#*googles 'how to deal with depression*

[iaerys]

just finished mistborn the final empire and... it's unclear to me how you guys kept going after this

[candyxatu]

what a start to being back at uni, I stepped on my laptop and shattered the screen this morning 😭😭

[pinkglitteringdemondildos]

Things really need to stop happening for like...a week. Just a week. I need a week to be like...completely and utterly normal and maybe perhaps even good

[lynkss]

i haven't drawn anything in a week help

[myfictionaldreams]

Winter Soup // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

Requested by: @senjoritanana​​ thank you so much, I hope you enjoy all the angst!

A/N: PSA I don't know the specifics of how poisons work and didn't want to risk it on my google history lmao so please ignore any inaccuracies. Please read the tags if you're affected by near death experiences, please proceed with caution and if I've missed any tags/warnings, please let me know!

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, hints of smut, angst (LOTS BUCKLE UP), fluff, polyamory relationship, poisoning, blood and injury, anxiety, crying, begging, near death expierences, reader is injured, pain, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitalization, protective Steve Bucky and Sam, everyone needs a hug tbh

Words: 7.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The warmer months were slowly starting to shift into winter and for some reason this year, the weather change was beginning to affect your health. You’d heard of the phrase ‘seasonal depression’ but you were convinced that it was due to the cooler weather that was making you feel this rubbish.

It had been happening for a week now, and some days you’d feel fine, normal in fact but then others your chest felt so tight as if an elephant was sitting on top of you, nausea, vertigo and heart palpations that would have you clutching your chest with fear you might explode. With each passing day, you would be praying for the summer months to return, especially as the snow and ice increased with intensity outside of your home.

You were fine for the most part, good days and bad; yes you might be getting worse with each passing day but you were adamant that the seasonal illness would pass. However, the frosty weather was also a minor blessing because it was your excuse to stay home and be a pretty housewife for Steve and Bucky. Being able to stay home made it easier to keep the illness to yourself as well, it was a busy time within the Rogers mafia and you didn’t need them wasting their time fretting over your wellness when they had a lot of other things to do. They had many international deals that were so close to being signed for and contracted that every waking hour was spent at the office, on phone calls, and emails, trying to talk to locals across the world to attend meetings on their behalf so the boys were thoroughly busy.

There were a few occasions you’d attended with them to the office if you were feeling particularly needy or lonely but it unnerved you to drive on the snow and ice so when you suggested that you might stay at home, Steve and Bucky offered no complaints.

At home at least you were able to mop about, trying to perk yourself up with movies, pyjamas and your favourite bowl of warm soup. Over the last few months, you’d been trying to improve your cooking skills, especially to impress Steve who usually cooked for three of you. This became more interesting as the colder months drew in over Brooklyn as this meant you could cook more homely, hearty foods such as soups and stews, especially as you had recipe suggestions from the newly hired grounds guard Rafael.

He’d been recommended by a friend of a friend for Steve to hire which was perfect timing because the last grounds guard had retired. There were a few occasions when he was the guard to bring the post to the front door from the front gate and you soon found he was enthusiastic and easy to talk to, even though he was a little bit older, which was how you found out he had previously been a chef and offered to give you recipe ideas. As winter drew in, Rafael began turning up when he knew you were by yourself to deliver some of his momma’s family recipe soups, hoping that the meal would perk you up which it did, they tasted so delicious that you were secretly hoping he would keep bringing them to you, especially as you continued to feel unwell.

“What is it today?”, you asked voice full of hope and trying to sound as upbeat as possible. Even though you were desperately holding onto the door handle as your head was spinning and scared you’d fall over.

“Potato and leek soup and they’re all grown in my back yard so hopefully you’ll love it even more than usual”, Rafael smiled as he handed over the container, his smile broad and causing the aged creases at the corner of his eyes to deepen.

Gleefully you accepted the soup, opening the lid slightly to smell the delicious meal, your stomach grumbling with hunger. Your appetite had reduced significantly over the last few days due to always feeling nauseous however it seemed the only thing that you could stomach was his delicious meals and therefore his arrival was always welcomed.

“Thank you so much! Please will you let me pay you this time? You’re being way too kind to me, always giving me free meals, you’re going above and beyond a usual guard”, you pleaded whilst also having to return holding onto the door handle as it felt like the ground was moving with your dizziness.

Rafael held up his hands and shook his head, taking a step back, “Absolutely not! Just wanted to give you something to make you feel better and make the fairies go away”.

The guard halted, a look of embarrassment passing out his features as he realised what he just said, especially as you asked, “Fairies?”

He awkwardly looked down at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to explain, “Yeah it’s just something my momma use to say. If we were feeling unwell, it’s because the fairies had crept into our stomachs and were being naughty and making us ill and now I’ve said it out loud to another person I’ve realised how insane that sounds so I’m going to stop talking”.

You squeezed your lips together to try and contain your laughter but that lasted a moment before you were both laughing which only turned into you losing your balance against the door and swaying to keep yourself upright. The laughter died in Rafael’s eyes as he reached out to you, “Woah, you ok, Ma’am?”

Quickly brushing him off, you took a step back into your home, trying to ask nonchalantly about the situation, “Yeah sorry, probably just the fairies pushing me over”. Your joke didn’t seem to comfort him in any way as he continued to look uneased by your appearance.

Thankfully Rafael didn’t push the situation any further, seeing that you wanted to escape back into the comfort of your home, he took his step back with a simple smile. “Get back inside before you catch another cold from this snow. Eat the soup whilst it’s still warm and I’ll be back tomorrow to hear the verdict on the taste.”

“Thank you Rafael! Enjoy the rest of your day!”. You waved him off and rushed to slam the door, sliding down to the floor against the wood, losing all energy that you’d built that morning just for that one conversation. Ok yes, you were feeling sorry for yourself as you tried to catch your breath, heart pounding violently in your chest that it also echoed in your ears and your vision was still seeing double of everything.

However your stomach continued to gurgle with hunger so without wasting any more energy, you opened the lid and ate the entire contents then and there. Releasing a satisfied sigh at the delicious meal, you took another couple of minutes to gather your senses before dragging yourself over to the living room, collapsing onto your back on the couch and letting sleep take you into a dreamless realm.

A violent shake of your shoulders by a hard grip on your shoulder was what startled you awake as Sam’s voice then surrounded you as he shouted, “Hey! Wake up!”.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been close to hating you Sam Wilson”, you croaked before coughs shattered your chest, rocking your body as you tried to sit up and suck in any air between the painful coughs. Finally, you calmed down enough to collapse back against the decorative cushions of the couch and open your eyes to look at the three Sam’s that hovered over you. After a couple more blinks, they merged into one, very distressed-looking bodyguard, eyebrows knitted together and jaw muscle clenched harshly.

Sam reached towards your face, pressing against your cheek in concern, “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

“What? I’m not ill, I’m just tired, can’t a girl nap around here?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow, trying to look as relaxed as possible. 

The man didn’t look convinced as he sat on the edge of the couch next to you. Releasing a heavy sigh which only twinged something in your chest that made you want to cough but you refrained from doing so as you emphasised, “Sam seriously, I’m fine”.

Sam gave you another serious glance, eyes hardening as he explained, “You didn’t sound fine, you were wheezing so hard in your sleep I thought you were going to stop breathing”.

There was no denying the panic that filled your heart and would explain the tightened feeling in your chest but you tried to not let the fear show on your face as you rolled your eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I feel ok, I’m just tired, I was probably just sleeping in a weird position and look, no wheeze now!” Taking a deep breath to show there was no more noise coming from your chest, however, it didn’t seem to comfort him in any way.

“Yeah well you’re still looking peaky and why are you so tired all the time recently, you’re never usually like this”.

“It’s probably just the cold weather or something. If I start to feel unwell, you know I’d tell you. I’m a big baby when I’m ill, you’ll be the first to know”. Sam looked to be contemplating believing you and all you were silently begging for was that he didn’t call Steve and Bucky, they just didn’t need this stress right now. Even though it was in his contract to call them at any sign of injury or illness but as Sam looked at you, other than looking tired, you seemed to be fine and still joking with him. Finally, he gave you a simple nod and you couldn't hold back the thankful sigh. “Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a little while longer or do you need me for anything?”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot recently”, he stated his earlier point again.

“What, so I’m not allowed to nap now?” you teased him with a subtle smile, hoping to crack his worried exterior. It only half worked as he shook his head to himself, standing up and pulling the fluffy blanket that had been left behind you on the couch and throwing it over your body. Before you could even thank him though, sleep had stolen you back into its resting state. 

Sleeping for a few more hours, Sam was nowhere to be seen but he usually liked to check the perimeter ever so often and speak to the other guards so you weren’t worried about his whereabouts. As you shuffled to the kitchen, you couldn’t tell if you felt any worse or better after all the sleeping, haven’t wasted another day feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to snap out of it by glancing through the refrigerator and cupboards and deciding to ssurpriseSteve and Bucky with a romantic meal.

The house was soon filled with delicious scents of sweet and savoury as you’d baked and were in the process of cooking their dinner. You were in your own little world and had only stumbled a handful of times with dizziness and the headache that was building was currently mild in comparison to others you had, it was fine you determined to yourself

Still lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even heard the front door open as you were suddenly enveloped by a muscular chest and arms, a smile aching your cheeks as you nuzzled back into Steve’s body. His lips danced over your cheek and down your neck as he held you close, the roughness of his beard comforting. “I didn’t hear you come in”, you commented, turning your head slightly to chase after his lips, sighing deeply in your chest as he held you tighter for a second, hands dipping beneath your shirt at your waist so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

“I did shout”, he revealed whilst moving back to neck, not to kiss but just to smell you in, his body almost melting into the floor as he felt at home with the familiar scents. “I’ve missed you”, he whispered against your skin.

Goosebumps instantly flooded over your body as you shivered, turning in his arms to hug him properly, your fingers scratching through his hair that was beginning to curl at the ends where he’d allowed it to grow out over the winter months. “I’ve missed you too”, you whispered against his lips, lazily kissing and breathing each other in.

“Come with us tomorrow, I want you to be near me”, he admits with words that were making you cling to him harder.

You wanted to say yes and the word was on the tip of your tongue but then your thoughts drifted to the soup coming. “I’ve got a delivery coming that I can’t miss, I’m sorry”.

“The guards can get the delivery”, he counters.

“It’s fresh soup I want it whilst it’s hot”, an embarrassed smile finds its way to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he just enjoyed the moment of the two of you being together.

“Soup? But we could order that to the office if you wanted it, you know that’s no issue”. 

You pout dramatically, hanging off his neck as you whisper with a childish tone, “But it won’t be the soup that I’ve ordered and want”.

Steve rolls his eyes but you know he's being playful, he could never find a reason to be upset with you. Rolling back his shoulders, he stands back to his full height, opening his eyes to cup your cheek with his massive hand but this was when he took you in and a frown dawned on his face just like it had on Sam’s. “Are you feeling ok?” The hand on your cheek moved towards your forehead, expecting to feel a temperature but it felt normal.

“I feel great”, you say with as much cheer in your tone as possible, still holding onto his neck but mostly because another wave of dizziness had rushed through you and you needed some support to stay standing.

