart races as you swing through the city, the wind whipping past your face. You are exhilarated by the adrenaline that comes with being a superhero. You’ve always felt like you belonged in the skies, protecting the people who trust you.

But something feels different today. You’re more cautious, more protective, and it’s not just because of yourself. There’s someone else involved. The thought makes your heart swell. You recently found out you’re a few weeks pregnant, and the thought of being a parent excites you. But you’re also scared. You don’t know how Miguel will react, considering his past.

As you land on the rooftop, you notice Jessica Drew waiting for you. Your nausea catches up with you as you double over.

“Jessica Drew, you breathe a word of this to anyone and I will kill you with my bare hands,” you whisper fiercely through clenched teeth.

“How can you when you're throwing up every five minutes?” she retorts. At your wince, she huffs out a breath. “You gotta tell him, at the very least.”

You take a deep breath, nodding slightly. Before you can answer her, your spider-sense tingles and your head snaps up. From the corner of your eye, you see a figure cloaked in shadows zooming toward you and Jessica. You recognize him immediately – it's the Vulture.

"Jessica, look out!" you shout as you push her out of the way. The Vulture’s sharp talons miss her by inches.

You don't waste a moment, shooting webbing to pull yourself towards him. As you close in on the Vulture, you exchange blows, his claws trying to find purchase while your punches land solidly.

Meanwhile, Jessica joins in, and you both engage in a fierce battle above the city. The buildings become blurry as you fight, your focus narrowing down to the Vulture’s relentless attacks.

At one point you see an opening. Your instincts tell you to go for it. But just as you lunge forward, the Vulture spins and his wing catches you in the abdomen. The force sends you hurling toward a building. You try to shoot a web, but the pain is too much.

Jessica catches you before you hit the ground and lays you down gently. She’s saying something but the world is growing dark. You reach for your abdomen.

"Please.. protect my baby," you whisper before everything goes black.

As you slowly regain consciousness, a sterile scentfills your senses. Your body feels heavy and a dull ache resonates through your abdomen. Your heart clenches as the memory of the battle rushes back and you instinctively move a hand to your belly.

Soft murmurs float around you and you blink your eyes open to see Lyla beside you. Her holographic form is displaying medical data in front of Miguel, who is pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back and a deep, angry frown on his face.

"...stable, but she must exercise caution due to early stages of pregnancy..." Lyla's words cut through the fog in your head, and your breath catches.

Miguel freezes, his gaze snapping to Lyla then to you. His expression crumbles as he takes in what Lyla just said.You slowly push yourself into a sitting position, your hand still protectively over your belly. Your eyes lock with Miguel's, his eyes widen with disbelief.

"You... We... Is this...?" Miguel stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You give him a simple nod.

"But...how? How did this happen?" His voice is choked.

"Miguel, listen to me," you start, your voice steady yet just a little bit above a whisper, "You don’t have to... This isn’t an obligation.I dont expect anything from you. I can raise this child alone. I..."

But before you can finish, Miguel leans in, pressing his lips against yours, effectively silencing your rambling. It’s a gentle yet passionate kiss filled with so many unsaid emotions and promises.

I loved this idea, and I really hope this is what you were looking for 💜

#miguel x you #miguel o hara #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara imagine

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sabersandsnipers · 8 months

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Drabble: Astarion Comforts You

Request:

Hello there, absolutely adore your work. Could i request a drabble for Astarion, for him comforting you (whether it be because you're overwhelmed with everything suddenly becoming too much or that you're simply lost in a spiral and have been sorrowful/inconsolable for a few days)? Thank you so much for all your writing <3

A/N: I love that you requested this because I’ve been struggling with a panic disorder lately and I’ve been wanting to write some Astarion comfort!! That being said, there are descriptions of a panic attack in here.

It feels like a monster is constantly gnawing on your mind. Your body can never settle, never relax. Your stomach is an endless wave of nausea. Eating anything seems like an impossible task.

Astarion sees all of it. He sees the distance in your eyes, the slight shake in your hands. He feels helpless, unable to pull you out of whatever is keeping you under.

You’re able to keep the panic attacks hidden from him though, that much you can do. You don’t want him to worry anymore than he already is. You don’t want to burden him with the episodes you’re suffering from.

Until one hits you in the middle of the night. It pulls you from sleep, that feeling of panic. You wake with your heart pounding. Your breaths come in short gasps. Your chest is a tight knot, and your fingers start to tingle.

It’s as if an evil has come to consume you. You try to smother the building panic with Astarion sleeping next to you. But it’s impossible.

You sit up, gripping your hair, digging at your skin, anything to ground you against this imaginary threat intruding your brain.

A cool hand slides up against your spine. Those red eyes meet yours, and you wait for him to spiral into concern.

But he simply keeps a hand on your back. He doesn’t want to hold you, knowing it can make the panic worse.

“Breathe,” he whispers. A command. “With me.”

He breathes in slowly, holding his breath for a moment before releasing it slowly. You follow his actions, focusing all your attention on the patterns of your breath.

It takes a while of steady breathing for your heart rate to begin to fall, for the tightness in your chest to begin to loosen.

When it finally subsides, tears prick at your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you tell Astarion, wishing you could stop these episodes. Now it’s affecting the one you love.

He pulls you in then. Letting you cry against his bare chest.

“Do not ever apologize,” he says, his tone still soft.

You let out a shaky breath at the comforting sensation of his strong arms wrapped around you. You begin to feel safe again, your jaw finally unclenching and your body loosening.

He holds you like that for the rest of the night. He doesn’t want you to think you need to face this alone. He’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe, and to kill whatever monster has your mind in its clutches.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion imagine #astarion x reader

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phoward89 · 25 days

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Based on this ask for my moot @swiftieblyth

“Darling, are you feeling unwell again?” Your husband, President Coriolanus Snow of Panem, asked you as he entered the residential wing of the Presidential Palace only to see you sprawled out on the sofa with a cold compress on your head in an attempt to ease your migraine. A migraine that's so bad that your body's shaking in pain and all of the drapes are drawn, leaving you in the dark to wallow in your misery.

“No.” You moan out in pain. “I’ve been suffering with a terrible migraine all day, Coryo.”

“My darling rose, perhaps we should call the doctor?” Coriolanus suggested while making his way over to your side.

“I don't need a doctor, Coryo. It's just a migraine.” You waved off your husband's concern as he kneels next to you. Truthfully, you hurt so bad that you just want to cry. But it's just a headache, all a doctor's going to do is prescribe headache and migraine medications and you've already got those in the medicine cabinet. Too bad you're too nauseous to take them tho.

“This isn't just a migraine. You've been getting frequent headaches too often lately. Not to mention your lack of appetite and nausea.”

“I'm fine, Coryo.” You stubbornly told your husband.

“You're not fine, my love. Don't even lie to me and say you are.”

“I know, Coryo.” You sigh defeatedly. Your husband always knows when you're lying. What is he, a human lie detector?

“This is concerning me. Really it is and you know I don't frighten that easily.” The President told you, gently stroking your arm up and down in a soothing manner.

“I know, it concerns me too," You honestly admit to the platinum blonde who's your other half in life. "but I already have migraine and headache medications; they don't work.”

“You have to take them for them to work, darling.” Scolded your husband.

“Okay, when I'm not too nauseous from the headaches and take them they don't really help.”

“That's why we need to get you to a doctor.”

“I know, but I don't want to see the doctor only for him to tell me what I already know- that I have migraines.”

Coriolanus loves you, he truly does, but sometimes you can be so stubborn. He'd feel better if you'd just agree to see the doctor, but you won't.

Your claim that it's just migraines is bullshit; both you and your husband know it too. You're been experiencing chronic fatigue, a tiny bit of brain fog, and tingling in your hands that makes you shake them out to get feeling back sometimes.

Those symptoms on top of the frequent headaches, nausea, and loss of appetite has Coriolanus worried. Of course you're concerned too, but your husband's downright scared to death. But maybe that's because he's been looking up things and playing Dr. Panoogle when it comes to your symptoms.

But President Snow’s read so many scary things while playing Dr. Panoogle that he's desperate to get you to a doctor. He can't have you dying on him from some disease or illness.

Coriolanus let out an exasperated sigh. “If your symptoms consist or worsen, I'm taking you to the doctor. Understood?”

“Understood.” You reply, causing your husband to gently kiss your temple before scooping you up and bringing you to your large bedroom for some proper rest in your king sized bed.

A few days later your health took a turn for the worse. Your headache was gone, but you were feeling fatigued. More than usual. Also you were having some problems with your motor skills. You're, for a lack of a better word, clumsy and stumbling over your own feet.

You're scared, but you don't want to bother your husband. Coryo's the President and he's been busier than usual lately since the games are a month and a half away. You know if you call him or send a maid to get him then he'll scrap all of his duties to tend to you. As much as you want your doting husband by your side, he's the President of Panem and has a duty to the country. Plus, he's the youngest president that's ever been elected, so if he puts off his duties it'll make him look like a slacker and your husband's anything but that.

So, you decide to deal with feeling poorly yourself. But then you suddenly feel dizzy when you rise from the sofa in order to go to the bathroom. You feel as if the room's spinning, as if you can see the air dancing around the floor.

And suddenly you faint; hitting the floor with a loud thud. A loud thud that, unfortunately, none of the staff heard.

Coryo's exhausted when he makes his way down the hall, towards the residential wing of the Presidential Palace. He can't wait to get home to you, his darling wife. You've been by his side since college, always supporting his dreams and goals. You always manage to bring a smile to his face when he's had a bad day. You also calm the rage coursing through him whenever he's pissed off about something work related.

Just being around you's enough to calm him, bring fresh air to his dark soul. The nation of Panem should be glad that you're the First Lady. If Coriolanus was married to anyone else, well…there would be a ton more executions and poisonings then what have occured.

That's for sure.

Coriolanus can't wait to see you, to have you in his arms or to be held in yours (either works for him), but when he enters the living room of your living quarters his blood freezes in his veins.

The sight of you passed on the floor is like a vice around his heart. You're motionless and he's terrified that he's going to lose you. Quickly, he rushed over to you and pulled you into his arms. “Please, baby, wake up. Open your eyes for me, darling.” Coriolanus begs, gently patting your cheek in an attempt to rouse you, as his icy eyes shine with fear.

Your eyelashes flutter as you begin to weakly open your eyes. “Coryo?” You ask, trying to make the shape of your husband out since your vision’s a bit spotty.

“I'm here, darling.” Coryo assured you. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he tells you, “I'm taking you to the doctor, Y/N. You've been passed out for only gods know how long; you're getting checked out.’

“Okay.” You relent, knowing that you won't win against your husband on this. He told you before that if your health declines he's making you see the doctor.

The doctor examined you, listened to your list of symptoms, and ran some tests on you. Once the results were in, the doctor walked into your examination room with a few papers in hand.

Coming to a stop in front of the table you're sitting on, the doctor looks between you and President Snow before revealing, “First Lady Snow, I've come to the conclusion that you have both high cholesterol and an iron deficiency.”

“Isn't she a bit young for that?” Coriolanus asked in disbelief. How could you have those medical issues? Didn't people Grandma'am’s age have those kinds of issues?

“Yes, President Snow, the First Lady is young, but it seems that her medical issues with high cholesterol and iron deficiency is a genetic one.” The doctor told your husband before looking over at you. “Do your parents or siblings have any of these issues?”

“No.” You shake your head. “My mother and older brother don't have any problems.”

“Her father died in the war, during the Dark Days alongside mine.” Your husband told the doctor before the middle-aged man could even ask about your dad.

The doctor nodded, only to hand you a script and say, “That's a prescription for a statin. It's a medication to control your cholesterol.” He gave you another piece of paper that had some supplements written on it. “Those are over the counters you can buy for your iron deficiency. They're easily found in the vitamin aisle of the pharmacy.”

Looking between you and your husband, the doctor sighed. “Now, this next part might be a bit difficult since it concerns diet. I understand that you're the First Family of Panem, the equivalent of royalty in the eyes of the old world, but there's quite a few diet restrictions the First Lady has now because of her condition.” Handing some papers about foods you could eat, couldn't eat, and diet plans to your husband l, the doctor concluded his thoughts on the matter with, “I understand that you hold a lot of galas and dinner parties and I won't tell you what to serve, just that the First Lady doesn't eat anything she's not supposed to unless you want her having another episode due to out of order levels of cholesterol.”

“Don't worry, Dr. Murphy, she'll strictly adhere to whatever's in this diet plan.” Coriolanus assured your doctor, holding the papers in his hand up slightly. “Nothing she's not allowed to have will enter the Presidential Palace.”

Well, it's rare, but your medication gave you an allergic reaction. Yea…it gave you a bad cause of hives, which you had to get some antihistamines for. So, you couldn't take the cholesterol medication.

Your husband was livid that the statin gave you hives. He even threatened to have the doctor's head on a silver platter for malpractice, but you managed to calm him down enough not to kill poor Dr. Murphy. That doctor should be thanking his lucky stars that you have such a strong hold on your deranged husband, President Coriolanus Snow, otherwise he'd be pushing up daisies right now.

Since the cholesterol medication is off the table, you have to manage it all on your own with a strict diet. A diet that Coryo's also eating, despite the fact that he's as healthy as a horse.

It means a lot to you that your husband's supporting your journey to get healthier. That he eats the same foods as you and won't let anything you can't have come into your home. Not many husbands are so devoted, but yours is.

But, that also means that dinner parties have a strict menu now to. Because President Snow's making everyone-

EVERY-FUCKING-ONE

that enters the Presidential Palace for a gala or dinner party eat your family's special diet.

Mhm…

He's not having you get sick on his watch by accidentally eating one of your ‘bad’ foods that can make your cholesterol skyrocket.

Coriolanus needs you to get healthy so that you can start thinking about having a baby. Well, you've been together for so many years now, it's the only logical step. But before that can happen he wants to make sure that your cholesterol and iron levels are at a good reading.

He's so supportive and you're so grateful for him.

“Thank you, Coryo, for doing this diet with me and for just being such a good husband while I've been dealing with my health issues.” You tell your husband one night during dinner.

Your husband always returns to the residential wing of the Presidential Palace for mealtimes now. He feels it's his duty to make sure you're eating healthy and the only way to do that is to share meals with you all the time.

Coryo pauses in stabbing his vegetables with a fork, only to tell you, “My darling rose, you don't have to thank me for wanting you well. For wanting nothing but the best for my love.”

“I know, but not all husbands are like you and I just wanted you to know that I'm grateful for everything.”

Reaching across the table to grab your hand, the president smiles that special smile he only reserves for you. “You're everything to me. Made me love again when I never thought I'd be able to.” Coryo's icy blue eyes were twinkling as he admitted, “I'm completely lost without you, my love. I'll always be by your side to support you because I need you to be healthy and at your best.”

Your husband's words really touched your heart. To the public your husband's a cold, stoic, firm leader. But to you he lets down his guard, shows you a tender side. He's also a very devoted man to have as a life partner.

Coryo's been by your side during all of your hard times. Like during the times I'm University that you had some very bad spats and falling outs with some of your friends via social media. He's your biggest supporter, but hearing that he needs you by his side because you make him a better man just makes you swoon.

So, it seems that you both need each other. Perhaps that's why your love works so well. You make his heart beat and prevent it from rotting while he makes sure that you're healthy, both mentally and physically.

And right now you might be a little unwell, but you'll get better. With Coryo's love and support you'll be better in no time.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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starleska · 1 year

Note

Hello again!! I'm the anon from before (and I'm glad to hear you had a nice time yesterday!!!), and here's what I wrote.. I've been thinking a lot about the 'Wally eats with his eyes' idea, as many have been !!! I'm not sure how to warn for what this exactly so feel free to tag it with whatever you deem necessary. Wally just. Likes you a lot lol. i guess this is a little silly but i had a good time writing it haha

You are having a staring contest with your friend Wally.

You can't quite remember who started this, or why. Just that Wally had wanted to draw somewhere outside and you tagged along with him, until you were sitting somewhere in a field of flowers around the Neighbourhood.

Wally simply returns your gaze, unblinking, his hands folded over on top of his sketchbook. You think this has lasted long enough. What you want to do is crack a smile or a joke, but you find that your muscles are frozen stiff, and your tongue is so, so heavy.

His pupils expand.

You're supposed to panic about being this frozen up. Moving shouldn't be so difficult. But it's like your body feels like even stressing out about this is too much effort. You feel warm. Your eyelids tremble with the effort to blink. There is no movement, though your eyes don't burn either. You've held them open for so long that the world starts to gray out around you.

His pupils expand.

Wally leans his head to the side, little by little. You mirror his movements without thinking. The tips of your fingers are tingling, your feet feel numb as if fallen asleep. He smiles at you even more than usual. You think that this makes you happy. His lips part slowly, as if to speak, and-

"Hiya, guys!" Eddie calls out from the path to your right.

Your body jolts in surprise, and the spell is broken. By the time you whip your head around to look, Eddie has already continued his delivery route without waiting for a response.

Your returned awareness feels like breaking the surface after almost drowning. A weight disappears from your body, and you practically double over, gasping for air. Your shoulders are shaking, your eyes wide. When you squeeze them shut, it burns. You feel tired like you never have before.

"That was good," Wally says. For a moment, you are hesitant to turn your head back and look at him. You want to hide from his eyes. But you snuff that thought out as soon as it pops up, because that's just silly. You must've eaten something wrong, or have caught a cold. What else could explain this.

You look at Wally. He looks normal, and his eyes upon

"W-what did you say?"

"I asked: Are you feeling good?" Wally speaks even slower than he otherwise would, but his smile is as wide as ever. "You don't look good, friend."

"I don't… I'm a little out of it," you force out a laugh. "I think I'm getting sick."

Wally leans forward.

"You'll be okay," he says, and puts a hand on your knee. "Let's sit here until you feel better."

!!!!!! anon!!!! anon do you know how good this is?!?! oh my gosh!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭 honey, i cannot express how much i adore this fic. it's such a wonderful blend of terror and intimacy, so frightening and claustrophobic yet warm and safe in a way you can't understand...ugh, i'm in love 🥴 your descriptions are so vivid - i could really feel Your panic and nausea. some real Lovecraftian horror stuff going on in here. and oh my God the little detail of him saying, 'That was good' and then switching to 'Are you feeling good?' absolute chills!!! 😱😱 if you feel comfortable enough, you should absolutely post your writing somewhere!! you've got such a talent for writing, Wally in particular, and i'd love to read more of your stuff should you be inclined. i'll definitely be taking some tips from this awesome little fic going forward 😉 thank you so much for sharing 🥰

#all you eye-horror/hypno fans are gonna have a blast with this one wow #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling x you #starleskasks #tw: scopophobia

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 3 months

Text

symptom ideas for whumpee in a sickfic ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

loss of appetite

nausea

vomiting blood

difficulty swallowing

delirium / high fever

body shivering

fatigue / tiredness

dizziness

numbness, tingling in hands

heart palpitations

hearing loss

ringing in ears

vision loss / temporary blindness

skin rashes

shortness of breath

muscle cramps

blood in urine / blood in stool

cough / cough up blood

headache

abdominal pain

chest pain

dry mouth

itching

runny nose

loss of taste and / or smell

sore throat

chronic pain

temporary paralysis

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mrsfatu · 4 months

Text

Part 1: Duel Desires

Paring: Jey Uso x Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing, fingering, oral fem receiving, swearing, 18+

Summary: You partied really hard last night in Vegas with the bloodline as a celebration. Your memory comes back to you the following morning.