Steve didn’t seem convinced, “You just … look a little off”.

You playfully rolled your eyes, similar to how he had just done, “Wow thanks Steve”.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that”.

“I know, I’m joking, I’m fine - really, it's nothing to worry about”. He eyes you and doesn’t fall for your grin so you tried your next trick up your sleeve. Leaning on your tip toes whilst pulling his face closer, you whispered against his lips, “I love you, Stevie”.

The tension momentarily eased from his shoulders as his grip around you tightened, “I love you too”.

“Sorry to interrupt your love fest but I want my own loving”, Bucky broadly announced from the entrance of the kitchen where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes however as you pulled back from Steve and he could finally see your face, the happiness seeped from his face. “Woah, what happened? Are you ok?”

You gave a frustrated huff, finally releasing Steve’s neck as you pointed in the direction of the decorated table. “Right, both of you go and sit down before I decide you don’t deserve any food for being mean”.

Steve shuffled away first as you continued to cook the food, Bucky looking ashamed as he came over and kissed your cheek but before he could pull away, you quickly captured his lips in a kiss to show you’d been playing before and weren’t upset.

“Why are there only two plates on the table?”  Steve questioned as he took a seat.

Without looking over your shoulder at him, you casually answered, “I’ve already had mine, I wasn’t sure when you were both going to be home and I didn’t want to wait”. They both seemed to accept your lie and you happily sat with them as they ate, asking about how the deals were going. They both seemed to be agreed that they were sure to have contracts signed tomorrow and had even been able to pay off some of the international police so that shipping of the goods could occur. In truth, after the soup, you were not feeling at all remotely hungry and even the smell of the cooked food had turned your stomach over.

A couple of hours later, the three of you were preparing for bed. Steve is in the middle and you are to his right and Bucky is to his left. You and the mafia boss had been kissing deeply for a couple of minutes, his hands beneath your shirt, brushing against your breasts, rough fingertips peaking your nipples as you ground down on his thigh. You were soaked and he could feel the evidence of it as you weren’t wearing any underwear but the longer the touches and kisses went on for, the more you were feeling unwell.

As his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and he began to trail open-mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your throat, you noticed Bucky was doing the same thing but to Steve’s neck from behind. However, there were two Bucky’s instead of one as your vision swayed and it felt as if you were on a water bed with how unsteady you felt. The headache was close to a full-blown migraine as well now which only continued to make you feel nauseous so even though there was nothing more you wanted than to continue where this intimacy was leading but, for once, you had to stop it.

“Wait, just- just one moment”, you pushed against Steve's shoulders at the same time. The blonde's hold on you loosened as he moved his face back to look into your eyes but you’d closed them, trying to hide your face from him and Bucky who had also sat up further to check on you. “I just- sorry I’m tired and I… I’m not sure- sorry.. I don’t think-”.

Steve’s fingers tipped your chin up to look at him as he smiled softly down at you, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. If you’re tired then I’ll just hold you close, ok? Please don’t apologise for not wanting any of this”.

You relaxed in his arms, feeling grateful for him but also bad that you could feel how aroused he was against your stomach. “Thank you. I’m just feeling so tired today. Please don’t let me stop you both, continue without me, I just want to go to sleep”.

“You don’t have to give us reasons why you don’t want to do it, baby, we’ll do whatever you want to do. Me and Buck don’t have to fuck if you want to be held, I don’t want you thinking we’re neglecting you”.

Affection and love warmed your heart as you kissed Steve’s lips and then reached over his shoulder to kiss Bucky. “I love you both but seriously please continue, I like watching you both anyway so that’ll satisfy me enough if I’m not asleep by that point anyway”.

They both gave their love back to you with praises and pecks to your face before rolling away from you and beginning their exploration of each other's bodies. You watched with a smile on your face for a couple of moments and your core ached with need but as a burst of pain pounded through your temple, your eyes shut automatically to help ease the pain and from there, they never opened again as sleep took you soon after.

The next morning, your migraine had gone but your entire body felt weak and drained of any energy. Steve and Bucky took one look at you and determined that they’d be working from home, wishing to remain near you but they still needed the comfort of their home office upstairs whereas you remained downstairs, pretending to watch TV.

Somehow, you had continued to hide your seasonal illness, they just thought you still looked peaky. Today was the worst you’d felt so far, even having to use the wall as support whilst walking around the home, silently coughing into cushions so that the boys wouldn’t hear upstairs and this only increased the sharp pain shooting through your chest.

At lunchtime, Sam came over to visit and found you at the table in the kitchen, head lying against the table top as you dipped in and out of sleep. You were too tired to even pretend to joke and thankfully for once he didn’t pester you with being unwell, especially knowing Steve and Bucky were home, he assumed they had seen how bad you were so he just sat next to you at the table, easing his hand under your head so you had some comfort against the hard surface.

Soon after, Rafael knocked on the front door with your soup delivery. Usually h,e would stay at the door, never coming into your home but Sam insisted that he come out of the cold and deliver the soup to you in person.

“Yay!” you croaked, reaching out for the warm container, seeing the soup within and seeing that it was a deep red colour today, possibly tomato.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Rafael”, Sam noted, taking his seat next to yours once more as the new guard stayed standing at the head of the table. Other than Natasha, Sam was the lead of the security and guards and technically Rafael’s boss.

“Oh yeah, he used to be a chef”, you explained to Sam, whilst opening the lid of the container, smelling the delicious food and confirming your theory that it was tomato soup.

“Chef? I didn’t know you worked as a chef”, Sam remarked with a frown, eyeing Rafael with confusion as he’d been the one to complete the job interview and didn’t remember seeing chef on his CV.

Rafael casually shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat tense at the questioning but still forced a smile to his face to please his boss. “I didn’t think it was relevant to the job, to be honest”.

“We’ll have to get you on the bbq when the weather perks up, maybe that’ll stop the arguments between Steve and Bucky”, Sam mused over the thought.

You tried to chuckle but the exhaustion had you slumping against the table as you mumbled, “I feel like shit”.

Sam tensed next to you, “Maybe we should call a doctor. You know, I’m surprised Steve and Bucky aren’t down here right now looking after you, do they even know how bad you’re feeling today?”

“Wait, they’re both here?” Rafael asked Sam but he ignored him, his focus solely on you.

Once again you’re too tired to think of an answer and shrug your shoulders, turning your head to look up at Rafael, “I think the fairies like me too much”.

“Fairies?”, Sam questions thinking that you’d become delirious.

You smile genuinely to Sam, reaching to tap his shoulder, “Inside joke Sam, keep up”.

There was no further discussion of fairies as more hacking coughs ripped through you. It took a couple of moments and Sam rushed to get you a glass of water before you slumped back against the table in exhaustion.

“Why don’t you have the soup and then see how you’re feeling later? Maybe the rest is all you need”, Rafael suggested, filling the silence with his voice.

You couldn’t see it but Sam gave his employee a scathing look, “Rest is all she’s been doing. I’m calling the doc and then I’m going upstairs to tell Steve and Bucky”.

“Aren’t they busy?” Rafael continued to question Sam. “I’ve heard they’ve got that deal coming up from Italy and France, they might appreciate it if you wait a little bit before calling Doctors”.

Sam’s voice was quiet and stern but you were too tired to notice. “That’s not common knowledge, how do you know that?”.

Massaging your temples with the pounding thuds that hadn’t stopped since your coughing fit, you decided that Rafael was right, usually sleep made you feel better. Reaching for the soup one more, you opened the container as you addressed your bodyguard, “he’s right Sam. I just need today for all the work stuff to be over and then I’ll call the doctor. The boys don’t need any distractions, especially today, one more day isn’t going to kill me”.

Sam didn’t look happy as you began to idly sip on the thick, delicious soup. As you thanked Rafael for the meal, Sam finally looked back to him, his frown deep and unmoving as he asked, “Don’t you have work to do?”

Rafael’s spine straightened, “Oh yeah, right. Sorry, sir” and with that, he left to return to work.

“You don’t have to be so bossy you know, he’s just trying to help”, you tried to reason with Sam.

However, your friend ignored you and moved to hold your hand to pull your attention away from the meal and towards him. “I’m giving you until the evening, wait no- if you get any worse before the evening, I am calling the Doc, no arguments, understand?”

“Yes sir”, you say with a little salute.

Finishing your soup, your boyfriends finally came downstairs and you attempted to straighten your posture and plaster a fake smile on your face. Bucky paused in the entryway, sniffing the air and asking, “What’s that smell, I know it's from somewhere but can’t put my finger on it”.

“Is it my soup?” you say, trying to stand up and act like the floor was spinning beneath you.

“No, it’s not that”, he pondered, still looking around and trying to smell whatever he recognised but couldn’t pick it up again. Steve and Bucky both walked past you, kissing the back of your head as you casually explained that you were going to lie down for a little bit. “Wait, let me come with you-”, Bucky started but you held out your hand to stop him.

“You’ve got a busy time at work and I’ve got Sammy boy here anyway so you two continue with your work and we’ll have a nice evening in, Ok?”

“Yes Ma’am”, he mutters before continuing to make his lunch. It wasn’t often that he listened to your instructions but both men were so busy and overwhelmed with work and the consequences that could come from it all that they were all over the place.

The next hour passed by slowly and you didn’t manage to sleep even for a moment because your symptoms were making you feel so awful. You were wheezing so bad that each breath felt like you were suffocating, your eyes began to roll with how much the room was spinning and a violent tremble rocked through your entire body, you didn’t feel right, something was wrong and it was beginning to scare you.

“Sam?” your voice was nothing more than a rasping whisper but he still was able to hear you from where he had been on the phone with the doctor from across the room, having noticed your deterioration in health. He was kneeling by your side in a couple of broad steps, the phone balancing between his cheek and shoulder as he rested a hand on your temple, feeling your spiked temperature. “I don’t feel good”, you admitted, voice full of terror before more coughs ruptured through your chest, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Steve! Bucky get down here right now!”

“No… no, I just need to sleep”, the fear had disappeared from your voice as you wished for the exhaustion to take you completely, hoping that in sleep you wouldn't feel the pain destroying your insides.

“Hey! No!  Don’t go t sleep, need you to stay awake for me, Doctor Banner is on his way but you can’t go to sleep”, Sam urgently tapped your face, rousing you from the sleep as Bucky had all but jumped down the entire flight of stairs at the shouting.

“What’s going on- What the fuck? Doll?” he replaced where Sam was so that he could continue to explain to the doctor what was happening.

“I’m just not feeling ok, it’s fine Bucky go back to work”, you were somewhat delirious, still not really opening your eyes but leaning into the coldness from Bucky’s hand as he cupped your face. Bucky looked to Sam for answers, his eyes bright and alert with fury and worry.

When Sam shrugged his shoulders, not having any answer as to why you were suddenly so unwell, Bucky quickly turned back to you and assessed your deteriorating health and noticed just how laboured your breathing had become. As he spoke, it was with surprising gentleness but still held authority, “I need you to take a deep breath for me, honey, I want you to try and fill your lungs with air”.