A/N: hi guysss! don't be afraid to send in any requests, also leave a note and comment if you really enjoyed this part. Enjoy!

As the dull ache pulsated through your temples, You slowly opened your eyes to the harsh sunlight seeping through the curtains of your hotel room. Squinting, you tried to piece together the fragments of memories from the night before, but they eluded you like water slipping through your fingers. The room was a disarray of half-empty bottles and scattered clothes, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. As you groaned and struggled to sit up, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks - your underwear wasn't attached to your body.

You stumbled across the plush carpet of your hotel room and into the bathroom. As you knelt in front of the toilet, your body convulsed and you retched, emptying the remnants of the previous night's revelry. Amidst the waves of nausea, a vivid flashback from the party flooded your mind - loud music, clinking glasses, and laughter echoing around you. you winced as the memories played out like a blurry movie, pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together in your throbbing head.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned against the bathroom sink, your legs spread wide as you felt his tongue delicately trace the contours of your folds. you moaned softly as he moved lower and lower until he finally reached your core. His tongue glided along your sensitive flesh, sending shivers down your spine as he explored every inch of your pussy with a slow and deliberate rhythm. you ran your fingers through his soft hair, pulling him closer as you felt yourself slipping further and further into a state of pure ecstasy. You could feel the cold metal of his grills on the inner lips of your pussy. "Fuuuuck Jeyyy pleasee!" you whimpered in a voice that was barely above a whisper as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure that he was delivering with his skilled tongue.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you gasped as you realized the full extent of what had happened. you had just had a sexual encounter with one of your favorite clients, something you had never done before and had always vowed never to do. your head still throbbed with the aftermath of the intense experience, but your pussy continued to tingle with a mix of pleasure and shock. you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and gather your thoughts. "SHIT," you whispered to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. "No way he actually-" you trailed off, unable to finish your thought as you struggled to come to terms with the reality of what had just occurred.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you attempted to calm yourself down in the wake of your recent sexual encounter. you turned on the sink and splashed your face with water, hoping to clear your head and wash away the memories that were still haunting you. But just as you were starting to feel a sense of calm, a loud ringing occurred in your ear, and your head began to ache more intensely. you frowned, feeling a sense of deja vu wash over you.

His fingers found their way to your wet pussy, and you moaned in anticipation as they began to explore your folds. You were desperate for his touch, begging him silently with your eyes as you pleaded for him to finger you. "Please," you whispered hoarsely as he complied, sliding his middle and ring finger deeply inside you. He pumped them harder and faster repeatedly, sending waves of pleasure through your body as you clung to the sink for support. You were so wet that the sound of your wetness filled the bathroom like the sound of macaroni cooking on the stove. "Jimmyyy!" you whined as you reached the height of your pleasure.

You almost lost your balance as the intensity of your pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. You clung to the door for support, your eyes closed as you tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. "This is really, really bad," you whispered to yourself, but your pussy seemed to have a mind of its own, craving the touch of Jey's mouth and Jimmy's fingers. You felt a deep sense of guilt wash over you as you surrendered to the pleasure, knowing that your actions were wrong but unable to resist the temptation.

"What's bad?" a voice asked from the other side of the door, causing you to jump in fright. You quickly opened the door to reveal your best friend Jessica, whom you had invited along on the trip. you grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom, her eyes wide with concern. "Bitch, what's wrong with you? Did you smoke my weed?" she demanded. You hesitated, unsure of how to explain what had happened the previous night. "No, I... I did some fucked up shit last night," you admitted. Jessica's eyebrows rose as she swayed her hips, "Oh yeah girl, you were up on that table, shaking that ass girl whaaat. I aint never seen you like dat but you were lit as fuck tho-" you cut her off mid sentence, "No, I'm saying, Jey-," her eyes lit up. "Girl you fucked Jey?" she whispered excitedly. "No.. he ate me out.." you corrected. Jessica's hand covered her mouth in shock as you added, "And... Jimmy... he fingered me..."

"Both???" Jessica exclaimed in disbelief as you revealed that you had engaged in sexual acts with both Jey and Jimmy. You covered your face with both hands as you felt guilty about your actions but also exhilarated by the thrill of it all. "I don't know what to do, Jessica," you whined, feeling overwhelmed. you felt the weight of the world crashing down on you. your best friend, Jessica, rushed to your side, embracing you tightly. "It's okay. You literally got a piece of the sexiest men in wwe babes,"Jessica whispered soothingly. your mascara streaked across your cheeks due to the water you splashed onto your face earlier. Jessica gently turned on the faucet, letting the warm water cascade over your face. With a soft towel, Jessica began wiping away the smeared makeup, all the while whispering words of encouragement. "You've got this shit in lock girl," Jessica repeated like a mantra, as she helped you wash away the physical and emotional remnants of your breakdown. The simple act of cleansing your face felt like a cathartic release, and you began to feel a glimmer of hope rekindle within her, knowing that you had a steadfast friend by your side.

There came a sudden, unexpected knock at the door of your hotel room, interrupting you. you cautiously approached the door and turned the knob, revealing Paul standing there with a solemn expression. His voice was low and urgent as he delivered the message, "The tribal chief wants to see you." With that, he swiftly turned on his heel and walked away, all while nonchalantly placing the phone back to his ear as if he had never stopped his conversation. Curiosity and a sense of foreboding filled the room as you wondered what the tribal chief could possibly want with you.

Jessica walked out of the bathroom and said, "Damn girl, I hope you didn't piss him off. Me? I'll piss him off on purpose because you know I like that dominant shit." Just then, she received a text on her phone, "Oh shit, I gotta go, girl, David wants to take me on a date!" She had met David the previous night at the party. As she walked past you towards the door, she exclaimed, "Good luck, girl, and tell me the tea later," blowing you a kiss. "Okay, love you, be safe," you added before she left.

You decided to get dressed. As you tugged the fitted shirt over your thick curls and down your frame, and then pulled a pair of blue jeans over your legs, the thought of whether he knew about your interactions with Jey and Jimmy made your head spin with questions. Grabbing your purse, you braced yourself for what was sure to be an awkward meeting.

#wwe fanfiction #jeysuso #jey uso smut #jey uso one shot #jey uso fanfiction #jimmy uso #the usos #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso x reader #wwe smut

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silantryoo · 1 year

Text

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — mansion parties

aeri uchinaga's mansion, gangnam-gu, seoul, korea.

WARNINGS ; intoxication, implied coercion, peer pressure, cheating, gaslighting, driving under the influence, drugs (cannabis usage), illegal substance use (5.1k)

yoo jimin loved parties.

she loved the faint smoke in the air, blurring the dim lights as swirls danced around above the twenty-something olds in the house. the rum, although cheap, gave her a sense of comfort that she knew all too well.

the dullness, the nausea. everything was perfectly disastrous. a concoction of all her dreams and hopes that amount to nothing but a strained knee, and years of aggravation to be overshadowed by her junior.

but most of all, she loved the smell of weed. it was almost as intoxicating as the leers girls would give her, undressing her with their eyes as she walked across the room.

she was wanted. she was loved.

jimin knew it was just for her body, for her face that she just happened to be gifted with. she knew that people would wage war just to look like her.

she was yoo jimin.

she hated it.

she hated the weight of her name, the last memory of her father dangling in front of her, mocking her like she does to herself in front of her mirror. she hated her face, the world too shallow to see the girl beneath, exhausted beyond belief. she hated her anger, volatile and quick to rise, none of which she had (nor wanted) control over.

she hated it. she hated herself. she hated everything. she hated the divorce, she hated the volleyball net that always seemed too high, she hated-

"minnie?"

she knew that voice.

it echoed in the back of her head when she didn't run fast enough, when she didn't play hard enough, when she looked at herself in the mirror and all she saw was a washed-out athlete.

it rang through her ears and into her veins when she saw jang wonyoung... when she saw l/n y/n.

jimin heart dropped, and despite her entire body screaming - begging, she turned, the heaviness in her chest crushing the remnants of her heart.

"yeji?"

y/n's anxiety was at an all-time high.

although part of her was ecstatic to finally stand her ground, a bigger part was terrified.

jimin was horrifying when she was angry, and y/n refused to see the sight of a blood-splattered, fist-shaped imprint on the wall again.

her eyes darted methodically, scanning the crowd of university alumni and students every few seconds before repeating.

once to the right, where choi yena was doing a keg stand near the kitchen (or trying to despite alexandra baek's very adamant demands for her to shut up and slow down), once to the middle where a sea of people crowded the entrance to the mansion foyer embellished with intricate swirls of gold and red, and once to the left where the room extended to a greater, much bigger hall that seemed to be the dining room.

there was no sign of jimin, and y/n didn't know if that scared her or reassured her.

"you okay?" minjeong grabbed her hand, squeezing it lightly.

despite the older girl's effort to reassure her, it only worsened the churning in her stomach. minjeong's icy hands were a reminder of her anxieties, and if it weren't for her iron grip, y/n would've pulled away.

"jimin's gonna kill me, unnie." y/n looked again. right, middle, left. "i shouldn't be here."

she's gonna kill me. she's really gonna kill me.

"you'll be fine." yuri grabbed her shoulder, smiling at the girl as if y/n's body wasn't screaming for her to leave the uchinaga residence. "just get drunk out of your mind and you'll forget all about her."

y/n shook her head, her palms tingling from the heightened fear.

being drunk meant lowering her guard, and that meant there was a higher chance of jimin seeing her.

y/n couldn't have a repeat of her last party at the uchinaga's.

"what if she finds me?" y/n felt like a colony of bees had overtaken her lungs.

minjeong looked at the two other girls, the worry etched on y/n's face setting waves of deja vu through them. she could feel the slight tremble of her hand, and the uncharacteristic waver of her voice.

she knew what this was. it was pure, unadulterated fear.

kim minjeong really hated yoo jimin.

"she won't." minju smiled, her eyes sincere despite the fear swirling through them. "we'll be here."

so will jimin. y/n couldn't help but think.

"yeah, unnie!" jiwon spoke up, her smile beaming past the others' dim ones. the younger girl was the only one out of all of them who hadn't truly experienced what jimin could do. "plus, i'm planning on staying sober."

y/n envied the girl, forgetting at that moment that she was dating the latter.

minju scoffed, her eyes rolling. "like i'm letting you drink."

jiwon glanced at her older sister, and that was enough for the girls' to know how the university freshman actually felt.

yuri crossed her arms, y/n scanning the right once more to hear the loud cheers chanting yena's name.

"you are such a buzz kill, kim minju."

minjeong followed the girl's eyes, grimacing at the older girl who seemed to be drowning in beer.

"the hell am i supposed to do?" minju's eyes scanned jiwon's face. "let her drink? she said she didn't want to."

jiwon looked at yuri, almost pleading with her to stop (or to continue. yuri wasn't that good at reading people).

"jiwon. baby kim." yuri squished the taller girl's cheeks. jiwon's face turned bright red, both from the proximity of yuri, and from the unsettling prescence of minju's anger. "do you want to drink?"

minju looked at her, an eyebrow-raising.

jiwon bit her tongue, not wanting to anger the older girl by commenting on how much she looked like their mom at that exact moment.

"um-"

minjeong's head turned back to the three, while y/n busied herself scanning the entire visible area for jimin.

she couldn't forget about jimin again. forgetting about jimin meant letting her guard down. y/n can't let down her guard, not when jimin is high, drunk, or both.

lily morrow knew what happened when y/n did.

"you can say yes, you can say no." yuri let go of jiwon's face, patting her shoulder lightly as smoke blew behind her. "but i'm only accepting it if it's your decision."

jiwon took a glimpse at her older sister, using the same guideline as she does with her mom.

one eyebrow arched was a warning, two eyebrows furrowed meant she was safe, and a frown meant she were in trouble for a light scolding. no expression meant jiwon was fucked.

minju currently had a frown.

"but minju-unnie-"

"fuck her." yuri inturpted, as if the vice president of the student council was no where near the two. "yes or no?"

jiwon stared at minju, trying to decipher her as y/n scanned the room again.

her sister's frown deepened at jiwon's hesitance, while yuri's appeared.

"...yes."

jiwon glanced.

minju had no expression.

"minjeong." yuri's voice dripped with pure happiness. "take her to the booze."

minjeong looked at y/n, then at yuri.

"why me?"

she didn't want to leave y/n when she was in this state, but god, did she love pissing minju off.

"you're the only one here that doesn't drink because of your ibs."

minjeong felt y/n stiffen, and for a moment she thought that the younger girl had seen the devil herself, but when she turned, y/n was staring at her... giggling.

"it's not ibs." minjeong felt her nose go red. "it's acid reflux, you idiot."

yuri shrugged, moving jiwon towards the older girl. "it still comes out of some hole."

y/n cleared her throat, and although minju was fuming, she couldn't help but let a chuckle escape.

"i'll kill you." minjeong let go of y/n, glaring at yuri as if her eyes were lasers. "minju, please stay with y/n so the yena groupie doesn't get her blackout drunk."

yuri punched the girl's shoulder.

"i think i should go with you." minju tried to reason, minjeong rubbing her arm as yuri stuck her tongue out at her. "jiwon's my sister-"

"i'll watch her." minjeong reassured. "i'm stupid, not irresponsible."

"but-"

"say bye-bye, baby kim."

jiwon grinned timidly, the dimple on her cheek not even showing. "sorry, unnie."

minjeong led the younger girl to the right, passing the keg stand that yena had absolutely failed at and making a beeline to the kitchen.

minjeong's eyes lightened as she ushered jiwon closer to what looked like spiked punch.

handing jiwon a cup, minjeong took a closer inspection at the pletohra of tiny, colorful bags with labels of THC printed on the bottom.

of course, the uchinaga family would have access to oversea's cannabis (not that minjeong minded).

thirty minutes later, the party was finally in full swing, the three-story mansion at full capacity, the bass of the built-in speakers shaking the it lightly.

zico played through the speakers while the smoke was starting to accumulate into a thick fog. the ceiling was covered in a light mist, flowing through the airducts and out to the many vents of the house. the smell of skunk was sure to stain the furniture for a couple of days, but aeri was sure that a couple (dozen) canisters of febreze would do the trick.

gaeul managed to squeeze the door open from the outside, smog immediately exiting as the other girl's entered.

"this is why you don't drink and drive, ahn yujin."

"i know." yujin blushed, closing the door with a sheepish smile. "we got it fixed though? plus the repairs are less than six hundred thousand won, so we'll be fine."

gaeul looked at her for a moment, rei shaking her head in the back as wonyoung scanned the area from right to the left.

"are you insane?"

"the road was blurry, okay?" yujin frowned, making her way in front of the shorter girl to push past the sea of people. "how was i supposed to know it was a curb?"

gaeul heard her name, and she waved to one of the girls that she had already forgotten the name of. she looked familiar, most likely from after a game, or practice, or class. gaeul couldn't remember.

yujin looked at gaeul.

"maybe with your eyes, unnie." rei rolled her eyes. she looked at wonyoung. "i hope y/n and them are still here."

wonyoung shook her head. "they might've left already."

gaeul scanned the room once more. ryujin told her she was gonna be here, and the setter wasn't in the mood to see her right now. her focus was on wonyoung, and getting the girl moderately tispy.

yujin bit her lip, looking at the tall girl with a frown. "sorry, wonnie."

"it's okay, unnie." wonyoung sighed, rei's eyes staring at the back of her head. "i don't think she even likes me, as delusional as i am."

delusional. gaeul knows that word too well.

gaeul turned to look at yujin, expecting her bright, puppy-like smile, but familiarity was something that was ingrained in her psyche, and there was nothing more familiar than the girl who ruined her life.

"she's delusional." yujin grinned, looking at the older girl. "right, gaeul-unnie?"

hwang yeji. all she saw was hwang yeji.

yujin stopped, "gaeul-unnie?"

she shouldn't have come today.

"hey, wonnie?" gaeul eyes were dull, just like the first day she met the younger girl. "wanna get shit-faced?"

jimin wanted to go home.

she wanted to feel the comfort of her ikea duvet, and watch the shitty drama that she'd fall asleep to on days when practice was hard. jimin wanted her laptop, where she'd rewatch her gameplay again and again, dissecting every little mistake until it eventually tore into her self worth. she wanted the glare of her phone, her heart fluttering as she texted y/n.

she wanted everything but this, everything but the reminder of yeji.

"jesus, jimin." aeri hobbled the taller girl into the living room, greeting the people she passed. "it's only one and you're already slurring your words."

"she asked me how i am." jimin laughed maniacally. "who does she think she is?"

aeri frowned, her hand patting the small of jimin's back.

"can you sit down?" aeri sighed, leaning over as jimin toppled onto her beige couch. "i swear to god, if you throw up on my carpet i will kill you."

jimin smiled.

"is that a promise?"

"stop it." aeri brushed her hair out of her face, the volleyball player's eyes trained on the dome-shaped ceiling. jimin wondered if she could play volleyball at this state. "i'm gonna get you water. you better stay put or i'll shove a vodka glass up your nostril."

jimin hummed, not hearing a response after.

she wondered if aeri had left, or if she was just staring at the girl in disappointment. it didn't matter. either way, jimin knew she was the latter.

sighing, she turned her head to the foyer, the door opening slightly as a figure managed to squeeze through.

huh.

jimin stood up.

the girl was her height. her face seemed tailored, almost too perfect to be natural but jimin knew it was. and her eyes. she knew them anywhere. the tired, unsatisfied swirl of dissatisfaction was a trait that she too, held.

it was like staring at a mirror.

"hey."

"um," the girl looked innocent, and jimin couldn't help but smile. "hello?"

"you're nakamura kazuha, right?"

kazuha blinked at her. "yeah?"

"yoo jimin." jimin pointed at herself, trying hard not to slur her words more than she should. "i'm yunjin's close friend."

close friend was a stretch that jimin was willing to take if that meant she was going to get laid.

"oh?" kazuha didn't look convinced. "yunjin's never mentioned you."

"i swear, that bitch." jimin laughed as if her and the middle blocker were anywhere near speaking terms. "are you looking for her?"