“I’m trying, it’s just seasonal illness, it’ll be ok”.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks, not letting go of your face but just moving in closer.

“It’s just seasonal”, your words began to slur as you became incoherent.

Steve finally descended the stairs with just as much purpose as Bucky as he demanded to know what was going on but Bucky couldn’t answer him as he continued to talk to you and keep you awake. “It’s not seasonal, you’re not breathing properly, it’s not-”. Bucky was leaning so close that he was able to smell your breath and he froze, it looked like he now wasn’t even breathing.

“What is it Bucky?” Steve demanded, kneeling next to him and reaching over to take your hand but also feel your pulse, which only made his own increase with worry.

Bucky leans closer and smells your mouth again, so close that you tried to move away as his nose nudged your lips. “What did you eat?” Bucky asked in a tone that forced your eyes to open with concern.

“Huh? Um just my soup”, you say whilst blinking quickly as he still wouldn’t come into focus.

“Soup? Where is it? Where’s the container?” before you could answer, he was on his feet and running into the kitchen as Steve continued to demand answers from his boyfriend, his hand now moving from your wrist to directly over your heart, continuing to count the beats.

Bucky cursed so violently that it actually made you shrink into the cushions but the movement only made you cough more and chest tighten as you struggled to breathe. He returned to the room, his face a deathly white and green shade as he uttered just one word: “Hemlock”.

There was just one brief second where not a body in the room breathed or even moved, one single second to process the poison that Bucky had spoken, the planet that he only knew about because of his time as the Winter Soldier and using it on his target. The poison that he could now smell on your breath, that originated from your container of soup.

It was Sam to speak first, Sam to snap the two men out of their frozen states as he gave the orders from Doctor Banner who had heard the word over the phone. “We need to get her to a hospital right now”.

Steve picked you up, and his entire body began to tremble with adrenaline and fear as no one even stopped to properly dress for the snow outside, only putting their shoes on before rushing to the car. Sam thankfully was able to use the adrenaline to remain headstrong as he climbed into the driver’s side of the car so that Steve and Bucky could both hold you in the back seats and try and keep you awake.

You were lying with your head in Steve’s lap with your body lying across Bucky’s as they clamped their arms around you as makeshift seatbelts. You had heard the word that Bucky had said and even though you knew what it was, you didn’t want to believe it, even as you continued to feel worse. “It’s not poison, it’s just soup”.

However, those words triggered something within your throat and once more you were coughing so hard that you thought you were going to vomit and cringed as metallic warmth filled your mouth and leaked out of the corner of your lips.

You slumped onto Steve and Bucky, head lulling back but Steve was quick to grab your face, tapping it and forcing you to stay awake, “Baby don’t go to sleep! Please stay awake for me! Stay with us, we’ll be at the hospital soon, I promise”.

You were scared, even though you were half-conscious, you were terrified now realising the severity of the situation, knowing that you were coughing up blood which was now soaking the front of Steve’s shirt and hearing how panicked your boyfriends were only made it worse. Through all the scary, dangerous times in your life, they always remained calm and in control but now they were both frantic and frightened. 

As all three men continued to plead with you to stay awake, you forced yourself to open your eyes, only allowing yourself the luxury of blinking occasionally as you kept looking into Steve’s ocean-blue eyes. With his body and face so close to yours, you used him to ground you in the situation, trying to copy his breathing which had slowed since you’d opened your eyes; ignoring the pain from the breaths and resisting the urges to cough even though blood continued to fill your mouth.

“Am I going to die?” you whisper, not being able to ignore the questions now in the back of your mind anymore.

Steve’s breath hitched for a second before he tried to confidently whisper, “No, you’re not going to die”.

You didn’t believe him, especially as the trip to the hospital was delayed by the snow, every second feeling like it could be your worse, you didn’t want it to end like this.

“I love you.”

“You’re going to be ok, just keep looking at Steve, keep breathing”, Bucky pleaded, squeezing your freezing cold hand.

“Please, just say it back”, your voice was hardly audible anymore as your mouth was so full of blood.

“Stop talking and save your energy for when you’re feeling better”, Bucky tried to keep his composure but you knew he was close to snapping.

Your breaths were wet and laboured, wheezing so violently it rattled and echoed around the car but you still managed to plead, “Say it back-”.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me, baby”. Steve snapped first, his eyes were wide, fearful and yet beautiful with how stark the blue was as his eyes filled with tears, leaking down his cheek and into his beard.

You were thankful, for both of them, for everything and you wish you could have told them, wishing that you could have heard Bucky’s own declaration of love and adoration for you but the pounding of your heartbeat became so loud in your head that you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

But you continued to hold on, never once looking away from those pretty eyes of Steve’s as Sam finally screeched to a halt outside of the hospital. Once more, Steve carried you and there was a flurry of people in different coloured scrubs suddenly surrounding you as you were placed onto a cold bed.

One moment you were staring into Steve’s eyes and the next you were looking up at a stranger and the comfort you’d once felt, the thing that was grounding you to life was now gone and you couldn’t find him again, no matter how much you moved on the bed, even as the strangers poked and prodded at your body until you couldn’t deal with it anymore and finally closed your eyes.

Do you ever have those naps where you wake up and forget where you are, or what time or day it is? That was currently how you felt except the added sensation of floating encompassed your body as well. The only sort of normality felt throughout your body was a cool feminine hand stroking across your temple in a soothing, repetitive manner.

Your toes wiggled firstly and then your eyes behind your eyelids and even though you knew who was stroking your forehead, you still croakily asked, “Steve? Bucky?”

“It’s just me Sugar” Natasha sounded calm and peaceful as her fingers didn’t stop with their soothing motions. “The boys are going to be so pissed that you’re awake before they’ve got back”.

You huff and dared to open your eyes, grunting at the brightness of the room but thankfully your eyes adjusted and only one, still, Natasha smiled down at you. Seeing that you weren’t going to vomit or freak out, Natasha sat back in her chair, moving to hold onto your hand to give you some comfort. “You gave us a real scare”.

You thought back to everything that happened, some of it was a blur but most of it still played through your mind like a horror movie that you couldn’t look away from or escape. “Was I really poisoned?”

There was one thing that you appreciated about Natasha and that was her blunt honesty, not one to ever sugarcoat her words, “You were”.

“But… But how? I mean… the soup, Rafael, he wouldn’t-”. You stopped yourself talking, trying to envision all the interactions you’d had with him but only one thing repeated through your thoughts: Don’t trust anyone. That was one of the first rules Steve had taught you. “I don’t understand why? He seemed so nice to me, is his name even Rafael? Was everything a lie?”

“That’s what they’re just finding out. Apparently, the friend of a friend rouse was made up including his credentials, usually, our background checks are very thorough but he had some help to slip through the cracks”.

“Do you know what help he had? Who it was, I mean?”

Natasha for once seemed to think before she spoke which unnerved you, knowing that whoever’s name she spoke next wouldn’t be good news.

The monitor displaying your heartbeat began to beep as it increased with the dread that was settling through your body.

“All signs are currently pointing to Pierce”.

Your eyes closed as you tried to remember how to breathe. You knew about Alexander Pierce. Everyone did. He was ruthless and had plenty of finances and power to pay for his success but not only this, he had been one of the top employees of Hydra and usually in charge of the Winter Soldier. So yes, you all knew a lot about Alexander Pierce and his name was one to send fear through any of those involved in the Rogers mafia, even Steve.

As you opened your eyes again to look at Natasha, you could tell she wanted to tell you more but was holding the information to not panic you further but you needed to know. “Please just tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me”.

“We think he paid this guy to come and spy on Steve and Bbucky and it seems he put his sights on you. Specifically.. Because you’re their biggest weakness and it seemed like everyone knows that”.

Your face warmed with fear and anger, as fear prickled the corner of your eyes, “So what, now I’m not even safe in my own home?”

“That’s not-” Tasha began to lean forward in her seat but another voice cut her off.

“No, you weren’t safe in your own home”. Steve stood at your hospital room door, dressed casually in a black shirt and jeans, looking nothing out of the ordinary but his face was wrath of calm and anger. Your eyes snapped from him to Bucky who had looked just as serious but as your eyes connected with his, the hard lines of his face smoothed out into a weak smile.

The two of them step into the room as Natasha stands, informing everyone that she’d give us some space and guard the door.

You’re trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, to keep them from slipping and cascading down your cheeks, not wanting your boyfriends to feel any more guilt but as you took a deep breath in, a sob erupts through you and you can’t keep the emotions back anymore.

You attempted to hide your face with your hands, even with the added difficulty of having tubes and wires attached to the backs of your hands and the tips of your fingers. The realities of everything that had happened began to destroy any hope that you had. You’d nearly died, in your own home where you were supposed to be most safe.

Steve and Bucky sat on either side of your hospital bed, moving silently as they always did and with careful ease, gently took a hand each and pried them away from your face, stroking away any tears that continued to escape.

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know… It’s a lot”, you tried to give reason for your crying, even though it was unnecessary. Bucky tilted your face towards him, his voice was so soft and caring that it nearly made you sob with how careful he was being with you, “Don’t apologise for crying, I tell you this all the time, Doll”.

You offered him a wet giggle, taking a few deep breaths before rambling on with your anxiety, “I bet I look like a right mess right now, I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep for”.

They let you calm yourself down before Steve praises with his low captivating voice, “You always look beautiful, no matter how much snot is on your face”. He smiles as he manages to make you laugh before he turned serious, “It’s been 5 days, baby”.

Your face drops, “5… I’ve been asleep for 5 days?!”

“You passed out when we arrived and when they could finally stop the bleeding you-”

“Bleeding?” you questioned, remembering you were bleeding from the mouth but it didn’t seem like that much.

“The poison you’d ingested that day was a higher dose and caused internal bleeding. After they were able to stabilise you, they needed to detox you from the poison and make sure your body was healing so it was safe to keep you asleep”.

You tried to process everything that Steve had told you, it felt confusing for you to have been through so much and yet feel such little pain in your body.

As if reading your mind, Bucky once again captivated your attention as he asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“No I’m not in any pain but I feel wrong like my body is floating in the water or something”.

“That might be due to the medications that they’ve got you on, they’re pretty strong Sweetheart”, his pet name helped to calm your disorientated mind, clinging on to the familiarity and focusing on the way both of their hands were holding yours and stroking tiny circles in your skin,

“Did you get the answers you wanted, from Rafael, or whatever his name is”.

Steve and Bucky shared a glance between each other but Steve decided to be the one to answer. “We got the answers, it was as Nat was explaining. Pierce wanted someone in the gang, spying and getting as close to us as possible and I guess they somehow managed to weasel their way in and tried to succeed with their plan to hit our weak spot”.

You took a deep breath to try and reduce the rising anxiety in the pit of your stomach before asking tentatively, “So what happens now? With Pierce I mean.”

“That’s a problem for another time, just need you to get better first”, Bucky interjected, lifting your hand to kiss the few fingers that were attached with clips or wires.

You tried to smile at him, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him but the feeling never met your eyes and this seemed to twist something in Steve and Bucky. Both of their demeanours changed, no longer were you looking at just your boyfriends but also the mafia boss and his second in command, mixing business with family.

Bucky began talking first, tone strong and husky, “This isn’t something we are taking likely. Sam’s already spent the last day and a half revisiting everyone’s past, making sure there are no other moles that have slipped through the cracks. No new faces are allowed anywhere near our home or you.”

As he spoke, you managed sure to nod your head and try to squeeze his hand in understanding. Steve shifted in his chair, capturing your attention as he continued the discussion. “You are safe and you should have been safe but we let you down, you were vulnerable when we weren’t there to protect you like we promised we would. We let you down, we broke our promise, we could understand if you didn’t want-”.

“Whatever you’re about to say you better forget about it right now”, you say sternly, heartbeat beginning to race on the monitor again as Steve’s mouth shut quickly with a snap. “The idea of being your weakness has always frightened me but, I could also be your greatest strength. I mean - Look at what you’ve been going just to protect the house, to protect me. I know you feel like you’ve let me down but I don’t feel let down in any way. Yes, of course, what’s happened is scary, especially in our home but I doubt it’ll ever happen again. They can try and tear us apart, they can try, but they won’t break us, they can’t break us. We have to remain on top ok? I always feel safe and trusted when I’,m with you both so please, don’t ever feel like I'm not because I am. I’ll always love you both, I’m not going anywhere”.

You sucked in air greedily after your short speech, the building emotions spilling freely everything you truly believed to the men beside you, not wishing for them to ever feel doubt for the relationship or how you felt.

Looking between them both, your heart sank as you noticed Bucky quickly wipe the corner of his eye. “I thought you said no more tears”, you spoke softly whilst trying to wipe away a stray tear.

“That’s before you decided to swoon me with your speech”, he quipped back, the light returning to his eyes once more as you laughed.

“I love you Bucky”.

“I love you, Doll”, standing from his chair, his metal hand stroked over the side of your face as he captured your lips with his, lingering for a few beautiful seconds before sitting back down.

Steve had lifted your hand during your speech and was kissing your palm and you reached out to stroke his beard, “I love you, Steve”.

He too stood, just as Bucky had but he kissed your forehead first, breathing you in for a moment before doing the same against your lips. “I love you too, so much baby”.

As Steve sat back down, your eyes began to feel heavy, all of the strong emotions exhausted you completely. “Will you both be here when I wake up? Not that I’m complaining about Natasha but she doesn’t spoon me like you both do”.

They both chuckle under their breath before Steve promises, “We aren’t going anywhere, sleep, Sweetheart”.

[godslino]

COUNTERPUNCH | minho series masterlist.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 6.1k (still counting) genre: friends to lovers, boxer!minho, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, eventual smut warnings: themes of anxiety and depression, mentions of therapy, unhealthy methods of coping, side character death, dealing with grief and loss, graphic depictions of injury, swearing, drinking, explicit sexual content (smut tags will be included in every chapter that requires them)

· · · ♡ masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

summary: lee minho, iron fist, gimpo’s pride and joy. at a young age, minho took the boxing world by storm, the youngest south korean national to be expected to win olympic gold. at the peak of his career, just when he thought he had everything figured out, minho’s world shattered. now, one year later, he grapples with the weight of what it means to live a life after loss and fights to find the version of himself that once stood tall inside of the ring.

STATUS: ongoing · · · ♡ TAGLIST: open · · · ♡ LAST UPDATE: 02/18

i. camellias — 6.1k

Changbin stares at him like he’s a bug under a microscope, every little piece of him magnified by a thousand. Suffocating. Minho can’t breathe. He’s not sure he’s ever known how. “I never said you weren’t fine.” The younger boy mumbles. Minho looks up from where he’d been watching a drop of water slide down the side of the stainless steel sink. “I just wanna know how long you’re gonna pretend that everyone around you doesn’t know that you’re hurting, too.”

ii. table for three — coming soon

[tags: @102598s @snowyquokka @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @astronomicallyyy @doohnut @caitxx1] **colored tags indicate my inability to link your account. this could be due to an error when you filled out the google form or you do not have tags on.

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[girlgenius1111]

don't let this darkness fool you

arsenal x young reader [platonic]

part 1 of 2?

cw for intense descriptions of depression and suicidal ideation. this is a really heavy one, so please don't read if you don't think you should. there are other fics, and reading this one isn't as important as you being okay <3

loosely based on the songs call your mom and growing sideways by noah kahan

- - - - -

There was a song lyric that had resonated with you since you'd heard it. It rattled around in your brain on bad days. Days like today.

"It's better to die numb than feel it all"

You thought of it now, as you sat, staring hard at the pill bottle in front of you. Your chest ached, deep within you. It was suffocating, feeling everything. You'd been fighting, gasping for air, for so long. The way out, the way to numbness, to freedom, was sitting right in front of you. All you had to do was take the pills.

Google told you it would be enough. That by the time anyone thought to check, it would be too late. You'd scrolled past the suicide hotline number to read the information. It hadn't even been an option to call it. If you were going to call anyone, it would be one of your teammates.

Not your family. It all came back to them, in the end. Every insecurity and fear you had trailed back through your past, to the people that had raised you. No, that was wrong. You'd raised yourself. They'd brought you into the world, but hadn't bothered themselves with making your world a place worth existing in. Too busy drinking, fighting, making each other miserable.

Briefly, you wondered if they would feel guilty when they heard. You supposed they would. It wasn't enough, though, retroactive guilt. They couldn't undue what they'd caused. Even if they stood in front of you, begged you to stay, you were sure their words would have little effect on you.

Your mind flashed to your real family, your team. The thought of them did fill you with guilt. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and you shut your eyes tightly, fighting back against the images of their faces when they heard.

You could make your peace with most of it, honestly. The only thing that you didn't think you could deal with, though, was them blaming themselves. You knew they would, that was the kind of people they were. A note wouldn't be enough, you decided. Written words wouldn't be as convincing as your voice, promising that it wasn't their fault.

Looking back, you would wonder if you were ever really going to do it. Calling Beth like that, you had to have considered that she'd answer. the only thing you could come up with was that you didn't really want to die, not really. You wanted help, and you didn't know how to ask for it, weren't sure if you'd be able to.

Regardless, you dialed Beth's number, deciding on her because you knew she went to bed early. In was only midnight, and if you called anyone else, there was a chance they'd still be awake. You should have known Beth would sleep with her ringer on, though. It was the kind of thing she'd do, always concerned with the people around her, always reminding them to reach out if they needed her.

When she answered, you were frozen, not sure what to say. A part of you wanted to hang up, take the pills as fast as you could. The other wanted to cry, beg for help. The second part was just so tired; you stayed silent.

"Hello? Y/n, are you there?"

You must have made a sound, because Beth's voice lost it's sleepy tint, and she seemed much more awake.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

"No," you responded, all but forcing the word out of your lips. It was amazing, how she could tell that something was wrong, from so little information.

"What's going on, kiddo?" she asked kindly. It made tears prick your eyes. It had been a while since you had cried, and you were surprised. You weren't really sure how to answer her, though, the one word you'd uttered having been hard enough as it was.

"Y/n, honey, what's going on?" Beth asked again, and you heard Viv's voice faintly from the background, asking for the phone. There was some shuffling, and then Viv's firm voice was hitting your ear.

"Y/n, I need you to tell me what's happening," Viv demanded. She was smart- you didn't need soft right now. You needed someone to tell you exactly what to do, not ask.

"I'm not okay," you managed. You realized you were shaking, your teeth chattering over every word. "I need help."

Viv pulled the phone away from her ear, speaking to Beth before answering you. You don't know if she meant for you to hear or not.

"Call Leah, call Katie, they both live over there. Tell them to get to y/n's as soon as possible." The Dutch woman pulled the phone back to her ear then. "Y/n, Beth and I are coming to you. We're gonna help you, okay?"

"Okay," you replied softly. You were surprised, when the only thing you felt was relief.

"You're at home, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me if you're safe, physically?"

"I'm not hurt. I haven't taken anything yet," you tell her, mind too jumbled to realize you'd said yet.

"What do you have in front of you?" she asked, her tone returning the the firm one from before. You told her, reading the long name off the bottle. You heard Beth curse from next to her, speaking faster and more frantically into her own phone.

"Don't move, y/n. Stay right there, Leah is going to be there in just a minute."

Sure enough, your attention was pulled away from the phone, really from the bottle in front of you, but whatever, when your door unlocked. Leah had a key. You'd forgotten. Her eyes were wild when she rushed in, searching for you. She was wearing her pajamas, and you realized Beth had probably woken her. Somewhere in your brain, you considered making a joke about the Arsenal pajama pants she was wearing, but you realized you had lost the ability to speak. Leah had arrived fast, though, even though she lived only a few minutes walk from you. She must have run.

"Hey, buddy," Leah said cautiously, and you heard 2 sighs of relief at Leah's voice over the phone. You sat, unmoving, as Leah approached you, taking the bottle off the table where it sat, and carried it into the kitchen, still in sight of you. She unscrewed the cap, and you watched as she dumped the bottle down the drain, running the water to ensure every little pill floated away, out of your reach.

Again, you only felt relief.

Leah returned, taking a seat next to you, and grabbing the phone out of your tight grip. You weren't really paying attention to her, lost in your head, but the soft words she spoke to Beth and Viv calmed you, if only slightly.

Someone's hand was on your knee, and you turned your head to see Katie kneeling next to you. You weren't sure when she'd arrived.

Your body felt like it was caving in on itself; something about Katie's expression, filled with so much fear, forced you to see the reality of what had happened, how close you'd come. Maybe that should have been the scariest thing, but it wasn't. Instead, you thought about how your teammates knew now. There was no excuse you could give that would explain what had happened tonight. It was a horrifying realization; that you couldn't hide how bad it was anymore.

Katie was speaking to you, her lips were moving, but you couldn't process what she was saying. It was like the volume in the room had been turned down, and the sound of your blood pulsing in your ears was all you could hear. You forced yourself to move, to do anything, and your shaking hand covered hers, gripping tightly.

It was all you could manage, really. Somehow, Katie knew what you needed. She moved to sit on your other side, wrapping her strong arms around your body, pulling you into her. You went limply, allowing yourself to collapse into her. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to think. You wanted to be anywhere else.

All of a sudden, you wished you'd done it. When you opened your eyes, you'd have to face it. Fight it. You'd been trying, and you knew your friends wouldn't allow you to stop. You'd missed your chance, and a part of you felt like it was shattering at the idea of having to keep going.

Hands were cupping your face, encouraging you to open your eyes. You complied, tears falling rapidly once you did. Katie was looking at you, and you could kind of hear her again, telling you to breathe. You hadn't realized you had been holding your breath. You inhaled a shuddering breath, before exhaling.

"One breath at a time, y/n, come on," Katie was saying. At her prompting, you breathed in again, hands clenching into fists as you stumbled to your feet. You weren't sure where you were going, you just needed to go. Katie and Leah were standing too, looking panicked, and Katie grabbed your wrist as you tried to head for the door. You wrenched free, stumbling on unsteady legs towards the door. Realistically, Leah and Katie would have stopped you.