"yeah." kazuha sighed, tiredly. "is she here yet?"

jimin bit her tongue. she guessed that yunjin's phone had died a while ago, seeing as the girl had been here to help yena and her stupid pack of helpers set up for today.

whatever. her loss.

"not yet." jimin shook her head, the younger girl somehow believing her. "i could wait for her with you if you want. there's some jello shots and fireballs in the sunroom."

the ballerina looked at her, scanning her face and stopping at her mouth. a hunger, jimin deduced, was what she was seeing in huh yunjin's girlfriend.

jimin couldn't help but mentally thank aeri for letting her use her lip gloss.

"i don't think i should."

jimin's dark, hazy eyes captured kazuha's.

"it wouldn't hurt." kazuha hesitated. it took everything in jimin just to push once more, to not leave the girl alone. "c'mon, you're gonna let yunjin have all the fun?"

kazuha looked around. it was wrong to entertain a drunk girl, especially when she was in a relationship. "uh, i don't-"

"kazuha-ssi." jimin smiled, her teeth never showing and neither her intentions. "i'm not taking no for an answer."

jimin watched the girl, and the party roared as kazuha came to her decision.

"just one shot."

"good." perfect, even. "now, stay close. i don't want you getting lost."

kazuha looked at the side of jimin's face, and all she saw was a ballerina's dream. perfection.

"thank you, jimin-ssi." kazuha blushed.

jimin couldn't wait to see how this played out.

"thank you."

yuri had lost minju in the crowd earlier.

usually, the girl would've been aggravated, trying to find her vice president who seemed to like to wander the halls when she was drunk out of her mind, blabbering about her lover or something.

luckily, said lover had taken the girl away, and part of yuri finally understood why minju was so hung up on kim chaewon. the singer was always there, and so was minju. despite chaewon never saying the l word, her constant presence in minju's life was telling enough.

if only her and yena were like that.

yuri stumbled around, going through the pool entrance as a tipsy (drunk) y/n steadied her.

"alexandra!"

alex's face dropped as she talked to yena. "oh my god."

the international student turned to the very drunken girl, yena following her as if she hadn't just puked in the bushes of the uchinaga residence.

"holy fuck."

yena looked at her younger friend, wondering why she had kept this random girl away from her grasp.

she stood up, wiping the spit from her mouth as yuri approached. she needed to look at least put together if she wanted to pull, and not some alcoholic that got held back a year. behind her, yena recognized y/n, her cat-like eyes impossible to mistake for someone else.

yuri threw herself onto alex, as yena scanned y/n.

"aren't you wonnie's ex slash jimin's new plaything?"

plaything?

"unnie."

"what?" yena shrugged. the entire team knew about y/n one way or another, considering that jimin tended to dangle the girl in front of wonyoung like a dog treat. "is she not?"

y/n tightened her jaw. "i'm jimin's girlfriend."

"yeah, okay." jimin did always like them delusional. "that's what they all say."

yuri looked at y/n, part of her sobering up and ready to fight the love of her life if it came to (perhaps it would be a great story for their future kids).

"all?"

"unnie," alex nudged her. "stop it."

"what?" yena whined, tired of getting scolded by the younger girl. "she's not even jimin's type."

alex was at her limit.

"i will sew your mouth shut."

"no." y/n ushered, her brain not fully registering what was happening. jimin couldn't have been cheating on her. sure, she was an asshole, but jimin loved her, right? "let her continue."

alex closed her eyes, praying that yena would keep her mouth shut just for a moment.

"it's not my fault that jimin likes to fuck pretty things." yena muttered, her words loud enough to echo in y/n's brain.

"dude."

"it's not like she's actually jimin's girlfriend."

"are you dumb?" alex closed her eyes, yuri glancing at the younger girl beside her. "she is. and you just told her that her girlfriend is cheating on her."

jimin wouldn't cheat. she loved y/n. she was the one who stayed, the one who was there when wonyoung had left her many months ago. she was the one who held her close and whispered that everything was going to be okay as long as she had her.

jimin couldn't have.

"jimin's cheating on me?"

"um..." alex scratched her cheek lightly, unsure of what to do as yena undressed yuri with her eyes. "jimin likes people... things that look like her. so she can ruin them, i guess."

yena turned to her, frowning.

"should you be airing this out?"

"fuck yoo jimin." alex rolled her eyes, her brown irises glaring at the blue water in front of her. "she ruined my life."

"yeji ruined your life."

"she is yeji."

yeji. y/n had heard that name before, but never from jimin.

she had mentioned it in passing once, and jimin made her swear to never utter the word again. y/n held the older girl for the rest of the night, her thoughts lingering about who yeji was.

jimin told her not to worry about it, because it didn't matter. because jimin loved her.

"jimin wouldn't cheat on me."

"maybe she did, maybe she didn't," alex continued, watching as an exchange student from japan jumped into the pool head first. "but parties are her playground, and she doesn't stop at just one."

yena nodded, "she's like archie in riverdale."

alex turned to the older girl. "are you high?"

"yes."

"wh-" she should've stayed home and studied. "i'm going to strangle you."

y/n felt sick.

y/n turned around, leaving in a hurry to find the girl she was desperately avoiding since earlier. everything was wrong, and she needed wonyoung jimin. she needed her girlfriend.

"y/n!" yuri shouted, too tired to chase after her. she watched as the younger girl's figure disappeared into the crowd. "minju's gonna kill me."

"so," yena started, not caring that yuri's friend just had a massive breakdown in front of her. "wanna go somewhere private?"

yuri looked back at where y/n left, the sea of people erasing the girl's path without a trace.

minju was going to kill her, but she was going to kill herself for letting an opportunity like this pass.

"where the hell is aeri?"

there was something therapeutic about being high and drunk at the same time.

it had the same feeling of a midjump, where jimin's eyes were above the net, looking down at everyone who looked down on her.

she loved it.

"kazuha-ssi." jimin asked, downing another shot. "how long have you and yunjin been together?"

"huh?" kazuha was clearly drunk, her hand placed comfortably around jimin's waist. "a couple months."

jimin hummed, leaning in slightly so the younger girl could hear her better.

"do you love her?" jimin's hot breath grazed the hairs on kazuha's neck.

"i dunno." she didn't. "maybe."

"i see." jimin pulled back, assessing the disappointment that lingered in kazuha's eyes. the opposite hitter moved her hair out of her face. "you're really pretty, by the way."

"so are you."

jimin didn't need to be reminded.

"want some eddies?" she asked, her hand feeling lighter than usual.

"weed?" kazuha's dark eyes met jimin's. "i thought you weren't supposed to take them when you're drunk."

"it's fun when you're not supposed to do things but still do them." jimin said, her hand dangerously high to the ballerina's thigh. "right, kazuha-ssi?"

kazuha looked at her for a moment.

"where are they?"

and everything fell into place.

"let's go upstairs."

minjeong was a thousand percent high out of her mind.

she wasn't sure how much she had taken, but the way her head felt like it was going to explode was enough to say that it was too much. the colors around her seemed brighter, and she didn't know how long she had been lounging in the kitchen, but all she knew was people kept disappearing and appearing in front of her.

she didn't mind though, because jiwon was a talkative drunk, and everything that she was saying made minjeong want to pee her pants.

the girl looked at the five empty packets, wondering why they were all different colors and flavors.

"rei!" jiwon shook her, and it felt like she was getting time warped. "unnie, look it's rei!"

"yeah," minjeong couldn't stop smiling, despite seeing wonyoung. "i can see that."

"i was looking for you." rei frowned, earning a gag from yujin beside her. "it's been an hour."

"huh?" jiwon basically yelled, making minjeong giggle at her theatrics. "that's why my phone was dinging."

rei smiled. "are you drunk?"

"i think so?" jiwon grabbed minjeong by the arms, and the older girl felt them stop working. "minjeong-unnie, am i drunk?"

"yes." minjeong tried to nod, but it looked more like a bobble. "you are."

"where's y/n-unnie?" rei asked once more, wonyoung perking up despite minjeong's distaste.

"um, i dunno." jiwon shrugged. "she was with yuri-unnie and minju-unnie earlier i think."

minjeong leaned up, the weight of her head heavy on her neck.

her eyes made their way to the stairs, where she could see a faint smile on a familiar face, her hand wrapped around the waist of a stranger.

yoo jimin.

"oh." rei hummed. "so they're not here?"

"no."

"wonyoung!" minjeong could hear the taller girl getting called by yuna. still, she didn't take her eyes off jimin. "drink this, and let's go."

"i don't think-" wonyoung tried to protest, but yuna had already shoved the shot glass down her throat.

"drink."

wonyoung was dragged away, presumably to the front where a huge game of cham-cham-cham was happening.

"can you watch her?" minjeong looked at rei, yujin too distracted watching gaeul make out with girl #4 of the night to respond. "i need to see something."

"minju-unnie said to not leave me." jiwon frowned, her eyes wide like a cartoon character.

"then don't tell minju."

"okay."

wonyoung entered the bathroom, both pleased and surprised that there were neither people hooking up, nor a passed-out girl in the bathtub.

she just needed to stay here until yuna had gotten tired and found another person to harrass (most likely haewon, wherever that girl was).

she closed the toilet lid, sitting on it as she grabbed her phone. wonyoung had only been here for an hour and her feet were already killing her.

the door opened.

wonyoung yelped, the stranger covering her eyes. "sorry, i didn't know that-"

"y/n?"

y/n moved her hand out of her face.

"wonyoung?" y/n world slowed for a moment, and it was almost as if her guard broken down. she shook her head. "i can't deal with this right now. i have to find jimin."

"what?" that didn't sound right to wonyoung's ears. she stood up, pulling y/n into the washroom. "are you okay?"

"i-" y/n's face was flushed red, the hairs on the back of her neck clung to her like a koala on a tree. "where's jimin?"

"i don't know." wonyoung said slowly, ushering the girl to sit down on the closed toilet lid. "do you need water?"

"i need to find jimin."

"slow down." wonyoung guided the girl, her delusions pushed aside for a moment. "sit down. please."

"i can't." y/n shook her head, almost vomiting at how quick she did. "jimin-"

"can wait." wonyoung stated, grabbing her purse as she rummaged through it. "water? lipgloss? tissue?"

there was a moment of silence, and wonyoung was afraid she had hallucinated y/n to begin with.

"do you hold everything in your bag?"

"maybe." wonyoung smiled at the earnest chuckle y/n gave her. "so what would you like?"

"water."

wonyoung nodded, handing the girl a bottle of spring water that the volleyball player always had at least one of. y/n couldn't help but smile as the taller girl opened it for her.

wonyoung was the same, and she loved it.

she handed y/n the bottle, the older girl taking a sip before closing it. she could feel the heat from her cheeks emitting against the cold air of the newly renovated bathroom

"did you ever cheat on me?"

"what?" wonyoung's eyes buldged out almost comedically. "no, oh my god. i love you. why would i? did you think i did?"

wonyoung paused for a moment.

did she just...

"no." y/n shook her head, smiling at her in the way wonyoung remembered. "i don't think you did."

wonyoung hummed, pushing the shower curtain aside as she sat on the edge of the golden tub. "do you think jimin-sunbaenim did?"

y/n shrugged. "i don't know."

she didn't want to know, because she knew that deep down, she had hoped jimin did cheat on her.

sensing the uneasiness of the older girl, wonyoung scooted closer to her, the chattering of the other university kids muffled by the bathroom door.

it was almost surreal, if not for the scrubbing bubbles that aeri (or her many butlers and maids) had left on the counter.

"do you like the party?" wonyoung asked.

"huh?" y/n looked over to wonyoung, her eyes glossed over with thought, as if a sheen had covered its entirety. "i guess. it's loud, i'm drunk. you know."

"i do." wonyoung chuckled, her eyes falling down to y/n's hand. there was a slight fidgeting, but it was fading. wonyoung continued to talk. "have you tried yena-unnie's cotton candy shot yet?"

"no."

"it's good." wonyoung had been forced to drink it earlier that week, along with soy soju, apple cider rum and fish sauce vodka. "it tastes like that chocolate we had during first-year orientation."

"i remember!" y/n's eyes brightened in a way they hadn't before. "the one in front of the spanish club sign-up sheet."

wonyoung looked at y/n.

embarrassed, y/n began to fidget once more. "did i remember it wrong?"

"no." wonyoung shook her head. "i'm just wondering how you remembered it so clearly."

safe. y/n felt safe and warm.

the swarm of bees in her chest had morphed into butterflies, and everything felt like a 90s movie, just how she liked it.

just how wonyoung liked it.

"i miss you."

wonyoung stared at y/n.

"what?"

"y/n!" minjeong burst through the door, her eyes red and her stance wobbly. "wonyoung?"

wonyoung looked at the older girl, before minjeong grabbed y/n in a rush.

wonyoung followed them closely, not trusting the inebriated kim minjeong.

"minjeong-unnie?" y/n could feel her wrist starting to hurt. "where are we going?"

"somewhere." minjeong shoved past the swarm, earning curses and complains in her wake. behind her, wonyoung apologized as she continued to tail them.

minjeong turned around. "can you leave us alone?"

"no."

"fucking bitch." minjeong's grip tightened, making y/n wince slightly. "this isn't your business."

"you're high out of your mind right now." wonyoung countered, minjeong's eyes dilated beyond belief. "i don't trust you."

"very fucking original, wonyoung." minjeong laughed, her anger getting amplified by the substance inside her. "you want a medal? or are you gonna trade y/n for that too?"

"unnie."

minjeong turned around, yanking y/n upstairs faster than she could keep up. "let's go."

the older girl turned the first right at the top of the staircase, the lack of people making y/n feel unsettled. she shouldn't be here, this wasn't her house.

before she could protest, minjeong let go of her arm and gestured to the door.

"open this door." y/n could hear faint moaning inside. "open it."

"i don't know-"

"open the fucking door!" minjeong shouted, making y/n flinch into wonyoung.

wonyoung shoved minjeong slightly, but not hard enough to provoke the girl.

"watch what you're saying."

"oh suck me a dick, jang wonyoung." minjeong rolled her eyes.

minjeong hated how wonyoung was trying to play the hero in the story, as if she wasn't the cause of the entire ordeal.

not wanting to anger minjeong any further, y/n creaked the door open, the occupants too lost in their own world to notice a pair of eyes watching them.

y/n had felt this before, the day that wonyoung had left her.

"jimin?"

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@serenitygrace24 @moontealemonpie @writingficsblog @kittyeij @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @babycubchae @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @slowlyturninggay291 @awkwardtoafault @captivq @ddeonutz @noiacha @sserabey @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @lvwr @perfectsunlight @forever-in-the-sky2 @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @yunjinhart @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @danistolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @livelaughloveyujin @luveuly @marimo-anura @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora @wonyoluvr

#jang wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #aespa x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

433 notes · View notes

crow-aeris · 25 days

Text

Okay but like, imagine:

a little phoenix!Tim finding out that Jason died, and goes absolutely balistic. He sneaks out in the middle of the night and into the cemetary. He brings a shovel, a crowbar, and gets to digging.

in the dead of night, illuminated by only the glowing orange-red light of his wings, Tim pries open a wooden coffin with dirty and splintered hands before peering down at the resting body. It was bruised, burned, lifeless, and Tim could feel some part of himself SHRIEK at the wrongness. Tim assumes it’s beacuase he’s desecrating the resting place of his personal hero… but little does he know…

Why does he feel this unsettled? He’s seen dead bodies before, so why does Jason’s make him feel… disgusted?

with shaky hands, tim plucks out one of his primaries, a beautiful glowing thing capable of bringing back dead rabbits and dogs. he gingerly places it on the center of jason’s chest, waiting with baited breath, but…

Why wasn’t it working?

WHY WASN’T IT WORKING?!

Panic seizes Tim’s throat, but h forces himself to remain calm. Surely there’s a reason for this, right? He’s only ever tested his feathers on animals, and- and animals don’t wear clothes, so that must be the thing stopping him, right?

His hands are shaking, trembling and twitching as he tried to undo the suit Jason was buried in. Tim knows he’d hate this- both the suit and the dying- but what can a dead kid do to stop what happens after death?

Nausea rises in his stomach and bile burns the back of his throat, but Tim forces himself to continue. Goddamnit he’ll continue, even if it kills him. As long as Jason comes back, he’ll continue.

The sound of fabric tearing fills the air, but Tim could barely hear it over his rabbit-quick heart pounding in his ears.

Tim tries again, resting the feather onto Jason’s cold, unmoving chest…

But- but there was nothing.

Nothing- why wasn’t anything happening?!

The plucked feather was slowly losing its glow the longer it was severed from Tim’s body. If it had been used, then the feather would’ve glowed brighter before shattering into hundreds of smaller sparks and being absorbed into the creature’s skin. The light would disperse from the original point before settling and healing the wounds from the level of most, to least lethal. The smaller the feather, the less the effect the healing took…

He’s tried to heal the dead before, and it always worked on animals, so why. Wasn’t. It. WORKING?

Tim clenched his jaw, eyes narrowed with frustration before bringing his wing closer to to chest. He reached up for a handful of feathers before YANKING.

The sharp and metallic taste of blood coated his tongue as tears blurred his vision. A fistful of bright glowing feathers lit of Jason’s peaceful expression. Tim felt his breath hitching with the pain, but he shoved past it. Instead, Tim forced his handful of primaries, coverts, and down against Jason’s chest…

And yet, it refused to work.

It refused to work.

Why was it refusing to work?!

He wailed.

“WHY. WON’T. YOU. WORK?!” Tim screamed, tears staining his cheeks, rolling down his chin and splashing against the fading feathers. The familiar tingling sensation spread from his back, reaching his brusied and battered hands before coalescing in his bloodied lip. He sobbed, collapsing into the disturbed earth as his tears stained Jason’s suit jacket. Tim’s throat ached from the scream, but he managed to sob out, “Why won’t you work? I just want Jason back… Please, I just want Robin back…”

Distracted and drowning in his grief, tim didn’t realize the assassing clothed in darkness creep up behind him. Pressing a damp cloth against his nose and mouth. He tried to fight, a strangled scream fleeing his lips for the barest of seconds before everything was engulfed in darkness.

=====

Hey y’all… if enough ppl show support for this little story, I’ll continue to write ;]

I’ve already thought out how tim’s healing works :3 (please ask me, I’m literally going feral here)

Part two is up, and it’s here! (I literally love hyperlinks so much)

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anotherspnfanfic · 1 year

Text

Surprise Visits

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x reader

Word count: 2400

Warnings: seizure, epileptic reader, possible inaccuracies

Summary: Eddie shows up unexpectedly. Reader is glad he did for more than one reason.