They didn't need to. In through the door you were approaching came Beth and Viv. Your exit was blocked, even though you weren't really sure why you were trying to leave. It was like some part of your brain thought if you removed yourself from the situation, the feelings would fade. Instead, you fell to your knees, hands wrapping around your own abdomen, like you were trying to hold yourself together.

You didn't have the energy to hold yourself up anymore, evidently, because you were falling forward, and someone was catching you. You weren't sure you'd taken a breath since Katie had last reminded you to, because the world around you was closing in, blackening along the edges, and then there was nothing.

-----

You became aware of a soft hand pushing hair back from your forehead first. The cushions of your couch under you. Your friends were talking amongst themselves, about you it seemed. You were calmer now, thank god. You could breath again, and your brain had returned to it's regular state; somewhere between depressed and agonized, but nowhere near where you'd been minutes ago.

"Did she say if something happened?" you heard Katie ask, accent thicker than normal.

"No, she didn't say anything, really. Just that she wasn't okay, and that she needed help." Beth responded, her voice much closer to you. The hand on your head must have been hers.

Both of your teammates sounded anxious, so you forced your eyes open blinking up at Beth's face above you.

"Hey, kid," she said, her hand not stopping the motions on your forehead.

"Hi," you replied, voice all scratchy. You moved to sit up, swinging your feet to rest on the ground instead of where they lay in Leah's lap. it was quiet in the room, and you hated how all of them looked at you so apprehensively. You'd never liked when people worried about you, and this wasn't any different.

Wordlessly, Viv handed you a glass of water, and you took it, gulping it down because you were thirsty, and also because you weren't really sure what to say.

"What happened?" Leah asked softly. You dropped your eyes to the floor. Lying wouldn't do anything, you knew that. Still, the impulse to push them out was there.

"I don't know," you replied, somewhat honestly. Your tone reflected your feelings, though, and Beth sighed next to you, sensing you trying to force your walls back up.

"That's not going to work, y/n," Katie said. You looked up, then, meeting everyone's eyes. There was a determination there.

"I really don't know," you repeated, but you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, before speaking again. "Nothing happened, I was just tired. I'm really tired."

They nodded in understanding. They knew what tired meant in this context. Not the kind that sleep could fix, though you tried. The kind that sunk into you, gripped your soul in it's tight fist, and squeezed. Until you barely had the energy to move. Until all you could think about was doing what you'd almost done.

"You need help." Beth stated, almost like she was expecting a fight from you on it. She was surprised, then, when you nodded in response.

"I know," you paused. "I'm sorry."

You were apologizing for a lot; for acting miserable in the past few months. For ruining their respective nights. For being so difficult. A part of you was also apologizing that you'd called at all. Wouldn't it have been easier, so much easier, if you'd just done it?

"Don't say sorry. You called, you asked for help. That's all that really matters." Leah told you.

You recognized that maybe it wouldn't have been easier for them. Giving up was perhaps easier than trying to get better; for you at least. Right now. For them, though, they'd rather help you, a thousand times over, than lose you.

And help you, they would.

-----

honestly not really sure about the ending of this? feel like there could be a part 2 if you guys wanted, so i left it open for that if people are interested

also. writing this was a lot. reading it is probably a lot too. hope it serves as a reminder that there are people that need you, and the world is better with you in it. i know it doesn't always feel like it, but what you're feeling is temporary. it will get better.

[bloody-teared-angel]

Ppl will use any sort of excuse to defend *H*B* and *H*H* won't they?

"She's using her OCs!"

Then why is she using names of deities that people actually working with?

At this point I'm convinced that Miss Medrano isn't criticising anything or trying to represent anything, she's just living out her fanfic dreams because she's misrepresenting everything.

Stolas is supposed to be one of the most powerful princes in Hell and he's been woobified to no end. If I was the person working with him, I would be offended.

The same goes to Lucifer - this Fallen Angel is the sin of pride, which caused his downfall (and to some extent his dreams but mainly his pride) and not some visionary dreams. He's a prideful peacock not a depressed duck.

Speaking of peacocks, Marquis Andrealphus is also renewed figure in Ars Goetia, who can shift from his peacock form into a human form and is associated with the element of AIR, not ICE.

Lilith - by many (including me) is seen as an empowering queen for women. Many turn to her to seek strength and wisdom and sometimes for help to deal with mothers loss since Lilith's children got murdered in fear of what they could do. If she's gonna be Stella 2.0 I'm gonna loose it.

King Paimon is probably one of the two most offensive since he looks nothing like THE King Paimon. Man with feminine features, sitting upon a dromedary followed by spirits with musical instruments.

Beelzebub means 'Lord of the Flies' and is the sin of gluttony. I don't know whatever the hell is in *H*B* but it sure ain't Beelzebub and it definitely isn't the sin of Gluttony.

And as for Heaven, a deeper criticism could be made with listening to stories from ex-Christians, without demonising the entire religion AND without whitewashing any of the people in it.

Is it worth mentioning that Miss Medrano got the angelic choir wrong too?

"Oh, you must be so smart with your books!" I can hear the defenders say.

To that I answer: Wikipedia is free, Google is free, YouTube is free.

If she's basing her characters loosely on Hell and Heaven, she can't criticise Christianity since the characters have nothing to do with it. Nothing. None.

And also, how can she criticise Christianity if she's not going to include the Big Allfather upstairs, the face of Christianity along with the Son?

If she's using her OCs then they shouldn't bear the names of actual figure heads in Hell since they have also nothing to do with them.

[jessicalprice]

christian universalism strikes again

(Reposted from Twitter)

So a rabbi I know came back from LA pretty jazzed about a Jewish addiction treatment facility there called Beit T'shuvah and so we talked about their approach and that got me curious about non-AA approaches to dealing with addiction which, my friends, was fascinating.

I’ll admit that almost everything I know about AA is more or less from The West Wing. I'm fortunate in that no one in my immediate family has dealt with substance abuse issues, and as far as I know, none of my close friends are alcoholics. My knowledge is pop culture knowledge.

But hearing about Beit T’shuvah was very interesting to me because:

I'd heard that a lot of people who aren't Christian have a hard time with AA because it's so Christian.

The difference in philosophy was subtle at first glance but actually paralleled a lot of the differences between Judaism and Christianity if you dug into it.

Anyway, I got curious about whether success rates were different for Christians vs. non-Christians and started googling. I didn't find much in the way of the data I was looking for, but I did find something a lot more disturbing, which is that the whole 12-step thing is not science-based. At all. For example:

The National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse compared the current current state of addiction treatment to medicine in the early 1900s, when there weren't a lot of standards for who could practice medicine. In order to be a substance abuse counselor in many states, you don't need much more than a GED or high school diploma.

A 2006 survey found "no experimental studies unequivocally demonstrated the effectiveness of AA or TSF approaches for reducing alcohol dependence or problems."

And I want to make clear here that I'm not saying AA is bad--clearly it's helped people. The problem is that it's touted as a universal approach, which is a problem when it's not based on any sort of actual science. 

AA claims that its success rates for people who "really try" are 75%. (And boy does that mirror gaslighting diet language.) But the most precise study out there that's NOT coming from AA (https://amazon.com/dp/B00FIMWI1O) put actual success rates at 5-8%. One of the major textbooks on treating addiction ranks it at 38th out of 48 on its list of effective treatments.

So just like most fad diets, it fails for almost everyone who tries it, and then blames the individual for its failure.

A glaring issue is that the 12 steps don't really acknowledge--or provide any guidance or structure for dealing with--other mental/emotional health issues. That’s a giant problem when people with substance abuse issues have higher than average rates of those issues. (Take a moment to consider how the victim-blaming approach of “if you didn’t succeed, it’s because you didn’t try hard enough” is going to intersect with someone’s major depression.)

Now, if 12-step programs were just one available treatment approach out of many, this wouldn’t be that big of an issue.

But 12% of AA members are there because of court orders. Our legal system is requiring people to undergo treatment that is: 

Christian-based

Not scientifically supported

A failure for the vast majority of people

I mean, here's a pretty comprehensive breakdown that talks about the lack of scientific support for it, alternative treatments (like those in Finland, and naltrexone), and the fundamentalist origins of AA. 

The founder was a member of the Oxford Group, an evangelical organization that taught that all human problems stemmed from fear and selfishness, and could be solved by turning your life over to divine providence, basically. Sound familiar? He based AA on those principles, and given that the only alternative was "drying out" in a sanatorium, and that AA members would show up at bedsides there and invite inpatients to meetings, it must have looked really enlightened to people. In 2022, it bears a queasy resemblance to evangelizing to people in prison, literally a captive audience. 

To be fair--to their credit--they were some of the first people out there saying alcoholism was a disease, and not a moral failing. But they didn’t treat it like a disease when it came to testing treatment options:

Mann also collaborated with a physiologist named E. M. Jellinek. Mann was eager to bolster the scientific claims behind AA, and Jellinek wanted to make a name for himself in the growing field of alcohol research. In 1946, Jellinek published the results of a survey mailed to 1,600 AA members. Only 158 were returned. Jellinek and Mann jettisoned 45 that had been improperly completed and another 15 filled out by women, whose responses were so unlike the men’s that they risked complicating the results. From this small sample—98 men—Jellinek drew sweeping conclusions about the “phases of alcoholism,” which included an unavoidable succession of binges that led to blackouts, “indefinable fears,” and hitting bottom. Though the paper was filled with caveats about its lack of scientific rigor, it became AA gospel.

And then Senator Harold Hughes, who was an AA member, got Congress to establish the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, which promoted AA's beliefs, and sometimes suppressed research that conflicted with them:

In 1976, for instance, the Rand Corporation released a study of more than 2,000 men who had been patients at 44 different NIAAA-funded treatment centers. The report noted that 18 months after treatment, 22 percent of the men were drinking moderately. The authors concluded that it was possible for some alcohol-dependent men to return to controlled drinking. Researchers at the National Council on Alcoholism charged that the news would lead alcoholics to falsely believe they could drink safely. The NIAAA, which had funded the research, repudiated it. Rand repeated the study, this time looking over a four-year period. The results were similar.

The standard 28-day rehab stay, prescribed and insured:

Marvin D. Seppala, the chief medical officer at the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation in Minnesota, one of the oldest inpatient rehab facilities in the country, described for me how 28 days became the norm: “In 1949, the founders found that it took about a week to get detoxed, another week to come around so [the patients] knew what they were up to, and after a couple of weeks they were doing well, and stable. That’s how it turned out to be 28 days. There’s no magic in it.”

The last sentence here (bolded for emphasis) is especially chilling. 

That may be heartening, but it’s not science. As the rehab industry began expanding in the 1970s, its profit motives dovetailed nicely with AA’s view that counseling could be delivered by people who had themselves struggled with addiction, rather than by highly trained (and highly paid) doctors and mental-health professionals. No other area of medicine or counseling makes such allowances.

There is no mandatory national certification exam for addiction counselors. The 2012 Columbia University report on addiction medicine found that only six states required alcohol- and substance-abuse counselors to have at least a bachelor’s degree and that only one state, Vermont, required a master’s degree. Fourteen states had no license requirements whatsoever—not even a GED or an introductory training course was necessary—and yet counselors are often called on by the judicial system and medical boards to give expert opinions on their clients’ prospects for recovery.

And, again, the idea that this is the One True And Only Way to deal with alcohol abuse leads to medical professionals ignoring research and treatment options that could be helping people. They are, in essence, taking all this completely on faith. 

There has been some progress: the Hazelden center began prescribing naltrexone and acamprosate to patients in 2003. But this makes Hazelden a pioneer among rehab centers. “Everyone has a bias,” Marvin Seppala, the chief medical officer, told me. “I honestly thought AA was the only way anyone could ever get sober, but I learned that I was wrong.”

Stephanie O’Malley, a clinical researcher in psychiatry at Yale who has studied the use of naltrexone and other drugs for alcohol-use disorder for more than two decades, says naltrexone’s limited use is “baffling.”

“There was never any campaign for this medication that said, ‘Ask your doctor,’ ” she says. “There was never any attempt to reach consumers.” Few doctors accepted that it was possible to treat alcohol-use disorder with a pill. And now that naltrexone is available in an inexpensive generic form, pharmaceutical companies have little incentive to promote it.

I'm not saying that AA is bad. I'm saying its hegemony is bad. It clearly is effective for some people--a minority of people. But it's not for the majority of people, and that's a problem when it's being prescribed by courts (and doctors) as if it's a one-size-fits-all approach.

It’s not an accident that a Christian approach to treating addiction presents itself as the One True Way For All Humankind, insists that courts and doctors privilege it, demands that people take its effectiveness on faith, and blames anyone for whom it doesn’t work for not believing/trying hard enough.

Hegemony is a problem. 

(Photo credit: Pixabay)

[diejager]

how would the cod group react to someone who has medical conditions that affect them mildly but constantly throughout the day? Like, it’s very mild, but constantly there and noticeable

(Eds is a pain in the ass)

I don’t know what Ed was, but it gave me erectile dysfunction as a medical condition, or an eating disorder for mental disorder. I’m not sure which is which, so eh, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Parosmia Cw: I have no medical knowledge, this is all from google, mild medical condition, loss/distortion of smell and taste, triggering scents, tell me if I missed any.

You were transparent with your annoying condition, your documentation had it written down in medical conditions along with occasional tinnitus and sudden bouts of depression related to your distortion of scents. You’ve had some odours lose their potency, the fresh smell of cold aloe and cucumber dimming to a ghost of it’s freshness, and you’ve had scents that became too strong and nauseating, the usually delicious taste of steak became a nauseating rot and overpowering. 

Laswell had disclosed it to Price the day she showed him your file, letting him know that your nose might comprimiseyour operations if anything triggered it, but that, form experience from working with you, you knew how to deal with the disgust and urge to puke. She left him with out much convincing needed, because he’d seen you work once in a past mission in Siberia, a clandestine OP that had him sweating despite the freezing tempature and you hadn’t batted an eye at the attrocious rotting of dead elks and wolves near the base. He let the others know and reassured them that it wouldn’t compromise the mission if it were triggered. Gaz and Soap were more enthusiastic about having you, a little excited of having another teammate to act out with or to prank, and Ghost was more apprehensive and careful about introducing a new operation, but he’d turn around —eventually.

And he did, Ghost was the most careful around you, making sure that his musk and sweat was too strong to your nose, he watched out for any triggering odours and made sure to memorise all your triggers. He might not know how it felt, but he could only sympathise, trying his best to relieve your annoyance and stop anything from happening if he knew how to. It surprised Price how fast Ghost had opened up to you, to your snark and snide replies and heart-stopping grins. 

Fortunately, your parosmia was mild, a constant annoyance, but it was milder than the headaches Price had every night. He might not have as much time as the others to spend with you, but whenever he had the time, he would join your ragtag group for a drink in your room rather than the bar when he learned that the smell of oily and oversaturated fries and burgers had your head pulsing and throat clog up. He never brought up the need to go at a bar, he didn’t mind buying bottles and hide them in his office until the moment came for a night drink with his Task Force. 

Suprisingly, Gaz was understanding, quick to drop something to help you if you had a moment. Gaz would help you lean over the toilet seat, his hand running down your back in a soothing pattern, encouraging you to let it out and praising you for being strong. He helped you to your feet, knees weak and still a bit nauseous, and cleaned your face with a wet towel and handed you a cup to rinse your mouth before he lead you to your room, seated on your bed and helping you sleep it off. Gaz was a softer shoulder to lean on, confident in his care and unworried about being caught cuddling with you.

And Soap, oh ignorant Johnny, was confused at first, he made mistakes here and there, but he’s smart and resourceful. He might’ve been confused, but he made up for it, coming up with the weirdest and most amusing way to help you around base. He was as obnoxious about it as he was shamelessly showering you with affection, hanging off your shoulder and babbling your ears off while he wafted a scented near you that he learned was relaxing and comfortably soft for your olfactory nerves. 

They were surprisingly welcoming and went out of their way to make you comfortable in all and every form, you were honestly happy about it, even if you happened to annoy Ghost with your back talk as much as you did with Price, only encouraging and being encouraged by the younger men of the group.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

[copperbadge]

I've had to introduce a moment in the latest novel where Eddie is having a minor crisis, and I wanted Simon to recognize it because he's cooking a specific dish he always cooks when he's dealing with anxiety or stress. But it took me for damn ever to figure out what that dish should be -- I don't cook as a coping mechanism for anxiety so I was no help to me. And I'm all for self care but if you Google "stress cooking" you mostly get "simple meals to cook when you're depressed" which is not what I was going for.

I did finally come up with something (see below) but it occurred to me this could be a fun discussion. If you cook to cope, even if it's coping with something other than stress like anger or sadness, what do you cook?

As an example, you can read about Eddie's stress cooking behind the cut...

(context: Simon is enjoying an evening chat with his brother Hugo and Hugo's wife Gwen when he sees Eddie post to Photogram.)

"What's he up to, anyway?" Gwen asked, as Simon studied the post.

"Process photos for a dish," he said, mildly concerned, because it looked like -- "He's making waffles. American waffles."

"Is that bad?" Gwen asked.

"It's not...good," Simon said.

"It's what he makes when he's stressed, and trying not to think about something," Hugo, who had witnessed the stress waffles before, explained.

"Because you can't see the waffles while they're cooking, and if you check too soon, you'll pull them in half," Simon added.

"How does that relieve stress?"

"It doesn't," Simon and Hugo chorused. Gwen looked amused.

"It just means you have to stand next to the waffle iron the entire time and watch it, and all the anxiety goes into that, instead of whatever you were worrying about," Simon continued. "So he explained it, in any case. His parents taught him that when steam stops rising the waffle is done, so you have to watch for the steam. As a wedding gift they gave him the waffle iron they cooked on when he was a child, so it's..."

"Comforting," Gwen suggested. "That's kind of sweet."

"Yes, but not entirely a good thing," Simon mused. "I do wish he'd let go of the idea he's not a baker. He's entirely adequate at most baked goods I've seen him make, and it would do him a world of good to really get into sourdough," he said to Hugo, who nodded knowingly. "I feel sourdough waffles would be a balm to the soul, and also taste better than the quick-rise kind."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Gwen said.

"I suppose so," Simon agreed. "I'll speak to him tomorrow. Many confessions happen in a kitchen."

[barefoot-joker]

Two Lonely Hearts  Yandere!Miguel O’Hara X Reader

Hey, guys! I hope you all are doing well. This is my first time writing for Spider Man and for Miguel O’Hara. I just think he’s neat. The Spanish I did Google Translate so please let me know if it’s wrong so I can fix it! I hope you guys all enjoy and have a great day/ night!

Words: 2010

Warnings: Implied suicidal thoughts, anxiety, depression, yandere tendencies, kidnapping, talk of forced mothership

BEEP!

BEEP!

BEEP!

I sighed and groggily turned off my alarm. Last night I did not get a lot of sleep, even with my sleeping pills. It has been like this a lot lately and it sucks because the night is when my mind wanders the most. I hate that I have to deal with my anxiety and depression even while I try to sleep. It really sucks the life out of you.

Today I was in the mood to not get out of bed. I just wanted to lay there and let the day pass while I wrapped myself up in a blanket cocoon. I indulged myself and lay there for a while when I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I brought the blanket over my head similar to what a child does to try and get rid of the feeling. 

It didn’t go away.

I might as well get up. 

With that, I shrugged the blanket off my body and slumped my way out of bed. My bare feet slid against the wood floor as I was too tired to try and lift them. It’s going to be one of those days. 

I tiredly made my way to my closet and picked out a f/c t-shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and my undergarments. With those in hand I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I set my clothes down on the toilet seat and when the water was scalding hot, I got in. I liked hot showers. They felt like they got rid of some of the grime my emotions left. After I completed my normal routine, I just stood there and allowed the warm water to run down my body. Let the water take it all away, Y/n. Let it take it all away.

Soon the water turned frigid and I knew this was my cue to get out. While I didn’t like wasting water, it felt nice to just stand there and not have to worry about anything. The shower was like a safe haven for me. I could block out my adult responsibilities and emotions for a while and just concentrate on the water. 

Turning off the spigot, I allowed the cool air to pass by the shower curtain and tingle my skin. It was like my actual wake up call for the day. Sliding the curtain open, I stepped out and grabbed my towel to dry off. The fuzziness of the towel was calming and as soon as I dried off I slowly put on my clothes. I looked at myself in the mirror when I was all done. My eyebags had gotten worse and I looked a bit pale. I could almost compare myself to that of a zombie with how tired and dead I looked. 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, seeing if that would take the dreadful image away. Of course it didn’t, so I left the bathroom in search of breakfast. I hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a long time. Being around people lately was scary to me. It felt like their eyes were always on me and judging my every move. Looking in my fridge I knew I would have to conquer my fear and go out today to get some food. Especially since the only things I had in my fridge were apples, two slices of bread and some jelly. Jelly sandwich with some apple slices it is.

I took out my ingredients and set them on the countertop. I turned to my cutlery drawer and took out a butter knife. Looking at the blade, I regretted taking it out. My hands started to twitch as I gazed at it, ashamed of my thoughts going through. Breathe, Y/n. Breathe. In. And out. In. And out.

I followed along to my breathing technique and placed the jelly on one slice of bread. As soon as this was done, I disposed of the knife in the sink as fast as I could. My thoughts still lingered on the blade, but now that it was out of my hands I felt a bit better. Turning back to my breakfast, I placed the top piece of bread on to complete my sandwich. I also decided not to slice up my apple. I took my breakfast to the couch and began to eat, the silence in the apartment was deafening. I took my time since I wasn’t in a hurry to go outside and be an adult quite yet, not that I liked being in my apartment either. I was hoping to be in a place that was away from the world, my own little dimension. It would be so lovely.

I finished up my breakfast after a while and then wrote out my to do list. After this was done I put on some sneakers, grabbed my bag, and headed out. The walk from the fifth floor down wasn’t a bad one fortunately, so soon I was out on the street. The surge of people out and about made me want to crumble, but I forced myself to trudge on. Once again it felt like I was being watched, but I assume it’s all the people around me. Things can get like that sometimes. 