A/N: This is only my second time writing for Eddie and last time it was a co-write. I did a whole bunch of research and had some proof reading from the lovely @thatonewriter15 and @muchamusedaboutnothing. Hopefully this is a somewhat accurate representation... 🤞🏻

Trudging up the stairs towards her apartment, she cursed the elevators for being broken. All she wanted to do was collapse into her bed and sleep for two days. Unfortunately, that was impossible since it was only Wednesday and she had an important meeting first thing in the morning.

Passing the third floor, she considered if she was going to eat before she went to bed. She was starving, but cooking seemed like too much effort and time. Then she considered having something delivered but guessed that would take even longer than cooking. She decided to just eat a spoonful of peanut butter so that she wasn’t battling hunger while trying to fall asleep.

Finally reaching the fifth floor, she exited the stairwell and took the four steps to her door. It was a small victory for climbing the stairs— at least she didn’t have further to go once she got to her floor.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Immediately, she dumped her purse, jacket, and laptop case on the floor beside the door before pulling her shoes off one at a time to drop in the pile.

Rounding the corner into the living room, she gasped. Her favorite scented candle was lit on the coffee table next to several containers of Chinese take-out. Eddie stood from the couch as she approached.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she let herself fall into his embrace.

He pecked a kiss to her temple as he pulled back to look at her. “You sounded a little overwhelmed when you called earlier. So I had Buck take Christopher for the night, and I brought you dinner.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she was overcome with emotions. “I love you. You are the best. I was about to eat some peanut butter because I’m too exhausted to cook or wait for delivery.”

“And let me guess, you’ve barely eaten anything all day?” he chastised.

She shrugged. “I had a bagel for breakfast.”

He pulled her over to sit on the couch. “I’m glad I came then.”

“I’m really glad you did.” She grabbed a fortune cookie while he started to open the other containers. “Are you staying all night?”

He nodded. “I’m all yours. Buck is taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow.” He dumped some rice on the plates he’d gotten out of the kitchen. “Chicken, beef, or shrimp?”

“Some of each, please.” She set the fortune cookie back down as she stood. ”I’m gonna go change out of these work clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Before Eddie could even finish dishing up the food, she returned in sweats and a shirt she’d stolen from him.

As she sat back down, she picked up and opened the fortune cookie. She pulled out the piece of paper. “‘Life will soon become interesting,’” she read. “I think it’s already plenty interesting.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, where’s the one that says we get a vacation soon?”

He finished adding everything to their plates as she flipped on the television and started an episode of How I Met Your Mother.

They ate in a comfortable silence and had finished before the twenty-minute episode had ended. He set the mostly-empty plates on the table, and she shifted to curl in against his side while he wrapped his arm snugly around her shoulder.

As the credits rolled, he asked, “Bed or another episode?”

She yawned. “One more. I’m probably going to fall asleep, but I’m comfy.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as the TV rolled over into a new episode on its own. “As you wish, mi amor.”

She had just started to doze off when, suddenly, she was overcome with a familiar, distinct, full-body tingling sensation along with intense nausea. She quickly shifted to leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

Eddie reached out and placed a tentative hand between her shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?”

She stood and moved over to the empty dining room, which she kept devoid of a table and other furniture precisely for this reason. “Seizure,” she stated as calmly as she could before lying down in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Eddie was surprised, but quickly stood. He grabbed a blanket from the recliner and moved to sit beside her. He knew about her epilepsy and the medications she took for it. However, in the eighteen months they’d been dating, she’d never had a seizure. He lifted her head to slide the folded blanket underneath.

She let out a quiet whimper before her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Okay. You’re okay. I got you.” He pulled out his phone, opened the timer, and set it on the floor. He continued to whisper soft reassurances to her and started the timer as soon as she started to seize.

Despite his training and having treated patients with seizures at work, he couldn’t help but notice the way his hands shook as he carefully kept her rolled on her side. “You’re okay,” he repeated, more to reassure himself than anything. He continued to repeat it several more times as he waited for her to stop.

He felt his anxiety spike again as he watched the timer hit four minutes. He thought about what time it was, trying to figure out which shift was manning the 118 currently. He knew if she hit five minutes, he would have to call 9-1-1. As the timer rolled past four and a half minutes, her movements finally began to slow. He breathed a sigh of relief and pushed some hair out of her face as she stilled. Next, he used the corner of the blanket to wipe the saliva that had dribbled out.

For his own peace of mind, he checked her pulse, satisfied that it was steady and only slightly tachy. Next, he counted her breaths, ensuring her breathing was also back to normal. Then he sat there, running his fingers gently through her hair, and waited for her to wake.

Finally, after several minutes of anxiously waiting, she groaned.

“Hey, sweetheart. You with me?”

Slowly, she cracked her eyes open and looked around for several moments before finally landing on his face. She was clearly confused and still disoriented.

“You’re okay. You just had a seizure,” he explained. “Do you remember feeling it coming on?”

She thought for a minute before finally nodding. Groaning again, she rolled onto her back and threw an arm over her face. “Trash,” she slurred.

Eddie shifted away to grab the trash can sitting in the corner and move it beside her. “Do you want to sit up?”

“Not yet.” She lied there, trying to regain her bearings.

He took her hand in his and ran his thumb softly over her knuckles. “Anything I can do?”

“Mmmm, make the jackhammer in my head stop? And the nausea, too.” She rolled back onto her side before starting to push herself into a sitting position and pulling the trash can between her knees. “This blows.”

Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her temple. “I know. I’m sorry. Do you want something for the headache?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to puke it right back up.”

She didn’t know how long she sat there, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to clear the nausea. All the while, Eddie rubbed soothing circles across her back. The soreness was already starting to settle in all her muscles. Eventually, she pushed away the trash can and leaned into him.

“Ya know, this isn’t the kind of interesting I was hoping for. Stupid fortune cookie,” she grumbled.

“Me either. You think you’re ready to move?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her gently.

“Yeah.” She nodded. He stood, and she reached a hand out for him. “Help me up?”

Instead of pulling her up, he bent down and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back and easily lifted her. He walked slowly towards her bedroom, cautious of making the nausea worse, then set her gently on the bed. “What do you need?”

“Uh, I will take that Tylenol now. Plus, water and some Advil for in the morning, and the trash can by the bed,” she listed, then, with a pout, added, “Please?”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

She laid back into her pillows as she waited for him to return. Next thing she knew, she was peeling her eyes open to find Eddie beside her, rubbing a hand across her head.

“Here, take these and then you can go to sleep.” He handed her the pills and then opened a bottle of water before offering that as well.

Once she’d swallowed them, she took a few deep breaths to clear the flare of nausea. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He pressed another kiss to her hairline.

“As much as seizures suck, it’s really nice having you here to help. I’ve just slept on the floor in there so many times because I just didn’t have the energy to move.”

“I’m glad I was here. I hate that you’ve had to go through that alone.”

“I hate that I have to go through it at all.” She sighed. “And I just broke my longest streak. At least I didn’t try to take a chunk out of my tongue.”

“Ouch.”

She nodded. “Yeah, one time, I had to get stitches from biting it so bad.”

He cringed. “That sounds awful.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering closed. “Work is really going to suck tomorrow.”

“No, it won’t.” Eddie argued. ”You’re taking the rest of the week off.”

“I can’t!’ she declared, opening her eyes and leaning forward. “I have too many things to get done and a meeting first thing that we’ve been working toward for three weeks.”

“You just had a seizure,” he pointed out the obvious. “For the first time in, what, two years? And a long one at that. You were about twenty seconds away from a trip to the hospital. You don’t think your stress levels had something to do with this?” His tone was one of frustration, but she could tell he was just worried.

She sighed, knowing he was right. “Maybe.”

Eddie climbed into the other side of the bed and settled nearly in the middle. “So take the long weekend. Just relax and get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Shifting to curl into his side, she giggled. “You’re not a doctor.”

He huffed. “Medic’s orders. Is that better? Or I can call a doctor.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Rolling impossibly closer to her, he pressed one more kiss to her forehead. “Good night, mi amor.”

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her alarm clock. She was surprised to find it was nearly ten already. Slowly, she shifted onto her back and turned her head to look at the other side of the bed. She found Eddie sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Good morning,” he greeted as he noticed she was awake. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore. Which is pretty much what I expected.” She took Eddie’s hand in hers. “And maybe a little grateful that I got to sleep in and I don’t have to get up and go to work.”

He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “You needed it.”

“Oh, shit!” she panicked. “I didn’t call. I missed the meeting. I’m gonna get fired!”

Eddie shushed her. “I called. Just breathe. It’s okay. I called earlier and talked to your boss. He knows you’ll be out today and tomorrow and told me to tell you to take Monday also, if you need to.”

She took a deep breath and let herself relax. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course. How about some breakfast?”

“Mmm. Yes, please.”

Eddie let go of her hand and got up off the bed. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared out of the room, and she could hear him moving around her kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a plate and set it on the bed in front of her.

She looked up at him, surprised. “Since when do you make omelettes?”

“Uhh, well, never?” He laughed. “I may have called in reinforcements. Bobby dropped it off earlier. I just reheated it according to his very direct instructions.”

“Eddie! I could have just had some cereal or something. You didn’t need to make him drive over here so early on his day off.” She reached over to grab her phone off the nightstand.

“I figured you could use real food. I was going to order delivery, but Bobby offered.”

“Why would he have offered?” She opened Bobby’s contact to send him a thank you text. “Oh. You told him about last night.”

“I couldn’t fall asleep. Then they were all texting in the group thread. So when they asked why I was still up, I told them. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have without asking you first.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like my epilepsy is a secret. They’re your—our— friends. I’m sure I would have told them anyway.”

He nodded. “Okay. Eat and then you can go back to sleep for a bit. If you want.”

She cut a piece off the omelette and ate it. As she chewed, she spoke, “Bobby says we’re invited over there for dinner if I’m feeling up to it. I told him we would let them know a little later today.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

She took another bite of her food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Shaking his head, he explained, “I ate earlier.”

“Oh, right.” She glanced at the clock. “I forgot it was so late already.”

“Anything else I can get for you?”

She contemplated for a moment. “Umm, maybe a glass of apple juice?”

He disappeared from the room with a simple nod.

Soon after he returned, she finished her omelette and he took the plate into the kitchen.

“Did you want to go back to sleep?” he asked.

“How about a shower and then a movie on the couch?” she countered, throwing off the blankets she was still tucked under. As she stood, dizziness flared, causing her to sway slightly before sitting back down.

Eddie was in front of her instantly, steadying her. “How about a bath instead?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz fanfic #911 fanfic #911 oneshot #hurt/comfort #epileptic reader #seizures

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weyrwolfen · 13 days

Text

Caveat Emptor: Chapter 1 - Mens Rea

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Commanders Fox, Thorn, Thire, and Stone

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm, injuries, loss of autonomy

“… require to complete your mission?”

Fox’s right hand hovered over his left vambrace. A light was flashing on the right side of his armor’s control panel, signaling the completion of some task. He’d been typing something…

Little gods, his head hurt.

“CC-1010, what do you require to complete your mission?” the same voice, a very familiar voice, repeated.

“Thorn?” Fox asked, looking up. His vision was blurred, but not so severely that he couldn’t make out Thorn, Stone, and Scav lined up on the other side of his desk, all three fully armored and standing at precise parade rest.

Thorn’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly, and he asked, “You back with us, Fox?”

Fox would have liked to answer, but his head was pounding viciously in time with his pulse. His stomach heaved, and he tore at his helmet, pulling it off with shaking hands.

Someone shoved a wastebin on the desk in front of him, just in time to catch the mess as his stomach violently emptied itself.

Thorn cursed a steady stream of invectives in at least three languages. Someone pried Fox’s helmet out of his grip, and a gloved hand landed on the back of his neck, heavy and grounding. He had no idea who it was, and he wasn’t exactly in a position to look up and check at the moment.

Ration bars and nutrient slurry had about the same texture going down as they did coming back up, but the accompanying stomach acids bit at the back of his throat and burned inside his sinuses where some of the vomit had taken a decidedly unwelcome alternate escape route. All of that would have been unpleasant enough, but Fox was much more concerned with the way every move, every twitch, sent burning agony searing behind his eyes.

Something metallic pressed against the side of his neck. There was a quiet beep, a soft hiss, and then a wave of tingling cold.

The pain receded, dragged down by a now-familiar cocktail of powerful painkillers, anti-nausea medications, and stims to try to counter the mental fog and artificial exhaustion caused by the other two. Fox locked his knees, hands braced on his desk to either side of the wastebin to stop them from trembling too obviously.

He karking hated his men seeing him like this.

Scratch that, he just karking hated this. Full stop.

Fox spat in the bin, trying to clear some of the taste from his mouth. “How long?” he asked, throat raw and voice correspondingly hoarse.

“Four hours,” Thorn answered somewhere off to Fox’s left. “We think.”

Four hours. Not so long, all things considered.

Four hours during which his highly-trained, highly-competent body was up and wandering around Coruscant, doing kark even knew what, utterly outside of his conscious control.

Fox forced himself to keep breathing slowly and evenly, clamping down on the sick horror that was creeping down his spine. He really ought to be used to this by now. It certainly happened to him enough.

“Here,” Scav said, voice no longer filtered through his helmet’s vocoder. The hand on Fox’s nape vanished, and an open canteen appeared in his slowly clearing field of vision.

He accepted it, took a small sip to rinse out his mouth, and spat again. A drop of blood landed in the bin, bright red against the rest of the yellowish mess and empty stim wrappers.

“I’m bleeding,” he admitted flatly. They’d been tracking his symptoms for a while now, trying to figure out what the kriff was going on. The headaches and nausea were getting consistently worse. The blood was new though.

“Let me see,” Scav said. It wasn’t a request.

Fox straightened, stance unnaturally stiff to counter his lingering unsteadiness, and gestured vaguely towards his face. Scav just pressed his lips together in a thin, unhappy line before fishing a few squares of sterile pads out of his medkit.

“Here,” he said, handing Fox the pads. “Pinch your nostrils closed with that and tip your head forward. Not backward. You’ve already puked once today.”

The look Fox leveled at Scav was scathing.

The medic just stared back at him, thoroughly unintimidated and unimpressed.

Maybe Fox was slipping. Maybe the shakiness and wastebin of puke on his desk was detracting from his usual ability to intimidate his troopers. Or maybe the Kaminoans electroshocked any kind of reasonable fear response out of medic-track clones. Who even knew at this point?

Fox pinched his nostrils closed and tipped his head forward, glowering out from underneath his lowered brows.

Scav ignored him and instead turned his attention to pulling the liner out of Fox’s wastebin and tying it off. Thank kriff for that.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Thorn asked, hands gripping the back of the chair on the opposite side of Fox’s desk.

Did they really need to do this standing? Stims or not, Fox’s head was swimming.

Kark it, he was still the commanding officer here. He was going to sit down before he fell down.

“I left Disc in charge of security for Senator Leshro’s press conference to respond to a report of outages affecting the cameras in Thesh 16,” Fox said, lowering himself into his chair. The worn, battered thing was more comfortable than it had any right to be. “I spoke to Odal, something about rodents chewing on the wiring. Someone commed me…”

Whatever these lapses really were, they always started with a comm. That had been the first thing they’d recognized. To date, it was just about the only pattern they’d been able to pin down related to these incidents.

It was difficult even thinking about it. Fox’s mind tried to gloss over the gap, slither away from even considering it. As best as they could tell, these blackouts started as soon as Fox arrived on Coruscant, but it had taken months for him to even recognize that something was happening. They’d been infrequent at first, sporadic, but they were picking up in frequency and duration as time went on.

He should have reported the lapses to the Chancellor as soon as he had realized what was happening, but something always stopped him. The same self-preservation instinct they’d all learned back on Kamino, where hiding weaknesses of any kind was necessary to their survival. Sheev Palpatine smiled at all the right times and said all of the right words, but every time Fox was in the man’s presence, he left in a cold sweat. It was irrational; Fox couldn’t identify a single piece of solid evidence to explain his body’s involuntary reactions. But there were only two things he trusted without thought or question: his instincts and his brothers. Everything else had to earn it.

Especially natborn politicians with gentle smiles and cold, sharp eyes.

And so Fox had instead informed a select number of his brothers.

As it turned out, he wasn’t the only one experiencing missing time and unexplainable inconsistencies in his reports. His lapses had just been happening more frequently than the others’.

The fact that he was not the only one had sunk Fox’s initial idea for how to fix the situation. A single death among the Guard’s commanders could be made to look like an accident. But all four of them would be nearly impossible to conceal. And even then, it wouldn’t guarantee that the underlying threat had been removed. If they were all already compromised, then there was no telling how extensive the problem was.

And if anyone outside of the Guard learned about their situation, chances were good they’d all be decommissioned en masse. His own death Fox could accept. But not the deaths of all the brothers under his command.

So they investigated. They’d had no other choice. None of them had been trained for it, but on Coruscant, they’d had to learn. As more and more duties were piled on their heads, they’d had to learn fast.

But finding any actionable leads proved to be difficult.

As the most frequently affected, tracking Fox’s actual movements seemed like a critical first step. However, it rapidly became apparent that one of the first things he – or rather CC-1010 – did when he received those comms was to deactivate his armor’s recording devices. The three times they’d tried hiding a tracking chip or recording device inside Fox’s armor, CC-1010 had removed them, too.

Fox was fairly certain that the others had figured out another way to keep track of his movements. They never said anything concrete, and he made sure to not ask.

Now, if he could just remember something. Anything.

Four kriffing hours. There was no telling what he might have done.

Scav was talking again, words buzzing against the edges of Fox’s wandering attention. He needed to focus, but the meds were making it difficult.

The meds. Sure. Not like a command-track clone would be weak enough to disassociate in the comfort and security of his own office.

Medical scans. Scav wanted permission to perform a medical scan, to check Fox for additional injuries.

Fox nodded.

It took a few minutes for Scav to run his tests and interpret the results. Minutes Fox didn’t want to admit he needed to re-engage with his surroundings.

The others just stood guard, Thorn at Fox’s side and Stone blocking the door.

Fox was mildly dehydrated and his blood chemistry was beyond irregular. The scanner flagged Fox’s brainwaves as ‘anomalous,’ whatever that meant. He had a variety of minor cuts and contusions scattered across his body, but who on base didn’t? There was nothing concrete in those scans, nothing actionable. Scav still wanted Fox to report to the medbay for observation after the other two commanders were done with him.

There was no point in arguing. At least no one tried to object when Fox gathered up a stack of datapads on the way out of the room. The work of running the Guard didn’t disappear just because Fox’s body took the occasional ‘involuntary side-mission.’

Fox was just steady enough on his feet to march down to the room they converted for their off-the-books investigation, buckets back on as an unspoken message to any passing Guard that they were not to be bothered.

When they arrived, Fox put his own codes into the security panel and pushed his way inside. Anyone searching for blueprints of the building would only see a small broom closet surrounded by storage rooms too full of shelves and crates to make it obvious that their dimensions didn’t quite match the ones recorded in the official floorplans. And if any trespassing natborn did get a little too nosy for their own good, the door panel would return a rather benign-looking error message and send out a security ping in response to anything other than a Guard commander’s personal codes.