It only took me a few minutes to get to the grocery store, which is nice that it’s not too far from my abode. I grabbed a basket from the front entryway and began my journey. I had only gotten a few items in when I saw a child looking scared on the side. She had tears in her eyes and I felt bad for her. Even though my anxiety was high, I wanted to see this little girl safe. I walked over and knelt to her height. “Hi there, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I can’t find my M-mommy-y,” she said through sobs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said as nicely as possible, “I’ll help you find her.”

“R-really?”

“Uh-huh. Now, do you know what color shirt your mom was wearing?”

“It was r-red, a dark r-red.”

“Okay. C’mon, kiddo.”

I held out my hand for her to take and luckily she did. The two of us walked around the store when the little girl gave out a happy shriek. “Mommy!”

A woman with a dark red shirt and braided hair quickly turned and smiled wide when she realized her child was safe. “Sarah!”

She ran towards us and hugged her daughter tightly. It was honestly a very fulfilling scene. “Oh I was so worried about you!”

“I’m sorry, Mommy. But this nice lady helped me!”

The woman looked up at me and smiled wide. “Thank you so much, dear. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“I understand, Ma’am. It was my pleasure.”

She nodded at me, took her little girl by the hand and walked down the aisle. I sighed happily and continued my shopping trip.

It took me a bit to get everything, but in the end I completed my to-do list. Walking back to my apartment, I thought about the events in the grocery store. I helped out others all the time. Even though I was suffering on the inside, why should somebody else? However, even my kind deeds did not make my sadness go away, no matter how hard I tried. It was pointless. 

After I got back to my house and put everything away, I decided to take a nap. I was tired after all the social interaction. Quietly, I snuck back to my bed and laid down. My eyes closed and it took about twenty minutes before I finally fell asleep.

It felt like a few hours had passed when I finally woke up. I yawned, stretched and got up…or at least attempted to. I was confused when I felt more bed when normally I’d have my feet on the floor by now. Sitting up quickly, my eyes widened. 

I wasn’t in my room.

I was somewhere completely different.

I scooted myself over to the side of the bed and rushed out of the room towards the nearest door. I got out a few feet before I smacked into something muscular. I tilted back and strong firm hands grasped at my arms. “Hey slow down, Y/n,” a voice I didn’t recognize said.

I looked up and gasped. The man standing before me I had seen a couple of times in my city walking around. He was so tall with light brown skin and dark brown hair. He wore a skintight dark blue and bright red jumpsuit and his eyes. God his eyes. The red irises stared down at me and seemed to eat me up. He guided me back into the room I just left and I finally took a long look. It was minimalistic in design. All it had was a king size bed, a wardrobe, a desk, a couch, coffee table, another room off to the side and a balcony. He sat me on the end of the bed before sitting next to me. He grabbed my hands with his and squeezed gently. “Now I know all of this is new to you, but I can assure you you’re safe, Y/n.”

“Where exactly am I? W-who are you?”

“I am Miguel O’Hara, but you can call me Miguel. You do not need to know the exact location, just that you are safe.”

“How did I get here? I mean you kidnapped me-”

“Think of it as relocation, not kidnapping, mi amor. As for how you got here…you were sleeping and I grabbed you. I thought it would be the best time so you wouldn’t panic and stress yourself out.”

“Grabbed me?! That sounds like kidnapping to me! And of course I’d panic, I was taken by a guy I don’t even know!”

“Calm down-”

“No! I won’t! I want to go home!”

“You’re safer here.”

“No! I want to leave! I want to go home, please!”

“But mi querida, you were so unhappy there. I saved you! This way I can protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” “Yourself!”

There was a deafening silence between us. “M-myself?”

“Yes. While I was watching over you I saw how sad you were over everything. I figured you needed some company and this way I can keep an eye on you. You’ll come to love it here, I assure you. Besides, I feel better knowing you’re here. I will protect you, that I can promise.”

I didn’t know what to say. This man claims he’s been watching me and knows what’s best. I stayed silent. Miguel grasped at my hands a bit tighter and he tried to look into my eyes. I kept them forced on my lap. “Why me?”

“Querida, you have such a kind heart. I’ve seen the things you have done to help those in need. You’ll be a perfect mother.”

“Mother? Mother?! What are you talking about?”

“Yes, madre. I have lost so much and so have you. Why not let our two broken hearts mend together?”

“Because I barely know you!”

I ripped my hands from him and stood up. He followed. “But you will come to know me. I will be the best husband you could ask for.”

“N-no. No! Get away from me, you creep!”

I turned and started to run but Miguel leaped on top of me and restrained me with his arms. “Let go of me! Let go! Please!”

“Shh, mi amor. You’re just tired. I understand. Let me help you.”

I struggled until I felt something pinch my neck. Within minutes my body went limp and numb. Miguel picked me back up and laid me under the covers in the large bed. 

I struggled to blink.  

I struggled to breathe.

“Hush, mi amor. All will be well when you wake up.”

He leaned down and nuzzled my forehead. Just as he was going to pull away he gave my forehead a kiss as well.

My blurry vision then became dark.

[darlingmbappe]

When We’re Ready [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: After months of not getting pregnant, your mental health takes a big hit.

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, leave. Mentions of depression, slight angst, penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), brief self pleasure, cussing, google translated French, badly spell checked. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

The days were colder and the last snow of winter was sure to come any day now. Every morning, Kylian would leave bundled up and ready to train, and you’d stay home – left to your own devices with the same bitter thoughts you've collected over the past seven months. 

Getting laid off in early November seemed like a blessing in disguise, but sitting here in the chill of late February with nothing to do but wonder what the hell was wrong with your body made you realize it was more of a curse than a godsend. Maybe the universe was preparing your schedule for motherhood, you thought – needing time to ready the home for a newborn – time that you couldn't find with a job. But, still you remain jobless and without a child. Alone for most of the day, and sometimes days when Kylian went away.

Seven months seems like it’s too soon to feel this type of dreadful disappointment, especially since you’ve read it takes couples upwards of a year to get pregnant… but when you’ve prayed night after night, thoughts consumed with nothing but babies, listened to your husband raving about when the day finally comes, getting your hopes up just be let down once more… for seven months… it takes its toll. 

You were surprised when you heard a key jam into the front door, a mug full of lukewarm tea clung onto your chest as you watched trash TV in the living room, pajamas buried under the comforter you dragged directly from the downstairs guest room. You watched as Ky walked toward you with furrowed brows. 

“Hey.” His voice was gentle.

 “Hi.” You smile forcefully. “You’re home early.”

He hums and sits next to you on the couch. “Not really… It’s past six.”

When he said this to you, even with his tender tone, he hated how your face dropped with confusion, wondering how you spent your day cooped up in here. Of course he’d noticed your deteriorating emotional strength. He wasn’t so sure how to deal with all of this, also strained from having to pretend to be strong for the both of you. 

He kissed your cheek upon seeing your tears well up, pulling you into his body while you tried to hide your emotion. You laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

He rubbed your back in an attempt to sooth you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, mon coeur.”

You pulled yourself together surprisingly quickly, the veil of embarrassment not unnoticed by your perceptive husband, but doing his best to not bring it up and make you more aware of his knowledge. 

He ordered take out while you took a steaming shower, satisfied at the dinner table with a mouth full of chicken fried rice. Conversations flowed innocently, but your heart faltered a bit when you got that notification on your phone from your period tracking app – you were ovulating!

Great.

The distinct chime made your food so dry in your mouth, having difficulty swallowing it. You put your phone face down on the table, pretending you didn't both see and hear it. 

He stares at you for a bit. You’re looking down at your plate, saying nothing, not meeting his gaze – though you felt it. He puts his hand on yours. “Bebe…”

“Stop.” You grumble, avoiding his eye contact. “I’m not in the mood.”

He sighs, clanging his fork a little louder than he intended to in the twinge of frustration. He understood, but he just wished you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. 

In December, you both had visited a fertility clinic to make sure all the gears were working correctly – and they were. It was amazing news that gave you both a fresh drive after months of let downs, but two months and four negative tests harshly dampened that high. You had been pretty hard on yourself, even if Doctor Laclairc said you had a pristine uterus and it just takes longer for some people. 

The noise clattering on his plate caused you to look up, annoyed. Kylian rubbed his temples with his head in his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“What?” You barked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He was holding back, you could tell. “Just say it, Kylian.”

“What do you want me to say?” He hissed from across that table.

“Whatever you’re not saying right now!”

He takes in a deep breath of air, trying his best to keep his head level. You pointedly stare at him, waiting for something to leave his mouth. He wiped his face with a napkin, tossing it back on the table. “You’re not the only one hurting.” He placed it softly, but you can hear the deep exasperation, emotionally exhausted. It shook you a little, having seen Kylian as a steady rock through all of this. His optimism had carried you through, letting yourself cry in his arms to find comfort. Sure, you knew he felt sad, but he hasn't let you see his devastation in full swing. “Do you think I’m in the mood? I’m not. It’s exhausting.” His eyes were slightly glossy as he expressed himself, voice loud but so unsure. You stare at him, silent. “But, we have to keep trying. I want this. You want this – I know how bad you want this. So, please. Give us a chance.”

His voice was so gentle at the end, emotions soaking every word that left his chest. You dipped your head down, knowing how you'd let your thinned patience steer your words and actions. Kylian never deserved the misguided anger that you let seep through. He’d been nothing but an anchor through these tolling seasons, putting your stability in front of his own.

He gets up out of his chair and slowly walks to yours, kneeling at your side where you sat and stared up at your teary eyes. 

With your hand now taken in his, he places a gentle thumb on your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “It’ll all be worth it.” He confirms, kissing the back of your hand. 

You sniffled, nodding as you turned your body toward him. Your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck and his around your middle. You both breathed in at first contact, some tears falling into the fabric of each other's shirts. The way he grasped you was allconsuming. It was a true embrace that you returned. He just felt like home.

You kiss his cheek, smooching the area until you place one on his lips. Now, holding his face and gazing into him, the strong wall he had built was knocked down. You saw the pain and urgency swirl in his irises. He pecks your lips, letting his hands roam slowly on your back.

You sigh as your lips quivered. All he did was run a thumb over your bottom lip, holding back his own exploding emotions. 

He stood and your eyes followed him now hovering over you, both his hands cradling your face – then the pair of you found yourselves under the covers in your shared bed once more. 

It’s funny. When you first started dating, the infatuation was supernatural. You wondered at the time how you could possibly ever be upset while he had his cock buried inside of you, stare bearing down into your soul with eyes that were made of magma, fingers so curious and ready to please as they got to know the terrain of your body. 

You hadn’t felt the same way about sex in months. It felt like a chore. An obligation demanded by a stupid, inconsequential chime from the app that cost you €2.99 a month. Kylian would have to work himself up half the time and you were just a hole until he filled you up. Aftercare rituals now only consisted of laying still on your back with your feet in the air. An orgasm felt selfish for reasons you couldn’t explain. It’s like you didn’t dare give yourself that primal pleasure because you had convinced your body didn’t deserve it, having failed you over and over again. 