The Guard’s slicers did good work, and all of them knew when to refrain from noticing things around base.

Fox had never meant for things to go this far, involving more and more of their men in this deception, but they were all in too deep to course correct now.

There was a medical cot situated in one corner of the space. Fox made his way towards it, placing the datapads on a nearby table before turning to face his brothers, hands out and palms up. Waiting.

Thorn and Stone worked over Fox’s body like it was an active crime scene.

Maybe that was what it was. Maybe that was exactly what Fox was.

They dusted his plate for fingerprints and swabbed his gauntlets for chemical residues. They misted him from bucket to boots with luminol and sampled anything that fluoresced. They imaged and tweezed, bagged and tested. All according to cobbled together CSF protocol, all completely off the books. The terminals they were using weren’t networked with the rest of the base. The equipment had been reported as damaged and disposed of in the Guard’s official inventories or ‘borrowed’ from CSF surplus.

Data started to roll in, providing disturbing hints, but no solid answers.

His blasters’ charge packs were at 87% and 92%. They should have been full.

There was blood on his gauntlets, just a single drop nearly lost against the red paint, and even less than that on his right pauldron. The sample on his hands tested as clone-standard. It was most likely his own, probably from his nosebleed earlier. The sample from his pauldron was human but lacked the genetic markers of a Fett clone. To get any more detailed identification, they’d need to run the sample through the CSF’s database, and that would require some creativity and the help of one of their slicers.

In addition to the blood, Fox had traces of chemical accelerants on his hands and greasy soot on his kama, something organic and too degraded from the heat to properly identify.

They brushed all sorts of fine particulates out of the treads of his boots, fibers and foodstuffs and flecks of plascrete. Some of it was identifiable – the red filaments were consistent with the carpeting in several of the hallways in the Senate dome, the keratinous ovals were shed massif scales, the brown grains were crystals of instant caf powder – and some of it was not. Fox doubted any of it would be useful, but Thorn and Stone bagged and tagged it all anyway, storing it away for later reference, just in case.

Then his armor came off and they started the same process on his blacks.

More blood, more chemical residues. Two silver hairs, human or near-human in origin.

Then on his skin.

The entire process was invasive as all kriff, but no more so than their medical screenings had been back on Kamino. At least here, he had datapads of busywork to distract himself from the poking and prodding, swabbing and sticking.

At least he was safe among brothers he trusted.

“Huh,” Stone said thoughtfully. “Thorn, come here.”

Fox looked up from the requisition forms he’d been signing and found his brother hovering in front of him holding a small UV stick next to Fox’s cheek.

Thorn, who’d been entering something into the terminal, immediately dropped what he was doing and walked over to the exam table.

“What does that look like to you?” Stone asked, passing the stick from left to right in front of Fox’s face.

Fox’s eyes tracked the light for a moment, and then took a moment to assess Stone’s scrupulously neutral expression and Thorn’s badly concealed fury.

“Don’t touch it,” Thorn finally said, turning on his heel and going back to the desk.

Fox caught Stone’s eye. “Tell me,” he said, tone just shy of a direct order.

“There’s an oval-shaped bruise here,” Stone said, fingers hovering near Fox’s left cheek without actually touching. “And four more here,” he continued, shifting to Fox’s right cheek and down towards the underside of his jaw. “They’re too faint to see under regular light just yet, but the spacing suggests–”

“A handprint,” Fox interrupted. Someone had grabbed him by the face, palm over his mouth, and squeezed hard enough to bruise. Why? He took a deep breath, ruthlessly stamping out the instinctive need to raise a hand to his cheek to press down on the bruising so he could feel it. He could imagine several dozen different scenarios for how he might have gotten those bruises, each worse than the last. “Any idea whose?”

“Standard human to near-human digit number and configuration, no evidence of claws or other anatomical markers,” Stone reported, keeping the report strictly professional. “We’ll need measurements to be sure, but I’d guess a hand on the larger end of medium human-standard. And there is some kind of residue coating each fingerprint.”

Thorn was back with a recording device in hand. “I need images before we try pulling samples,” he explained unnecessarily. Fox knew perfectly well how this all went.

White light images, then UV. Adhesive peels, then chemical swabs. The chances they could pull a usable print off his Fox’s skin were next to nonexistent, but measurements of the bruising and chemical analyses of the residues might prove useful.

What were the chances?

Thorn and Stone took blood sample, saliva samples, sweat swabs, kriffing urine, but they finally let Fox get into a set of clean blacks and his thoroughly decontaminated plate. Thorn stayed behind to keep running analyses while Stone delivered Fox to the medbay along with the first round of test results.

It took very little bullying from Scav to convince Fox to take a real water shower in the medbay’s ‘fresher. Fox felt unclean, in every possible interpretation of the word.

His usual room was ready and waiting for him, thin scratchy sheets turned down like a sad attempt at kriffing five-star penthouse hospitality.

Scav made an appearance right about the same time Fox had started approving the updates to the Guard’s patrol schedules. The medic ran an IV and hung what he swore was just a saline drip above Fox’s cot.

It wasn’t only saline. The sedatives kicked in when Fox was only half-way through his stack of prisoner-transfer requests.

Medics were meddling shabuire. All of them.

“Fox, wake up.”

The voice sounded distant and muffled, like Fox was hearing it through water. He was usually a light sleeper, but the vague, dark dream he was having seemed resistant to letting him go completely.

“Kriff, how much did Scav give him?”

“Enough to keep him under for a full eight hours.”

“So, enough to kill a mid-sized bantha. What can you give him to get him back on his feet?”

That sounded like Thire. Maybe. But Thire didn’t have red-shot, yellow eyes.

“That’s really not a good idea. His bloodwork is still a trash fire.”

“We don’t have a choice, it’s the Jedi calling.”

“Kriff. Right. Hold on.”

Fox drifted, not really awake and not really asleep, something like dread tugging at the edges of his consciousness. Finally something prickled along his senses, tipping the scales towards wakefulness.

The dull, throbbing ache behind his eyes reasserted itself. It was nothing in comparison to before, of course, but deeply unpleasant all the same. The sound he made was half protest, half dire threat.

“Rise and shine,” a familiar voice said, full of easy sarcasm and false cheer. Thire.

“Get karked,” Fox said, but his voice sounded rough and still half-drugged. He cracked his eyes open and glared at Thire.

That earned a brief snort of amusement. “There’s my cheerful commander.”

“I can and will kill you.”

“Hold that thought,” Thire said, craning around to look at something off to Fox’s right. “I need the room.”

Fox turned his head to the side and caught sight of Clave, Scav’s second, backing out of the door and shutting it behind him with an audible click.

It took some doing, but Fox managed to shove himself up into a sitting position without tangling himself in his IV line. “I take it there’s a situation,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

The false front of teasing fell away, leaving Thire’s expression suddenly grim. “The Jedi council has requested your presence in the Chancellor’s office at your earliest convenience.”

‘At your earliest convenience’ was quite the loaded phrase. Fox could only assume that it meant, ‘Drop what you’re working on and go now.’

“Why the Chancellor’s office?” he asked, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. His blacks were still in reasonable shape, folded on the shelf next to his neatly stacked armor, which Thorn had scrubbed down to the molecular level yesterday. Fox could be presentable and on his way in a few minutes, just as soon as the lingering sedatives lost their fight with the new influx of stimulants in his bloodstream.

It was a kriffing wonder of Kaminoan engineering that his liver hadn’t given out months ago.

And Thire still hadn’t answered Fox’s question.

He looked up and found Thire watching him, expression gone impossibly darker. Fox was about to snap at his subordinate commander when Thire finally answered.

“The Chancellor is missing.”

The words sent Fox’s stomach into freefall, but Thire wasn’t done speaking.

“It looks like you might have been the last person who saw him yesterday.”

That didn’t make any sense, unless…

“I didn’t have a meeting with the Chancellor yesterday,” Fox said, voicing the obvious protest even though he already knew what Thire was going to say. He balled his hands into fists on top of his scratchy sheets.

Something in Thire’s eyes looked anguished, but his voice was as even and steely as before when he said, “Yes, you did.”

AN: This is something of a sequel to Clocking Time, not that you need to have read it to understand this one. Just call it the logical next step when you're in the jaws of a rabid plot bunny.

#caveat emptor fanfic #star wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #commander fox #commander thorn #commander thire #commander stone #coruscant guard

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ricebooks · 2 years

Text

(Rottmnt series and movie spoilers! This is speculation regarding when Donnie took a hit during the movie!)

So we see here that Donnie constructs a shield as fast as possible after the Kraang arrives. If we go by the time we as viewers see him construct the shield, he has less than 2 seconds to make it before they are punched:

This next screenshot shows that Kraang Prime breaks it before it's even completed, judging by how there's little difference between the shield before and during the punch:

If a single punch can break Raph's mystic construct, which was both bigger and thicker than Donnie's, we can assume that Donnie's construct, due to lack of time and experience in making them (Raph first made one in s1 ep7 while Donnie made his first in the s2 finale), was significantly weaker. Raph was cradling his arm after he was hit despite being protected by the rest of his ninpo construct and not having his actual body hit. Donnie had no such protection, time, or experience to back him up. They are sent flying ragdoll-style; Donnie has a humorously dead look on his face.

Final screenshot, the latest one I could get before they're punched:

(It looks almost identical to the left one in the previous picture row, I know)

But in that screenshot, we see that the Kraang's fist pretty much came in contact with Donnie's hand, since he was using it to hold the 'construct-bo' steady.

Dear audience, I think Donnie should have gotten a broken hand or arm from that. If not, at *least* some bad internal bleeding. A combination of both, even.

(But I get it, it's a kid show/movie that very unfortunately and infuriatingly got cut short/had time constraints.)

I've seen the fandom agree that Leo got extensive wounds, including broken limbs and varying portryals of shell damage. I think it's reasonable to assume that Donnie got a taste of that as well, only it didn't show right away. Verywellhealth lists tingling in the hands or feet, swelling, shortness of breath, nausea, mental changes (disorientation or confusion), and more as symptoms of internal bleeding. Many of those are things that Donnie could have brushed off due to the urgency of the situation and almost losing multiple members of his family. Many of those are symptoms viewers would not be able to detect either (and again, target audience is kids). That "humorously dead look" mentioned earlier could easily be out of disorientation due to a broken arm/internal bleeding, if not from a concussion due to the reverberating shockwaves.

How is Donnie able to come in clutch?

Adrenaline, stress, anger, and ignoring your injuries, baby!

(With a hint of self-sacrifice and instinctually moving to protect your loved ones, because that is a Hamato family motif.)

And the aftermath is just as angsty as you'd expect: Donnie works himself to the bone to rebuild and protect his family, only to be hindered by an injury to his arm. And he, arguably, would still have it better than his siblings because that's a normal, documented bodily reaction to physical harm. How do you treat the results of mind control and forced body alterations? How do you treat the backlash of opening a hole through time and space? What's an arm injury or two compared to having your entire body pummeled? The Technodrome Takeover isn't helping this poor guy's mind at all.

Would all of this be more reason for his self-esteem and self-worth issues to kick in? I definitely think so.

Final thoughts:

Donnie definitely broke something or got BAD internal bleeding from that move

Can you imagine Leo and Donnie having a moment of quiet horror as they fully realize what happened to each other. That they both took direct hits from the suited Kraang Prime (Raph had his constructs, which is why I discounted him. Donnie's construct didn't hinder the punch at all. Tore through it as though it was a flimsy eggshell.)

Can you imagine the guilt Mikey would have because Donnie took a major hit for him twice and got hurt for it. And then Donnie would still try to take care of them through overworking

Can you imagine Raph regretting not pushing harder on defensive uses of their ninpo. Donnie tends to use it offensively by itself or as an augment to his tech. What if he'd pushed for more defensive training and usage, even if his brothers disliked him for it?

Wow please get physical and mental therapy for everyone

Okay done thanks for reading!

Edit:

This got some traction (thank you!) and I wanted to add something real quick. In a self-reblog and with permission, I added the following in response to these tags:

"@mad-phlegmatic EXACTLY. And Donnie's reflexes are good enough to avoid Hypno's rings in mid-air (s1 ep13) and to allow him to temporarily face off against the Shredder. His subsequent rag-dolling implies a lack of consciousness or awareness!

On Leo: unless I'm mistaken, member 'Nardo of Team Exclusive Nicknames only cries twice in the movie: when Shredder punches Donnie and Mikey, and when he accepts his fate in the prison dimension :)"

With permission, I added the screenshot and subsequent response to the post itself.

Now I'm done (for reals. I think.)—have a nice day!

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt movie spoilers #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt movie #rottmnt donnie #rice babble #yeah i have many thoughts about this alright. loads of thoughts.#so i finally wrote them down. with added visual proof and research haha #did this on mobile. hopefully it works #long post

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arctrooper69 · 1 year

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hiii! i just found your hurt/comfort dialog prompt list you had tagged and i'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff. could you please do prompt 34. "you're covered in blood, need to tell me something?" with wolffe? maybe even a little bit of prompts 20 and 35 from the the hurt/comfort sprinkled in there too? i absolutely adore your work and your such a fantastic writer, i look forward to everytime you post, and you do such a beautiful job on your writing that i can't wait to read this once it is done (if you decided to do it) . feel free to change it how you want, and thank you for taking time out of busy day to read this. love you <333

Hey! I'm so glad you've been enjoying my work! Sorry it took me awhile to get this out to you. I had so many ideas for it but I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Hope you enjoy it! 😁

Prompt# 20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Prompt# 34: "You're covered in blood, need to tell me anything?"

Prompt# 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

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

Love is a Battlefield

The new General doesn't want to ask for help. Commander Wolffe does so anyway.

Warnings: Blood. Angst. Battlefield scenes. Hurt/Comfort.

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

"Okay, today officially sucks." You grumbled under your breath, cursing whatever cosmic Force led you to be in your current state. Groaning you dragged yourself back over the ledge and collapsed in the mud. Everything hurt. Your clothes were stiff with dried and drying blood and at this point, you weren't sure if it belonged to you or to those damn splox who's nest you'd fallen into. Probably both.

Ok, now to find the rest of the company. You were sure that you hadn't strayed too far from the battlefield when you'd been drug off by battle droids and thrown from a cliff in the resulting fight. But hey, at least you took them down with you. You thought, cracking a smile. Master Plo would've been proud. On the other hand, you frowned, you had gotten separated from everyone else - so maybe not so much.

You drew a sharp breath between your teeth. A burning, grating feeling radiated from your side as you stepped over a rock and nearly fell to the ground. You paused for a moment to let your tunneling vision focus again, fighting back the urge to throw up. Maybe some of the blood was actually yours. The trek back to camp was going to take much longer than you expected.

Good. Maybe that would give you time to mull over the conversation you'd had yesterday morning with the commander of you battalion.

You were sure it was the reason that Commander Wolffe was ignoring you earlier today.

***

You'd chosen to continue on with the battalion after Master Plo had received an urgent message from the Council, recalling him from the field. Wolffe disagreed.

"You're injured!" He snapped, more forcefully than intended.

You sighed rolling your eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm fine. You know I've had worse, Commander." It was more than a headache, probably a concussion due to the nausea and dizziness that currently plagued you. But he didn't need to know that.

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"General, I saw that spider droid fling you halfway across the battlefield. Can you at least go to medical to get checked out? I need you-" He froze, then coughed quickly, trying to pass off his slip-up as though he'd been interrupted mid sentence. "We. We need you. Your men need you at your best, general."

He coughed again and quickly left the room, leaving you frozen in place.

***

Did he really say that? You replayed his words in your head over and over again.

"I need you."

You couldn't deny that it had shaken you. You couldn't deny that it had hit you in such a way that made your whole body tingle and flood with warmth. As much as you tried to suppress it and convince yourself it was nothing, you had found yourself staring at the Commander a lot recently. The way he confidently carried himself, the subtle spark in his eye, the way he cared for his men even though he hid it behind that abrasive and sarcastic front - it was all so perfect. So attractive. So him.

No, he couldn't have meant it like that. You were his superior and even more importantly, you were a Jedi. No attachment allowed. He definitely couldn't have meant it like that. It was simply a slip of the tongue. He felt nothing for you and you felt nothing for him. You told yourself that your infatuation wasn't real. Commander Wolffe was a good solider and your fondness for him was simply a professional sense of pride. That's all.

Distant voices interrupted your brooding. Several clone troopers were searching high and low, calling out for someone but you didn't quite catch the name.

"Who are we looking for?" You walked up to the trooper closest to you. His shiny white armor was streaked with mud and ash - one of the new guys. Splash, they'd christened him on account of the puddle of mud he'd landed in immediately after jumping from the gunship into the field. It was hard to believe you'd only been here for three days. It felt like three years.

"We're looking for the General!" He explained hurriedly, hardly giving you a side glance.

Your heart dropped. Surely not Master Plo. Had he not left for Coruscant after all? Your hero and former master had seemed invincible ever since he'd chosen you to be his Padawan.

"General Plo Koon?" You asked hesitantly.

Splashed grunted as he stepped over a log. "No, the other one."

A wave of relief washed over you. You could've laughed out loud if your head wasn't so cloudy. Your side screamed with every step. You took a shallow breath, trying to ground yourself.

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Supplementing with the force wouldnt last long and it was draining, but it was better than the agony you'd been in. You took a deep breath, allowing the pain to become a whisper and looked back up at the clone.

"Well you found her!" You joked.

"What?" He stood up looking confused. Then he looked over at you.

Splash straightened up upon realizing that he had indeed found the General. He was glad he was wearing his bucket because he could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. He scrambled stiffly to attention. "Uhm, sorry Sir. I mean Ma'am. Uh, General." He stuttered, trying to compose himself. You chuckled, wincing as the movement pulled at your wounded side. Splash looked alarmed as if he'd just realized that his General was covered in blood. "Are you injured, Ma'am?"

You grit your teeth to hide the pain. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe it all belongs to the splox that I killed. Fell into a nest of em."

He looked at you, unsure if you were being serious or not, trying to recall if the regulation manuals told him what to do in a situation like this.

"We should probably make our way to medical, all the same." He concluded. "Just to be safe. Get you checked out and all." He offered his arm.

You shook your head. "No that's alright. They're much too busy right now, seeing as the battle has just ended."

"Well I'm sure..."

You put a hand up to stop him. "It's fine, Splash. I can take care of myself. Let's worry about making our way back to camp."

"Of course, General."

***

You made your way back to camp and bid Splash a farewell. Exhausted, you yawned and slowly made your way back to your tent, passing the Commander's tent on your way there.

"General!" Commander Wolffe sprang to his feet the moment he saw you. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

His eyebrows knit tightly together with a frown. If you didn't know better, you almost thought he looked concerned. Worried even. But that would be stupid. You were reading too much into it. He was simply a solider looking out for the welfare of his commanding officer. That's it. Nothing more.

"I'm good!" You grinned, hoping he didn't notice the way your teeth ground against the pain in your head and now your side.

Wolffe's face became unreadable.

"Just good!?" He growled. "General, you are covered in blood. 'Good' does not even begin to cover it. Do you need to tell me something?"

Yes. I think I'm in love with you.

"No not really." You nonchantly shrugged. "It's not mine. Fell into a nest of those giant splox beetles and had to take em out before they ate me. You know how it is."

Wolffe rolled his eyes. He didn't believe you, but what could he do? He wasn't your superior, he couldn't order you to tell him. He made a note to ask Cody and Rex to let him into the clones-with-stubborn-generals club. He could sure use some advice.

"Could you be anymore bull-headed?" he wanted to yell at you as you left the room, interpreting his silence as the end of that conversation.

Wolffe groaned in frustration. Why did he care so much? Why did the thought of you being wounded send waves of terror cascading through his core. You were acting strange, subtly walking as though every step sent agony shooting through your body thinking nobody would notice. He noticed. He wanted to pick you up in his arms and bandage your wounds. He wanted to softly kiss each scar on your skin.

You were a good leader. He understood wanting to be tough, wanting to be strong for the soldiers under your command. If he was honest with himself, he did the same.

You trudged wearily back to your tent, ignoring the pain that was slowly returning to full force with a vengeance as though it was angry at being willed into submission.

You made it a point to avoid medical. The dwindling amount of medical supplies worried you. It was only a matter of time before they would run out if they weren't sent relief. The chief medical officer had drastically downplayed the dire straits the company was in when you asked him. You'd seen the inventory. It was scarce. It wouldn't be right, going to medical right now. Not when you could most likely patch yourself up with the small medkit by your bunk. The clones made up the backbone of the GAR, it was only right that they take priority over you.

***

It was a miracle of the Force that you hadn't passed out by the time you reached the tent. Biting your lip to keep you from making too much noise, you peeled off your shirt to assess the damage, grabbing a towel from the shelf.

You bit back a pained moan and your vision swam as you gripped the edge of your cot to steady yourself. A large gash curled around the side of your chest from the bottom of your breast to your hip. The torn skin bled heavily, quickly turning the towel a crimson red.

This was...not good.

The com chirped, making you jump. You felt dazed and exhausted. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before answering the com. Sergeant Sinker's brisk voice echoed from the device.

"General, the clankers are moving in from the North. They've engaged the front and the 501st is calling for aid. What are your orders?"

Your men needed you. Who were you to ignore them? What kind of leader would you be if you sent them off while you stayed behind. "A good leader leads by example" Master Plo always said. You were tired of the animalistic way the clones were treated - as if they were only droids or worse. You would be there for your men, fighting right up front beside them. Right beside Commander Wolffe.

You lit up the com. "Proceed with the request, Sergeant. I'll be there shortly."

You looked at the medkit. Well, so much for that. You quickly taped up the wound and slapped some bacta treated gauze on it. Then you quickly changed your clothes, willing yourself to ignore the nauseating pain. You steadied yourself with a hand on the wall before wiping the cold sweat from your clammy skin. You tried to breathe, once more closing your eyes in meditation once again squashing down the pain. The show must go on. The General must lead her men into battle.

***

General Skywalker was right to call for aid. The Separatist forces were throwing everything they had at you. You jumped over the guns of a tank, slicing through the controls to disable it. Droid after droid came at you from all sides and you cut them down. If only the Commander could see you now in all your glory.

An explosion knocked you off your feet, wrenching you from your stupor. Pain surged through your body as you pushed yourself to your feet. The continuous onslaught of enemy forces wasn't so fun now. You began to realize just how tired you were. Trying to catch your breath felt as futile as swimming in honey. Your mind felt sluggish and your arms felt like lead. A B2 took aim and fired. You saw him fire and raised your saber to block but it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blast hit your shoulder. Kriff. You hit the ground hard, letting the awful, searing pain wash over you. You wanted to close your eyes. You wished you could just rest. Just for a moment.

Your eyes flew back open. No. The men need you. Get up. Shakily you forced yourself to your knees and onto your feet. One more time. You knew this was abusing the force but it was for an honorable reason. Right?

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. Pain is temporary. Accept it simply as a signal sent by the body. Accept the pain. Respect it. Don't fight it. Ask your body to begin to heal.

You let out a feral scream, pouring every last ounce of energy and willpower into your prayers, knocking back an entire wave of droids. And then you felt nothing.

***

My head. The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the skull splitting headache that you could almost feel radiating down your entire body. It felt as though someone was spearing red hot needles through your eyeballs, twisting them through the many sections of your brain. The pain made you nauseous.

An agonized wheeze drifted from your lips as you tried to raise your hands to cup your face. When did my arms get so heavy? Pain shot through your side and shoulder as you tried to move. Panic gripped you when you couldn't.

"Ah kriff," a gruff voice cursed. "Hey! General. General, it's okay. Calm down. You're safe." You'd know that voice anywhere - it was the only clear thing that cut through the haze of pain. Commander Wolffe.

He barked a command at someone and after a few minutes the pain had loosened it's claws. It wasn't much but it was better than before.

"What do you need, General? Are you still in pain?"

"Lights," you managed to groan. Even that took too much energy and you desperately hoped that you wouldn't be sick in front of the Commander.

Wolffe immediately jumped from his chair, quickly shutting off the lights. That helped some, but not much. It still felt like your head was being lobotomized by a pickaxe. Your side and shoulder felt like they'd been broken off and trampled by a bantha. A bantha that was on fire maybe.

"You are so kriffing stubborn, you know that!?" Wolffe growled. Seeing you wince, he lowered his volume but continued with the hard and bitter tone.

"How long did you think you could hide that!? Hmm?" He motioned to your side.

"You almost died yesterday." He said, softening his voice ever so slightly.

Wolffe looked tired. His eyes were sunken and even his cybernetic one had a dark shadow beneath it. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered since the battle. His grey armor was still scuffed up with dirt and grime. A small bacta patch adorned his right eyebrow.

You looked away, shame burning at the corners your eyes, adding to the overwhelming pressure in your head. You failed him and now he hated you. You turned your head away from him wincing at the pain but you couldn't bear to have him see the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"Look at me." A command. He didn't have the authority to give you a command, but you felt compelled to comply all the same. Hastily wiping your eyes in a futile attempt at seeming alright, you turned towards him. Your breath caught as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it from your face.

"Stop kriffing pretending that you're okay." Still a command, but this one felt softer. His voice still held the rough, bitter edge that defined him so well but as you met his eyes, they held an uncertain gaze of vulnerability.

"Your men need you alive. They care about you, General." He paused, pacing back and forth in the dark room. He came to a stand still by the foot of your bed, refusing to meet your gaze, as though he had something he wanted to say. Finally he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Oh kriff it." He snapped. "I care about you, damnit!" He shook his head and began to pace again, the anger returning to his visage.

"General Plo said you could've died." He spat. "He said that you had spread yourself so thin, used up so much energy that you could've killed yourself. Do you..." He cut himself off and took another breath, clenching his fists tightly. "Do you know what that would've done to this company. Do you know what that would've done to me!?"

There was fire in his eyes when he looked back up at you. "It would've killed me too."

You lay there in your bed staring at him - shocked at this outburst. What was he saying? That he cared for you? That he loved you? That he thought about you as much as you thought about him?

"I.." you began softly.

"No. I'm not done."

You shut your mouth.

"General, when you came back to camp covered in blood, I had to restrain myself from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to medical myself. I knew something was wrong but I trusted that you knew what you were doing. It was the same when I saw you collapse yesterday. It took everything in me not to race to your side."

He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and angry with you. "I should be holding the line with my men, not babysitting my General!"

You stared blankly ahead, letting his anger wash over you. So that's how he saw you. That solves one problem, you tried to convince yourself. It was good that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. That made it easier to cleanse yourself of any feeling of attachment. But then why didn't hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a part of your soul had been sawed away? Wasn't letting go of your emotions supposed to bring you peace? This crushing weight of disappointment and heartbreak was anything but peace.

The room was quiet save for the beeps and whirs of the medical equipment around you. The silence felt deafening. Then finally Wolffe let out a sigh.

"I'm....sorry..." The words dragged themselves reluctantly from his mouth.

You didn't respond.

The bed buckled slightly as Wolffe sat down on the edge. He tentatively rested a hand gently on your back, expecting you to recoil or stiffen under his touch. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you leaned into his touch instead.

He sighed, rolling his neck. "Look," he began awkwardly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing so I'm just going to be honest with you. I..." He stopped. You turned your face towards his. He took a breathe, not daring to make eye contact. "I think I'm in love with you. Kriff. No, I know I'm in love with you."

You gasped, the dam broke and tears began to stream down your face.

Wolffe jumped up, startled and clearly embarrassed. "I...I mean... I... I didn't mean..." The normally confident Commander stumbled over his words in a shameful horror.

"No," you sobbed. You felt so relieved. Everything felt right again. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked down at you, eybrows knitted upwards in confusion. "Then why..." He motioned to your tearful face.

"Because I love you too and I was afraid that you hated me. I was afraid that everyone would see me as a terrible General. And also my everything hurts and..." you sobbed, "...and I love you so much."

Wolffe looked down at you with amusement and a strange softness took hold of his features - a foreign look for his usually serious demeanor.

"You look nice when you smile," you whispered with a small grin. "But you can go back to frowning if that's more comfortable for you."

Wolffe rolled his eyes as he settled down in a chair beside your bed. "You should get some sleep, General." Back to his serious old self again but he kept that twinkle in his eye. Only for you. he thought.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

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

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yesimwriting · 1 year

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Final Girl - Part 9

Final girl Masterlist (all parts in order and extra fics, updated parts 1 - 9)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: Nightmares aren’t that bad when you’re sleeping over at Stu’s house. Too bad no amount of late night movie watching and hot chocolate can cure a bad case of being on Gale Weathers’s radar.

----

The light glints off the knife’s edge so sharply the entire thing warps. The blade looks longer, then smaller, then larger. It changes with each movement of the person holding so much it’s fascinating, almost like a cartoon.

For a second it feels like it’s just that. Like I’m watching Scooby Doo or Nancy Drew or some other kids’ mystery show. Then the knife comes down.

I scream, snapping into the moment as I start running. Everything’s hazy, I can barely register how unfamiliar this place is. Branches are tugging on what I’m wearing, scratching at my face, but I can’t feel them. All I feel is the blood rushing in my ears.

Something cold and sharp digs into my shoulders. I’m thrashing, but it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. My attacker forces me to turn. It’s him--the too familiar white mask, the permanent scream.

He lifts his knife and forces it down. My eyes shut as the blade meets my chest. The pain is a barely there flicker. It’s being drowned out by a tingling sensation that’s taking over my entire body. The feeling disconnects me from it all until my vision fades to black.

Reality returns quickly. My body is laying on something soft, my face pressed into something cushioned.

“No, don’t--” The words come out so tight I almost don’t recognize the voice. Billy.

My head snaps up. The dimly lit space looks like it should be Stu’s living room but something about it feels off. Like everything’s been flipped or something. I don’t see Billy until my mind reconnects the dots and refocuses.

He’s standing with his hands held out cautiously. His back is to me but I can feel his tension. Swallowing back my panic, I force myself to look in the same direction as Billy. That damn mask. Ghostface.

“Billy...” It’s a shaky whisper and I don’t know what I expect from it.

The helplessness washes through me. My eyes drop down, but that makes everything worse.

There’s a thick puddle staining the hardwood floors reflecting the low light of the room. It leads to a pale arm that leads to a shoulder that leads to what--oh. The realization that the mess of glistening red used to be a chest sends a sharp wave of nausea through me.

My gaze shifts up, catching eyes that should be familiar but are too hollow, too blank as they stare up at nothing. Stu.

I scream, my entire body shaking with the urge to get closer like that’d mean something. There’s another sound, some kind of grunt or cry--I don’t--I don’t know--and then Billy falls. First to his knees before slumping over. He lands on his side...next to Stu.

The killer looks up at me with a tilt of their head, they walk over my friends, but they don’t--they--

----

When the darkness of the room washes over me, I’m already sitting up. Not real. Not real. Not real. The tightness in my chest doesn’t go away and a type of sickness that hurts stays in my upper stomach.

I can hear myself panting, but I don’t feel the relief of air entering my lungs. My hand stretches over tangled sheets, a part of me trying to stabilize myself. Maybe that will make the nausea go aw--no.

I’m on my feet in a second, crossing the room to get to the door. Autopilot leads me to the bathroom. Wait--this isn’t my house--I fell asleep at Stu’s. They were both here--so where are they now?

My nausea spikes. I gag, moving instinctually onto my knees.

“Hey.” The voice feels far, I can’t grasp onto it. “Hey,” a warm touch on my back as my hair is pulled back. “You’re okay, angel.”

Oh. I try to breathe through my disorientation as I turn my head. “Stu?”

The amount of nerves in my voice must throw him off but I can’t make out too much of his expression in the dark. Just as the thought settles, the light flickers on and my eyes are squinting to adjust.

Stu moves to stand and keeps a hand on my arm to encourage me to do the same. I’m so stiff and the world is so hazy I don’t think, just follow. The same thing happens as Stu sort of extends me so that I’m in front of the sink.

Another arm is in front of me, holding a tiny cup between two fingers. The liquid is a sharp green. I take the cup before I really know what I’m doing. It smells like the heavy kind of mint that belongs in a dentist’s office.

I bring it to my lips and swish the mouthwash around for longer than I normally would before turning on the sink and rinsing. Such a small thing shouldn’t make that much of a difference but getting rid of the taste of acidic bile in my mouth clears my head enough to let me think.

My head turns in the direction of the arm. “Billy.”

Something clues him into my confusion. It could be the way I said his name or the way I’m just staring like he’s some sort of ghost. He’s trying to figure it out, or maybe he’s trying to piece together a reaction that’s appropriate when someone’s staring this much.

“Hey,” it’s said a little unsurely, “You’re okay. You’re--” His hand finds its way onto my upper back, moving in that circular motion that’s become familiar. It’s enough to let me feel okay about looking towards Stu again.

“You guys are--” I can’t get the words out, can’t figure out how to explain it. “You’re--you’re okay.” I can feel the shakiness in my voice but I can’t bring myself to fix it.

Again, instinct takes over and I pull Stu into a hug. He has to be surprised but he doesn’t hesitate to squeeze me back just as tightly. Billy stays close, his hand still on my back.

They’re both here, still warm and breathing and here. The relief is too much and it joins a flurry of other feelings.

I pull my head off of Stu, “Where were you guys?” I know that anger’s irrational, there are hundreds of reasons they could have both been up, especially since we didn’t fall asleep too late, but I can’t help the panic hiding as aggression in my tone. I try to pull further away, but Stu doesn’t let me. “I woke up and you guys weren’t there and I thought--” I’m not even sure if what I’m saying makes sense, but it’s coming up the same way the bile did, “You can’t do that--you--you left. You can’t just leave.”

“No one’s leaving.” Billy’s voice lacks the defensiveness I expect. “We were just downstairs. I couldn’t sleep so I went to get some water and Stu woke up, and you know how that is.” The attempt at a joke is appreciated, but I can’t bring myself to show it.

Normally, Stu not letting go when I try to push him off bothers me, but now I’m kind of glad he didn’t let me get too far. Something about having them this close is grounding. They’re okay.

“Yeah,” Stu hums, “Who’d leave you?” He says it so casually, so assured, like the thought of going somewhere would have never crossed his mind if I hadn’t said that.

It’s assuring in a different way, not quite getting at all of my panic. “I had a dream that--” The longer I’m awake, the more aware I am of how unnormal I’m being. That doesn’t mean I can stop it. “It was--it was so real, and then I woke up and you--”

They’re being quiet. I know that I’m being a lot and they’re probably still trying to figure out how to react to my panic, but it’s making me antsy. If they’d joke or tease me about this, I’d be able to convince myself that I haven’t fully lost it.

Billy smooths my hair back carefully. “We’re okay,” his voice is low, a little tight. “Everyone’s okay.”

I nod once, trying to convince myself that his certainty is my own. “In my dream--you guys ended up like--” It’s hard enough to mention her when I’m well rested and feeling together. “Like Casey.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Stu’s hold on me goes from fully relaxed to a little firmer.

Argument and doubt immediately bubble up. No one counts on dying. Casey was in her house. I got a call from the killer while home and they knew that Billy was locked out. The cops are still so lost Dewey wants to meet with me again to go over some details. There’s no reason for the killer to just go away...and from what they said the last time we talked, they’re not planning on it.

Stu places a hand on the side of my head, angling me closer with no warning. He places a quick kiss against my temple. I nearly jump before realizing what just happened. That was such a Stu reaction I can’t help but smile a little, even though I shouldn’t encourage him. “You’re cute when you’re worried about us.”

At least that’s the return of something normal. “You say that about everything.”

He breezes past my attempt at harshness, “Not everything.”

“You said it when you noticed that my history folder and notebook match.”

The corner of Stu’s mouth turns upwards, “Ah. The matching notebook-folders.”

I roll my eyes, regretting bringing that up again. He had asked about the matching thing so much I felt like he had to have been making fun of me. “I’m not doing this again, a lot of people color match their stuff.”

“And their sticky notes,” Billy mumbles. I turn my head enough to glare at him. He found me sorting my sticky notes by subject early into our friendship and so far it’s kind of been our secret. Not because it’s a bad thing, just a little type-A and make-fun-able. “Kidding.” Maybe I’d find him funny if I was better rested. He stares at my blank expression for a second, “Are you going back to bed?”

There’s a small chance I’ll never sleep again. I don’t get a chance to answer. Billy steps back, pulling me forward a little. We all walk out of the bathroom and down the hall. Before I can say that I really don’t feel like sleeping right now, Billy walks past the door to Stu’s room.

----

Stu pushes the mug so that it slides against the granite countertop. One of my hands wraps around the handle and the other presses against the ceramic’s side. The warmth soothes me as it leaches into my fingers.

“Thanks.”

He smiles a little, tapping his fingers against the kitchen island, “It’s the least I could do since you’re worried sick over us.”

Billy looks over at us, mumbling some response I barely register, “The least you could do?”

“Whatever, man, you kn--”

The block of knives is only a few feet away. I can only see the handles, the blades are hidden in the wood, but that doesn’t make it any less distracting.

Trying to force myself to stay in the moment, I stare at my mug, studying the giant, cursive London and cartoonish city line that wrap around the ceramic’s side. Big Ben is at the center, almost piercing the lettering. I almost ask about England, but decide not to risk it. Stu’s parents are always traveling. There’s a good chance he wasn’t on this trip. For all I know, the mug was what they brought back for him.

I lift the glass to my lips, taking a few sips. The hot chocolate is almost shockingly good. Perfectly balanced between sweet and cocoa-y. Even the whipped cream and marshmallows are paired so well it feels scientific.

“Y/n?”

I set the mug on the counter, eyes studying the deflating marshmallow lump. “Yeah?” Tearing my eyes away from the marshmallow mutant, I force myself to look up. Billy and Stu share a look. It’s brief, but it feels heavy. Like one of those moments where they slip away into their own world. Normally, when they do that, it’s more like being left out of a joke. This time it might as well as be a psychological assessment. Be more normal. "I’ve never had hot chocolate after 2 AM before.” I take another sip, “It’s nice.”

My recovery feels smooth, so I let myself look up again. Stu’s already staring at me. It’s the kind of focus that wouldn’t be suspicious from him if he’d make some kind of joke about it. Any kind of flirty comment would make it okay and cancel out the seriousness behind his eyes. “You’re feeling better, right?”

The worry is there, but pushed forward with such Stu-like energy that it almost feels more like a statement or request than a question. “A little.” I don’t know how true it is, but it’s easier to say that than admit how unsure I am. And maybe I’ll speak feeling better into existence. “Seeing you guys...knowing you’re okay helps.”

Ah. Sleep depravation is no joke because that’s something I’m definitely going to regret. It’s way too vulnerable and easy to make fun of. I stare at my mug until the quiet’s too much and I have to face what I’ve done. Stu’s not holding in a laugh or radiating a smugness that he’s given into over less. He’s still watching me, but it’s different, softer and more open. I set my mug down before looking over at Billy. His eyes dart down to the sink almost immediately.

My attention snaps back to Stu as he moves forward to place his hand on mine. “Look who loves us.”

I glare halfheartedly as Stu gently bends and squeezes my fingers. “Duh.” Like these two weirdos don’t already know. “I know it was cheesy, but given the circumstances, can you guys please not.”

“That wasn’t cheesy.” Billy’s voice is low, a little rough. “But the nightmare over u--”

“Shut up.” He’s smiling, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Sorry that I’d probably lose it if anything happened to either of you.”

Billy rests his weight on his forearms, leaning forward. The front strands of his hair fall forward as he angles his head towards me. It’d be so easy to extend an arm and push his hair back into place. “Probably?”

I use the hand Stu isn’t still holding onto to grab my mug. “You were mean about it. That got you guys downgraded.”

Stu tugs on my hand with just enough pressure to get my attention. “Hey, leave me out of whatever he says.” I roll my eyes as I take a sip of hot chocolate. “I’m a total sweetheart compared to grumpy over there.”

A burst of laughter tries to claw its way up my throat as I’m swallowing. I know what Stu said wasn’t that unbelievably funny, but something about oversimplifying Billy like that gets to me. “He isn’t grumpy.” I set my mug down. “He’s multifaceted.”

“Multifaceted?” Billy repeats, tone trying too hard to be more wary than amused for it to work. The failure makes me fight down a grin. I like the slips from his usual demeanor, not that Billy’s rough around the edges exterior is something I’d change, it’s just nice to see him relaxed from time to time. It’s also probably good for him.

I nod, committing to whatever bit I’ve accidentally started. “Like a house cat.”

Billy’s eyes stay focused on me, the corner of his mouth hinting at what’s close enough to a smile for me to count it as a win. He looks like he might say something, but then Stu snorts. Laughs in a way that has him pulling on my hand again. “You nailed it, angel.”

Billy tilts his head stiffly, still managing to glare at Stu. It’s still part of the joke, for now, and I need to make sure it stays that way. “So we agree, not grumpy.”

“Hm...” Stu pauses, scrunching up his face as if I’ve just asked him an incredibly deep question that warrants this much reflection. “He’s not grumpy to you because you’re pretty.”

Warmth rushes to my face and I don’t get why. Stu’s definitely said similar and much more intense things before. This comment shouldn’t be different, but he breezed out that last part so casually...like it was factual. “Shut up.”

Stu turns my fingers. “And you have this kicked puppy thing you do with your eyes that makes it not worth it.”

That snaps me out of any embarrassment. I try pulling my hand away, but Stu doesn’t let me get too far. “I do not.”

Stu squeezes my hand between both of his. “Yeah, you do, babe.”

I glare at him and Stu has the audacity to grin. The brief flash of teeth is a little too confident for my taste. He needs to be humbled. I turn my head enough to look at Billy. “He’s exaggerating, right?”

Billy’s expression is hard to read. “It’s just...your eyes.” No. They’re teaming up and turning on me. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Yeah, just what I need, another reason to seem like a cute little, doe eyed victim. It gets under my skin even though I know they didn’t mean it like that.

“Hey,” Billy’s voice is low as he leans a little closer, “We’re just kidding.”

I know that, which only adds to my irritation, because why can’t I just be normal?

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Stu tries, “You’re all big, bad, and scary.”

Stu drops his voice dramatically, and despite myself, I smile. It’s awful how funny I actually find some of the things he does. Sometimes I feel like I have the sense of humor of a middle school boy. Billy raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that screams we really choose to deal with this, huh? He picks a mini marshmallow out of the bag before I can fully react and tosses it at Stu.

The marshmallow bounces off of Stu’s forehead and lands on the counter. I laugh a little more than I should. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot.”

Stu scoffs, picking another marshmallow. He throws it at Billy. The marshmallow bounces off of Billy’s chest and falls in front of me anti-climatically. “Fuck you.”

His reaction is half joking and half not, like a majority of his more aggressive comebacks. It’s always just Stu going along with it until he’s not anymore. Maybe I should try to say something calming or distracting, just to assure the preservation of the easy mood. But I can’t think of anything, so I just pinch the marshmallow that fell in front of me between two fingers and toss it in Stu’s direction. It hits his arm and falls onto the counter.

They both turn to look at me. The weight of their full attention takes me a little by surprise because I have no good justification for that. “What?” I shrug a little, “Everyone else threw one and I felt left out.”

Stu lets go of my hand, which is a little concerning. He leans back, leg moving forward to push against my seat. The barstool is the kind that swivels so he succeeds in turning me. “You’re lucky you’re cute or people would talk about how weird you are more.”

I push the front of my leg against his in an attempt to get my seat back into place. He doesn’t budge. “Right. I’m the cute, weird one.”

His lips part slightly and his grin feels a little surprised. That can’t be a good thing. “You think I’m cute?”

Oh my god. What have I done? “Hm. I don’t think that’s what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.” His leg shifts, moving so that he’s touching closer to my knee than before.

There’s a chance that I could turn away or push him off, but that feels like letting him win, so I ignore the warmth rushing to my faced. “That’s what you always hear.”

“I heard it, too.”

My head snaps in Billy’s direction. “Don’t encourage him.”

“If Stu had made it up, it would have been dirtier.”

They don’t need any motivation to make these kinds of jokes. I know that I should be smarter about this, commit to my annoyance, but I can’t stop the laugh that slips out. “You guys are the worst.”

Billy moves so that he’s leaning even closer. So close I can make out his individual lashes. “Really looks like you feel that way.”

His voice comes out low, a hint of rasp finding its way into his voice. The words are casual, a return of a joke. Nothing in them can justify the weird rush of heat to my face.

“Yeah, well,” this has to be a sign of sleep depravation, “Looks can be deceiving.”

He adjusts the weight resting on his forearms, “I believe you.”

The reply is a little flat, hard to get, but the underlying amusement is clear. Like there’s some joke I’m missing. “Shut up.” I push myself further back into my seat.

“I didn’t say anything.”

I pick up my mug. “You had a...vibe.” BIlly’s eyebrows draw together. “A making fun of me vibe.”

The corner of his mouth pulls upwards. “A making fun of you vibe?”

“You know what I mean,” I mumble, taking a sip of my hot chocolate.

He tilts his head, as if seriously thinking through what I said. “You sound like you’re tired.”

I knew we’d circle back to this eventually. There’s a good chance they’re tired. When they woke up in the middle of the night, they probably expected to go back to bed soon enough. “If you guys are tired, you can go to bed.”

“We sleep when you sleep.” Stu turns my chair so that I’m facing him a little more again. Great, add their sleep schedules to the list of casualties my new weirdness is responsible for. “Don’t worry, babe, I can go all night.”

Stu looks so pleased with the stupid joke that I give in and crack a smile. “You shouldn’t have to, though.”

His eyes lose some of their humor, softening in a way I don’t quite get. “I’ve stayed up for less important things.”

“He’s tried,” Billy mumbles dryly, looking over at me, “I’ll actually stay up with you.”

I grin, “Wanna draw on his face when he falls asleep?”

Stu lets out an offended scoff from the back of his throat, Billy ignores him, returning my smile. “Permanent marker.”

“Hey,” Stu pouts, “Don’t be mean, or I won’t tell you about my surprise.”

Hm...with Stu, there’s an 50/50 chance that whatever he’s referencing is weird. “Ominous.” His smugness does make me curious. “Okay--tell me.” Stu’s quiet for a second, a hint of smugness in the tilt of his head. I move my arm forward, softly shoving his arm. “Please?”

At that, he cracks, his hand turning over in order to grab mine. Stu places a kiss to the back of my palm. “Only for you, angel.” He then lets me go and stands. Whatever the surprise is, Stu apparently has to leave the room for it.

I blink, turning my attention to Billy, who halfheartedly shrugs. “There’s no telling with him.”

Definitely an exaggeration on Billy’s part, considering the way the two just get each other. It’s a bond anyone could pick up on. “As long as he comes back fully dressed.”

Billy faintly smiles. “Probably a 50/50 chance.”

Tapping my fingers against the counter, I turn my attention back to my mug. “I don’t know, he seemed a little excited.”

Stu comes back before anything else can be said. He’s holding out a VHS tape. Even though he’s still at the edge of the kitchen, I can make out a familiar red on the cover. No way. “You--”

He keeps an arm extended in front of me until the tape’s in reach. I take it and he sits down with a triumphant grin. “I know my girl.”

After I forced him to watch Clueless, I didn’t think I’d ever get him to do anything like that again. And now he just has it here, lying around on a night he didn’t even expect me to come over. He also didn’t pull it out for points earlier. If I hadn’t woken up, he might not have even mentioned it this visit.

It’s sweet and oddly thoughtful, especially coming from Stu. That fits him, though. When I least expect it, he’ll hit me with something like this. I grin, “Someone’s getting soft.”

“I can take it back.”

Gently tapping the tape against his arm, I look up at him. “Don’t you dare.”

The tape is pulled out of my hands. I turn my head in time to see Billy fully steal my weapon from me. “Before you kill someone.”

He’s joking, but the thought of their death is still fresh. My mind isn’t given a chance to latch onto the thought, because Stu leans forward and steals the tape back. “I’ll go set it up.”

Stu stands up again, walking towards his living room. I slide off the stool, ready to follow him. I only make it a few steps before feeling a touch on my shoulder. It takes me a second to think to turn. Billy’s standing closer than I thought he’d be. On anyone else, that natural tendency to move so quietly would weird me out at least a little. But on Billy, it’s just another thing to add to the list of cat qualities I’ll definitely have to mention later.

Or now, considering the way he’s just staring, hand still on my shoulder. “Hi?”

His thumb runs past the loose collar of the oversized shirt I’m wearing and over the base of my neck. “Hi.” Billy presses his lips together briefly, “You’re--” He stops himself, eyes flitting away from my face. “You’re okay, right?”

From him, the question isn’t so much an assumption as it is an almost nervous check in. Billy’s stiff, like he’s bracing himself for hurt. Whether that’s stemming from forcing the question out or concern over my answer or something else all together, I don’t know.

His eyes are focused on something just past me. Billy’s so tense I can feel it in his hold. He’s not squeezing me, but there’s some rigid quality to the contact that wasn’t there before. Whatever he’s thinking of must be heavier than what I’ve been feeling. I don’t know why, but I shift closer and pull him into a hug.

He lets me, eventually moving to place his free hand on my back. “I’m okay.” Billy’s surprisingly warm. “You and Stu just need to really try not to get murdered.”

I feel his exhaled almost laugh more than I hear it. “We’ll try.”

“Good.” The word comes out blunt and hard. I feel the tightness of it in my chest, aggravating the panic that took over earlier. Helpless and grieving and guilty. “Cause I’d--I’d lose my shit if--”

My hold on him tightens. I’m squeezing him so much it has to be uncomfortable and my face is pressed into his shirt even though I can feel tears welling in my eyes.

He runs his hand up and down my back firmly, assuringly. “Nothing’s going to happen.” There’s no way of knowing that. My silence must get to him, because Billy moves his other hand near the nape of my neck, slowly forcing me to move my head away from his shirt. “Look at me.” It takes me a second, but I eventually find it in me to meet his eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’re going to be okay.” I sniffle once before nodding. “All of us, because you’re not the only one that could lose their shit.”

His tone comes out so hard it radiates an aggression that should make me feel worse. It doesn’t, the anger doesn’t make my throat feel tight like it normally would because it’s not directed at me. He’s watching me intently, hand shifting onto my collarbone as if he’s starting to regret what he said.

I nod again, a little more convinced because it’s hard to challenge Billy’s intensity. Almost impossible to not believe him, no matter how little control he actually has over the situation.

“Y-yeah.” My voice feels too small, too childish, like most of my actions tonight. His hand moves forward enough to get his thumb to brush against the pulse point of my neck. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you two graduate.”

I’m joking. Mostly. Billy lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “We’ll be around, so much you’ll be sick of us.” Again, another thing I want to believe just because Billy’s the one saying it. “If anything, you’re the one that’s going to break us up.” My eyebrows draw together as his thumb presses down a little harder.“Princeton, taking over the world...”

“You’re exaggerating a little.” All of that’s still a world away, and there’s always a chance--knock on wood--that I won’t get in. But the shift in his mood tells me that those maybes don’t matter right now. “You guys could come with, there’s a lot of stuff in New Jersey.” Ah--that was kind of a weird thing to say. I can’t just pack them up and take them with me. That’s not how the world works. “Or--y’know--you guys could just visit and I--visit--I can visit you guys, too.”

Smooth. Billy’s thumb drags down again, the touch regaining its comforting feel as he presses his lips together to fight down a smile. “Come with you?”

“Not like--” I have no one to blame but myself. “I mean--yeah, it’d be cool, and New Jersey’s probably a good place to figure things out...” He’s just letting me ramble, which has to be intentional because he knows how I am. Honestly, it’s a little rude that he’s forcing me to elaborate with so little sleep in my system. “Plus your super awesome best friend would be there.”

His smile eases a little more, “Super awesome best friend?”

“It sounds like something you’d say about me.”

He lets out a breath that’s definitely more amused than he wants it to be. There’s something about getting an extra smile or clearly suppressed laugh from Billy. It’s fun, like a game I’m forcing him into.

“That is how I talk.” His lethal levels of sarcasm take nothing away from my victory.

Billy steps forward. Instead of letting go, he moves his arm so that it’s around my shoulders. I’m kind of glad that he’s staying close. We walk to the living room together.

Stu’s head snaps up from the VCR. “Took you two long enough.” He tilts his head back even further before raising his eyebrows dramatically. “Leave me out of something fun?”

I roll my eyes, slipping out of Billy’s grasp and moving to sit on the couch. “Yeah, actually.” I relax into my seat. “We just hooked up in the kitchen.”

Stu jumps to his feet as I struggle to commit to the bit and not laugh. “Careful, angel.” He sits down next to me, so close our knees are touching as he moves his arm to get me even closer. “I might get jealous.”

It’s not really a threat when he goes there often. Sometimes joking, like he is now and sometimes actually annoyed, like the time I couldn’t go to the movies with him because I had already agreed to hang out with Sidney for the third time that week. But now’s not the time for that, so I play along, “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The other side of the couch dips, Billy’s arm moving to rest on the back of the couch. “Ouch.”

There’s little harder than trying to keep them both equally happy. “Relax.” I relax further into the couch. “You know you’re both my favorites.”

“But if you had to pick a number one...”

I lift my hand, lazily swatting at Stu’s arm. The back of my hand barely brushes against his forearm. Stu moves quickly, grabbing my wrist before I can retreat. He pulls my arm towards him, slipping his fingers between mine. “Instead of starting problems, you should start the movie.”

“Bossy.” He lets out a quick tsk, reaching over for something on the end table next to him. The crinkling sound of a wrapper has my eyes following his movements. He holds the packet in front of him triumphantly. “Now I don’t think I should give you these.”

My sour gummies! “You actually have--” I reach forward with my free hand, but Stu pulls them back. “C’mon, you don’t even like them.”

“You were mean.”

He’s basically pouting, especially since I didn’t really do anything. But pointing that out won’t get me my gummies. “Fine. I’m sorry and you’re a treasure that I don’t appreciate enough.”

Stu grins, angling his head towards me. “That’s more like it.” He shifts his arm, pulling the packet open before handing it to me. I grin, happily taking the pack and popping a gummy into my mouth. Stu wrinkles his nose. “How do you eat those?”

I pick another gummy from the pack. He has to be exaggerating how much he dislikes them if they’re at his house. “If you hate them, why do you always have them?”

Stu shrugs, a movement I can feel against my arm. “They’re on the list, the house shopper gets them.”

I almost snort, nearly choking on the gummy that’s in my mouth. “I should make a list of all the rich people things you say.”

“Ask him the difference between a house keeper and a house manager.” That only makes me laugh more.

Stu glares past my head and at Billy. “Ask Billy about his family’s vacation cabin.”

This conversation belongs to a different tax bracket. “If either of you bring up skiing I’m leaving.”

Billy angles himself towards me in order to grab a gummy out of the pack. He squishes it between his thumb and pointer finger, exaggerating his skepticism. “That’s where you draw the line?”

I let myself sink further into the couch, “I’m being generous.”

“Mhm.” Billy shifts, moving his shoulder away from mine. I’m about to dismiss it as him being in a personal space mood when he rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against the collar of my shirt. “I believe you.”

The response is brushed over, but there’s a pinch of smugness there that would be easy to dig at. I’m pretty sure that if I were to lift my head, I’d see evidence of it. A sarcastic smile he can’t explain away or a hint of too much humor behind his eyes. But I’m too comfortable to go after it

With no warning, the other side of the couch dips with no warning. My eyes snap towards Stu. I frown. “Stu?”

“Just starting the movie.” His back is to me, but the grin in his voice is is audible. “Try not to miss me too much, sweetheart.”

My nose wrinkles, face briefly pressing into Billy’s side as I cringe. “I think I’ll live.”

The upbeat music of Clueless’s opening starts playing. After a second, the couch shifts again. Stu pulls the now empty gummy packet out of my hand and place sit on the coffee table. He then sits down, closer than before, our legs touching. After my dream, I can’t bring myself to scold him. They’re both here, completely okay. I don’t even say anything when Stu pulls my arm towards him.

Billy lets out a breath that I feel more than hear. “Don’t fall asleep,” he whispers, “You’ll hurt your neck.”

I roll my eyes. Sleep isn’t going to come back to me. It might not for a really long time, and there’s no way it’ll happen during Clueless. And sometimes Billy can be such a mom about things. It’d be more annoying if it wasn’t kind of...endearing to think of Billy as being a little bit of a secret softie. He likes to seem detached, but it’s all surface level.

“Fall asleep during Clueless?” I tilt my head up enough to look up at him. “Do you even know me?”

----

Narrator’s Perspective

Stu’s eyes move away from the screen and towards your face again. It’s been less than 10 minutes, so checking on you is a little pointless, but Stu can’t help it. Sure, you must be tired, but there’s no way--oh. Your eyes are shut and you’re completely still, temple resting against Billy’s side.

“She’s asleep,” Billy summarizes, not looking away from the screen.

Nodding absentmindedly, Stu keeps his attention trained on you. There’s a softening of your features that always comes when you’re asleep. He can make out enough of that easiness, but there’s an underlying quality that feels stiffer. Stu tries to convince himself that any inconsistencies with the pout of your lips and the set of your brow is a product of the low lighting or his own tiredness reading too much into things.

Your reactions tonight had been a surprise display of how well things are working. You’re all over them, you need them, you--He had never seen you like that. Most of it felt the way he imagined it would, but that relief was undercut by a different kind of tightness in his chest.

Stu runs his thumb over your knuckles. Billy sighs, finally turning his focus towards you. He smooths his thumb across your collarbone. “She’s fine.”

Stu presses his lips together for a moment. “Yeah.”

Billy manages to read that just as easily as he read Stu’s silence. He moves his hand to reach for Stu’s shoulder. “We want her needy, not broken. We’ll just ease off, no calls until she’s ready.”

“Yeah, she just--” There’s no way to say it without pushing at one of the lines they’ve both silently agreed to never mention. That moment in the kitchen when you slipped away, the blankness behind your eyes. It paralleled the way Billy gets when he gets into his head and disappears for a few days. The way he’s been for over a week. “You think she might need something?”

It’s an awkward thought to force out, Stu so skeptical of the idea it’s almost like it came from someone else. Therapy, psychologists, all of that mental fix-what-isn’t-broken bullshit has always been a sore subject. “Isn’t her mom a little...”

“Who gives a fuck about her mom?” Billy’s voice comes out more strained than he wants it to. Part of it is worry, part of it is the implication of motherhood and maternal genetics being that significant. “She--” There’s no real end to his sentence. What is it about you that makes Billy so sure you’ll be okay? Makes him so sure you have to be okay?

It’s not that you have that much going for you survival wise. You’re a good person, but that doesn’t mean much. Good people die all the time. You’re smart, but sometimes that just makes things worse. Billy lets himself mull over it, reflect on you and the way you made him feel when you walked in today. He decides then that you do have something going for you. “She has us.”

That admission serves as a sort of apology. “You and me. That’s all the help she needs.”

You shift against his side, still asleep. The way you held onto him earlier bubbles in his chest. It’s one thing for you to need them, another thing to think that they’re so fucked up they broke the one good, normal thing about them.

Stu frowns, noting the heaviness behind Billy’s eyes. It’s familiar, and now some version of that shadow that pulls Billy away from him is trying to take you. “We just won’t leave her alone.”

That might not be the best thing to say, considering that the closest they come to acknowledging Billy’s occasional slip aways is Stu’s extended presence during those periods. The implication that Billy needs to be looked out for the same way you do is also risky, something that could be taken too seriously depending on Billy’s mood.

A beat of silence, but Billy doesn’t stiffen or react to the implied similarities. “Until she snaps out of it, we don’t leave her alone.” They already spend an amount of time with you that’s hard to justify. Especially with the ever approaching grand finale of their plan. “I’ll need help with my history homework or get tickets to some movie, and when I’m not doing that, you’ll need help with an essay or be in a fight with your parents or--or anything.”

Letting go of your hand, Stu leans further into the couch and stretches his arm over the couch. He rests his palm against Billy’s shoulder. “Yeah.” There’s more he could say. A range of things, maybe a joke or two about your unexpected outburst of worry. “We’ve got her.”

Billy nods, the motion stiff as he avoids looking at either Stu or you. He’s used to Stu’s closeness, and your openness tonight did ease that part of him that always assumes anyone that matters is flighty, but it’s pairing itself with things he’s not used to. The combination is starting to make him feel off, uncomfortable in a way he can’t understand.

“We should wake her up.” Billy’s voice is flat. “Her neck will hurt in the morning if we don’t.”

Stu’s expression shifts to something a lot more smug. “I’ve got it.”

Billy rolls his eyes. Stu’s exaggerating in an attempt to bring back a more easy going atmosphere, but Stu’s definition of reasonably touchy is different than most. You’ve been through enough for one night, so Billy moves away. You let out an annoyed sound, trying to move closer to him in your sleep. He ignores the fondness that stabs at him and gently shakes your shoulder. Your eyes squint open.

----

The dimness of the room makes it hard to register the fact that I’m awake. It takes a second, but I get there enough to pull myself off of Billy’s shoulder. I straighten my back, ignoring the hint of stiffness I feel in my neck.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes, looking at Billy and then Stu. “What?”

“So much for too riveting to fall asleep.”

Billy’s a little too amused by the fact that I briefly dozed off. “I was...barely out.”

The corner of his mouth turns upwards, “Then explain the snoring.”

I scoff, moving back to give myself some space to hit his arm. “I do not snore.” He raises his eyebrows at me and somehow that’s more insulting than if he would have pressed the argument. I turn my head to look at Stu, “I don’t snore, right?”

Stu takes my hand, squeezing my fingers. “It’s a cute snore, angel.”

Sighing, I pull my hand away from his grasp, ignoring his pout. “You are so just taking his side.”

He holds up his hands, “You’re adorable, but I’m neutral.”

Yeah, right. “Yeah, you’re Switzerland.”

“Someone woke up moody.”

Because I have no good defense and sleep is still making my eyelids feel heavy, I just glare in his direction. Stu chooses to retaliate by placing a hand on the side of my head and pulling me towards him, placing a kiss against my temple before I can tell him to knock it off.

Wrinkling my nose, I twist my arm back, trying to smack his chest. Stu lets go of my head and catches my open palm with an ease that’s a little insulting. He squeezes my wrist to his chest, head angling downwards. The light coming from the TV changes as one scene cuts to the next. The dimness seems to briefly lodge itself behind Stu’s eyes.

“You know you’ve played into my trap.”

Stu angles his head to one side, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He makes a silent point by lightly tugging on my wrist. “Really?”

“Mhm.” I straighten my spine instinctually, even though any height I get from that is useless. “I’m building your confidence, so that when I decide to attack you, you’ll never see it coming.”

He grins before letting out a laugh. I know that I’m joking, but again, being dismissed that quickly is a little rude. I’ve never given him any reason to think I could kick his ass, but it’s not that impossible. “When?”

I pull my arm towards my lap and Stu lets me go. “Shut up.”

“What? I’m on your side.” Right. “You’re a mastermind, angel.”

Billy sits up before exhaling. The sigh is low and brief but gives away how tired of us he’s getting. I can’t blame him, Stu and I are a lot to manage even when he’s well rested. “I don’t think you have to try too hard to build his ego.”

I smile, turning my head to look at Billy. “It’s not a complicated plan.”

Stu scoffs out a sound of protest before sinking further into the couch. “Fuck you guys.”

A joke about how he’s pouting briefly comes to mind, but I decide that I’m too tired to push it. Considering how little sleep we’ve all gotten, it’d be easy to pass the line between easy going teasing and into one of Stu’s actual moods. “We’re kidding.”

“Yeah,” Billy starts, and I already know it’s not going anywhere good, “You’re the most humble.”

Stu looks over my head to flatly glare at Billy. “Hysterical.”

Despite Stu’s annoyed expression, there’s something about the exchange that’s so familiar it feels easy. Lighthearted despite potentially sharp edges. It’s the specific energy that’s usually associated with a specific group. “You two argue like an old, married couple.”

That shocks Stu enough to make him forget any potential argument. His expression blanks as he turns his head down sharply to look at me. Whatever he finds in my amused expression makes him laugh. “Yeah, like I’d tie myself down to Billy’s sorry ass long enough to grow old together.”

Billy scoffs, and even that feels in good humor. “Like I’d be able to put up with him that long.” The words are dismissive, Billy’s tone bored, but I don’t miss the way he glances over at Stu.

“Please,” Stu mumbles, pushing Billy’s arm from around the ledge of the couch before leaving his hand there, “You’d be lucky.” Stu scoffs out the sentence, but again, there’s something warmer lurking beneath the surface.

It’s hard not to smile at the hidden in plain sight display of fondness. They really do get each other. I don’t know what’s shifted in the two seconds of silence, but I can practically feel them disappearing into one of their silent exchanges. It’s weirdly cute, but it’d be cuter if I wasn’t sitting between them during it. My position feels like it’s highlighting how out of place I am.

Stu’s arm moves off the back of the couch and settles on my shoulders. “Who’s too good for who, sweetheart?”

Yeah, there’s no way I’m even giving that a joke answer. “I’m tired, not stupid.”

He frowns, “You’re no fun.” Before I can respond, Stu adjusts his hold on my shoulder to angle me a little closer to him. “I get it.” To his credit, Stu is whispering, but his voice is still loud enough for Billy to hear. Definitely on purpose. Stu angles his head towards me, leaning closer in order to pretend that this next part’s the real secret,“We’ve got to keep Billy’s feelings safe.”

Billy lifts a hand off the back of the couch and flicks the side of Stu’s head.

Even though I’d have to crane my neck awkwardly to look at Billy, I can feel him shrug. The motion briefly brings how close the two of them are to the front of my mind.

“Ow--man, what was that for?”

I laugh, the sound too sudden and loud for this time of night. Stu might take that the wrong way, but I can’t help it anymore than I can help the way I slump into the couch.

“Okay.” Billy sounds a little like someone speaking to a child resisting nap time, but does nothing to get me off of his shoulder. “Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again.”

The thought of going to bed isn’t appealing, but I’ve complicated enough things tonight. I peel myself off of Billy’s shoulder and he keeps an assuring hand on my back. Stu follows along, standing up first and then making a point to hold onto my arm like I could fall without his support.

We walk up the stairs almost exactly like that, hovering close together like kindergarteners on a field trip. It’s reassuring as we get to Stu’s room, helping me fight against the lingering anxiety from my dream. I focus on that as I force myself to sit on the edge of the bed. They’re fine.

Billy lays down on the same side he was on before. When I don’t move, he turns enough to nudge my shoulder. I take that as a sign to force myself to actually lay down. There’s no good way to justify the nerves. I fell asleep earlier and nothing bad happened.

“Nothing’s going to happen.” The sentence is forced out and mumbled in a way that doesn’t fit Billy. It feels so hesitant I almost convince myself that I imagined it.

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, moving so that his arm brushes against mine, “Everything’s okay, angel.” He pulls my hand towards him. “Promise.”

Still not the kind of thing that can be guaranteed, but I want to believe them. I nod even though it’s too dark for either of them to see. The motion is more for me, anyway, an attempt to force myself to agree. Things are okay for now, and that’s enough for me to close my eyes. It doesn’t take long for the lingering sleep in my body to come back, dragging me under before I can overthink anything else.

----

Sunlight speckles the darkness behind my eyelids. It’s not an overwhelming brightness, but the change is jarring enough to wake me up slowly. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, a little disappointed that the hazy feeling in my head doesn’t go away with the movement. Lack of sleep, I guess.

I blink, turning my head to check on Stu. He’s still asleep, partially curled onto his side. It could be because of how energetic he is while awake, but Stu’s sleep always seems so full. My head turns in the other direction. Billy’s still, eyes shut, but something about his position feels stiff. I frown, making a point of only studying him out of the corner of my eye even though his eyes are closed. I wouldn’t put it past him to just know.

Billy turns a little, the motion controlled enough to pass as something someone would do while asleep. He lets out a small sigh, another thing that could or couldn’t be sleep. “You’re up.” It almost sounds like an accusation.

So he was awake. Knew it. “So are you.”

He squints his eyes open. A few strands of hair fall forward as he angles his head to look at me. My eyes lock on the way they brush against his forehead. I squeeze my hands together, weirded out by the fact that I think it’d take less effort to push his hair back into place than to not, that it’s taking any effort to not fix.

“Did you sleep okay, at least?”

The question surprises me more than it should. Billy may seem like the kind of teenage boy that’s too cool for a lot of things, but every once in awhile something a little softer slips out. A bit of a mother hen quality that likes to hide under a thin layer of snarky concern. I’d point this out, but I’m attached to our friendship.

I prop my head up. “Yeah, I slept okay.” And I don’t even have to lie to say that. After lying down, it took no time at all for me to fall asleep. An all consuming, dreamless sleep, which is all I wanted. “You?”

“Okay.”

Hm. That was a quick answer. He seems fine, but the shadows under his eyes have been a little more prominent than usual lately. That paired with the glimpse of what I saw yesterday has to be worth noting, right?

My eyes drop to the comforter. “You um...” I press my nails into the fabric. “Yesterday, I know I totally freaked, so I might sound a little hypocritical, but when I got here...you didn’t seem...” Ugh...there’s no good way to say this to him. It’s easy for him to twist things in his head and I don’t want him to feel attacked. “...Like you.”

It’s only been a few seconds, but the silence expands something between us. My nails dig into the plush comforter even harder to distract myself, but it’s not working. I have to look up. Billy’s expression shifts from overwhelmingly blank to something a little harder when our eyes meet.

“It’s just been a long week.” His tone is casual enough, but it’s missing what makes him familiar. “My dad’s on me about grades, senior year...”

Billy did not just try to pin everything on his ‘senior year’. The realization that he’s probably lying, or at the very least, not telling me the entire truth, tries to crawl to the front of my mind, but it fails. It doesn’t matter.

“Whatever it is...” I take a deep breath, “If you ever want to talk about it more, or just...need anything...”

His eyebrows pinch together, eyes taking their time passing over my face. I don’t know what he could possibly be looking for in my expression. He must find it, because he eventually looks down. “Trust me, if I ever want to have a feelings talk, you’re the first person I’ll go to.”

There’s a hint of teasing in his voice that makes it easy to smile. “I get it...” Billy places his palm over the back of my hand. “I’m all mush.”

“Eh,” he tilts his head, playing into the joke as I roll my eyes. He shifts so that more of his weight is resting on his elbow. “You’re nice.” The shift in tone is sharp enough to give me whiplash. “You care about people.”

I keep my eyes on our hands. “You’re nice, too.” He might not be aware of it, but he’s a lot kinder and more careful than people give him credit for. He’s always there when I need him and he always tries to understand. “You’re a good friend, so if you--”

“I’ve seen you get worse over a math test.” Technically true, but that was a complicated situation. It wasn’t just the math test, it was the morning after the Ghostface attack and then I found photos of the Becker’s yard printed in a copy of the newspaper abandoned in the bathroom. But I have reacted pretty dramatically to less than ideal grades before.

Billy’s hand grips mine with a little more pressure than before. “Yeah,” I mumble, already regretting trying to push.

He sighs, “I’m okay.”

Billy relaxes his hold on my hand. “Yeah,” I nod, “Guess I’m just a little overprotective.”

“You like me that much, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “Eh. You’re okay.”

His eyebrows draw together in exaggerated offense, “Just for that, I’m not making you breakfast.”

He lets go of my hand and moves to stand in an attempt to make his threat seem more genuine. I push myself to sit up fully, “You know how to make breakfast?”

Billy’s already approaching the door but he turns his head enough to glare at me. “I’ve never set off the fire alarm.”

“That was one time.”

He dismisses my defense by opening the door. I push myself off the bed, looking over at Stu. He’s still out. “He’s fine, he’ll wake up when he’s hungry.”

I focus on the even rise and fall of his chest. Stu’s face is pressed into his pillow, one leg still covered by his blanket and the other kicked out, dangling close to the edge of the bed. At least one of us knows how to sleep.

“Yeah,” I agree, walking towards the door, “He’s lucky we’re too nice to draw on him.”

Billy looks back at me as he steps onto the stairs, “He’s lucky I don’t have a pen.”

I laugh. “Maybe we can find one.”

The part of the living room that’s too far away from the windows to reach a decent amount of sunlight is still illuminated. An artificial glow catches my attention. I guess no one turned off the TV last night.

I walk towards the TV, crossing my legs beneath me as I sit down. It takes a second because of all the extra buttons on the control panel--rich people TVs should have instruction manuals taped to their sides--but my eyes eventually find the off button. I press it and all the TV does is turn staticky.

“The tape’s still in there, you need to turn off the VCR first.”

Makes sense. I mess with the buttons, turning the whole thing back on and starting over. Billy waits near the couch as I manage to turn the VCR off because after a second, regular cable starts playing. I hit another button. Instead of powering off, the TV switches to another channel. Before I can press anything else, a voice catches my attention. “The police department still has no leads on the crime that has rocked this sleepy community almost a year after the still unsolved murder of Maureen Prescott.”

“Isn’t Gale Weathers that journalist you yelled at?”

Ugh--that’s how I know her. "I didn’t yell.” I stare at her focused expression as she stares down the camera. “I just made my thoughts on her journalistic process clear.” She’s wearing a suit that’s as vibrant as the one she was wearing when I met her at school. “Also my thoughts on what she was wearing.”

The studio lights reflect against her gingery red, blonde highlighted hair in a way that’s unfortunately put together. “She’s kinda pretty, I guess...” Her getting-the-story-at-any-cost personality is something I’d admire if it was directed at anyone else. “For someone that totally sucks.”

“Which is why I’m still pressing forward with an updated version of my book detailing the two crimes, the suspects, and the most recent piece to the complicated puzzle--the sole survivor of the Becker Case.”

Oh, there is no way she means--

My yearbook photo flashes onto the corner of the screen. “Local high schooler, Y/n L/n.”

Blood rushes to my ears. Something warm and assured squeezes my shoulder. Billy. “Y/n?”

The floorboards creek beneath the weight of even footsteps. “Thanks for--” The grogginess in Stu’s voice disappears with the rest of his original sentence, “What happened?”

I finally connect with my body enough to pick my jaw up off the ground enough to form a sentence, “She put me in her fucking book.”

----

a/n billy and stu when the traumatic thing they do is actually traumatic: 😦

also we’re about to get into the gale arch! yay!

----

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thanks for reading!! <3

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #final girl fic

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