This time, Kylian wanted to wash away the notion that your recent string of bad luck wasn’t caused by one individual or the other. Through his achingly slow actions, he showed you that you weren't just two separate people trying to accomplish a goal; not like when he jerks himself in the bathroom and puts his dick inside of you right before he came. You were together on this. A unified front. Bound to each other for life. 

He praised your weary body, working you up like he used to. Moving at a snail pace, taking his time, dragging his fingers everywhere on your skin. The ‘I love you’’s and the expressions of devotion he mumbled against you flooded your senses. The drag of his member that squeezed against your walls, the inexpressible and constant eye contact, the lost kisses and marks left behind… It was purely and literally making love. He made love to you. You made love to him.

A fortnight passed once more and it was time for your bi-weekly personal hell. Kylian grabbed one of the many pregnancy test boxes from the cabinet in your shared bathroom, opening it for you and setting it next to the toilet – the usual routine. 

He kissed your forehead. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Kylian mentioned with a grin on his face.

“I hate when you say stuff like that.” You mumble walking toward the small toilet room to leave Kylian alone by the his-and-hers sinks. 

He stops you with a hand on your arm. The look on his face was exasperated. “Come on.” He pleads. “Amour, you have to have a little bit of hope. This isn’t how we thought it was going to be like, and I know that. I feel that. But, can you please just… fake it? For me?”

You sigh with a hand on your forehead, then churning out a grin for your husband. “I have a good feeling about this one!” It was a little too enthusiastic. 

He chuckled slightly at how forced your words sounded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was a really good try.” Kiss. “And I appreciate the effort.”

You shake your head with a breathy laugh, but the knot in your stomach stays put, even with the tiny little grin that found its way onto your face without permission.

You’d found the easiest and cleanest way to pee on that stick after doing it so many times. It was generally quick and you didn’t find it gross at all anymore. You set the capped test on the back of the toilet seat and grab some toilet paper. When you stood up, you looked into the bowl before flushing, and the knot in your stomach intensified. 

Kylian leaned against the marble with his arms crossed, looking up at you when you opened the door. “I’ll set the timer.”

You pressed your foot on the trash can pedal and threw the plastic stick inside. “Don’t bother.” You mutter, walking back into the bedroom and throwing yourself on the mattress, body turned opposite of Kylian.

He runs a hand over his scalp, feeling the anger simmering at the surface, letting his feet guide him out of the tiled room. He sees you laying on your side, staring at the wall.

“I don’t know what else to say to you!” He cries out, staring at your back as you curl further into the pillow. “We’re both doing our part. Everyone said it would take time. We knew this would take time! Not everything is going to go our way, but we cannot stop trying. I really need you to start believing we can do this. We can!”

“I can’t, Kylian!” You sob, letting yourself breakdown. This anguish was brutal and completely unforgiving. “I can’t do it.” Your words barely make a sound; calling it a squeak would even be generous. 

His heart breaks and it softens him up a little. He didn’t mean to shout, but everything has just been building and building up inside of him. “Hey…” He coos, crawling on the bed over to your side, holding you apprehensively while you cry into your pillow. He pressed you close to his body when he felt the shaking of your weeps, spooning your figure that jolted in tandem with your cries. “Shh, shh… I know it hurts, amour. I know.”

“Something’s wrong with my body, Kylian. I don’t care what Doctor Laclairc said. She got it wrong. I know she did. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, no, bebe. Nothing is wrong with you.” He squeezes you tighter. “Nothing is wrong with your body. Even if we find out that this isn’t part of our journey, I will never stop loving you. Okay?” His assurance only made you turn into him, burying your face in his shirt, leaving a wet stain in your wake. 

You took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, only succeeding in halting your wails of sadness, but the tears still fell freely. “I just got my period.” You confess, feeling a wave of shame and guilt once more about your failure to conceive. The bloody toilet paper was a haunting image in your mind. Kylian shuts his eyes and just squeezes you, trying his hardest to make you see that it was okay. “I can’t take this anymore, Kylian, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, absolutely wrecked by the sight of your broken down persona. He’d catch you staring off into space, a depressing dullness surrounding what used to be an incredibly compelling aura. You were a shell of yourself for months now; going through the motions of daily life with a dark vail behind your eyes, losing interest in the things that used to make you happy. 

He silently cried, but you felt the drops on top of your head. “It’s okay.” He murmurs in a shaky voice. “We can start trying again in the future. Maybe it wasn’t time for us yet.”

You sob again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay, amour.”

You continue to cry, Kylian finally allowing his tough-guy front drop in this moment of vulnerability. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, ‘till death parts you from one anothers soothing embrace, you are together through it all.

The months leading up to that next summer were mundane. You’d found another job after coming to the realization that you weren't cut out to be the cute stay-at-home wife, but instead craved some sort of responsibility of your own. Kylian felt like you shouldn’t even have one because he could easily take care of you. Being married, his money was your money, but it was never about the money for you. You needed to dig yourself out of your depression hole sooner rather than later, and a consistent schedule was sure to be a nice addition to the rebuild of your mental health. Thank god for time off, though. Your bosses were huge Mbappé fans (like huge), and you weren’t past milking that for whenever you needed a couple days. You never took advantage of their generosity, but it was nice to know you could. 

Summer in Paris this year had been nice, but Greece had won your heart. Kylian’s cousin’s destination wedding had been planned on a secluded portion of Corfu. The resort was huge and the pair of you were able to sneak away from your usual work duties for two days to attend. The private jet made for an easy travel plan and really any excuse to use it was sufficient enough. 

The last time you’d seen most of Kylian’s family was a year ago – that night you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You had spiraled when you got to thinking about seeing them again a couple weeks ago, pleading with the gods that none of them asked about you and Ky having children. It’s been a little over five months since you decided to put the thought of babies on the back burner. Closing in on half a year and it is still painful. Mentally, you both were prepared to welcome a bundle of joy. The pregnancy books Kylian had picked up were buried deep in drawers you never thought about opening. You’d finally gotten your sex drive back in these months, having to re-learn to separate the pleasurable act with the tedious work of baby making. 

Sometimes you guys used condoms, sometimes you didn’t. Still, your period came and went like clockwork. You still hadn’t erased that little habit of resenting your shedding uterus every month, but you definitely felt like you were making progress. 

“This is nice.” You compliment the outdoor beachfront venue, walking hand in hand with your husband into the reception. 

He looks around. “Yeah, makes me rethink our wedding.”

You scoff. “Shut up! Our wedding was awesome.”

He laughs. “Relax! Jokes, jokes…” He goofily defends, walking you both over to the open bar and ordering you a drink. “Martini?” He double checks. 

“Please.”

He nods, ordering himself a whiskey coke, leaving the young bartender a tip that made his eyes almost pop out of his head.

For most of the night, you had to keep biting your tongue at the waves of people that came up to Kylian and asked for pictures. Sure, they were nice about it, but he was just trying to enjoy himself – and Kylian didn’t like telling people no. Especially not his cousin's friends. Him being whisked away left you clinging onto Ethans side most of the night, finding that Wilfried and Fayza were preoccupied with spending time with the family they didn’t get to see very often.

But, oh, the wandering eyes of a sixteen year old boy threatened to leave you on your own when he spotted a young girl about his age scrolling on her phone with the most bored look on her face. 

“Ethan, no!” You whined as he brushed his suit of any pieces of lint, ready to get up and greet her. “Don’t leave me, please.”

He laughs. “Dude, you can’t keep a lion in its cage.”

You made a stank face at his bad metaphor. “That doesn't even make sense.”

“Ya-huh.” He enunciated back, typical sibling tone. “Me – Ethan – is the lion. Mystery hot girl,” he points, “a gazelle. You – sister in law– cage.”

You roll your eyes, noting to have a conversation with Kylian about his little brother's ego. “This is a family wedding, Ethan.”

“So?”

“So, what if she’s like a distant cousin.”

He makes a grossed out face. “Why would you say that? She is not my cousin.”

“You don’t know that, little man.”

“Don’t call me little man.”

“Aw, is little man embarrassed?” You coo, teasing grin plastered on your face.

“No, shut up!”

“But, you’re an adorable wittle man.” You baby-talk, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He swats your hand away as you laugh at him.

“Stop!” He stands up and smooths out wrinkles. “I’m taller than your husband.” He reminds you. “Little man, my ass.” He scoffs, giving you the middle finger teasingly and secretively in case his family saw the obscene gesture. You discreetly give one back as he walks toward the girl, a flirty pep in his step while approaching her. 

You sigh to yourself, looking around and noticing that you didn’t actually know where Ky was. Last time you checked, the groomsmen had bombarded him with selfies by the DJ booth while he tried to have a conversion with his great auntie. You grab your martini and get up from the fountain ledge you sat on, a little tipsier than you thought you were. You stopped and looked around for him.

“Cute, right?”

You look to your left to wherever that feminine voice came from. A blonde middle aged woman in a red dress stands next to you holding a glass of champagne. 

“Sorry?” You ask, unsure if she was talking to you or not.

The lady points to a table a few yards away – and there he was. Kylian sat talking to some people, a toddler resting on his lap. He had a huge smile on his face, poking at the little girl's cheek to get her to giggle. You grinned at the sight, loving seeing him so happy.

You turn back to the woman to respond when you look down at her dress. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. She tips back her champagne. “Don’t worry. It’s ginger ale.” You nod at her, chuckling a bit. “Kylian’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You turn your attention back to him just as the little girl stuck her whole fist in his whiskey, taking a piece of ice and trying to put it in her mouth. You laugh out loud when he frantically tries to pry her little hand open. Successful, he meets your eye and his smile was radiant and full of life, shaking his head. 

“He’s my husband, actually.”

She looks down at the empty martini glass in your hand. “No kids yet.” Her British accent was thick and assertive. 

You shake your head at the stranger and set the empty glass down on the empty table next to you. You felt a little awkward having this conversation with someone you don’t even know the name of. She must be some extended family or the wife of a distant cousin. She seems kind, but you weren’t big on sharing your personal life with anyone you didn't trust, much less know. Especially since you’ve been with Kylian, what you say affects him. He’s in the under bright spotlight and scrutiny of the public, and if you’ve learned anything while being with a global star, it is that some people will stop at nothing to get a story.

The woman tips back the rest of her ginger ale and sets her glass down next to yours. “Are you guys trying?”

She has an audacious look now that she stands in front of you and it makes you feel unsettled. “I’m sorry?”

The lady laughs a little. “I just wondered if you and Kylian planned on starting a family any time soon.”

You couldn’t stop the bewildered look that now took over your features. “Uh…” was all you could really say. You don’t know this woman, she doesn’t know you. It’s a loaded question and frankly quite bold of her to come up to you and ask. “What?”

“Kids.” She repeated, apparently not caring about the uncomfortable shift in mood. 

You opened your mouth, but had no idea what to say. You stuttered and tried to calm down with a forced chuckle. “What did you say your name was?”

She discreetly huffed.“Scheana Kingsley.” 

Definitely familiar, but you just couldn’t place your finger on it. “Right.” 

She waits. “So… any comment?”

“Hello.” Thank god. Fayza. She put a warm hand on your shoulder, perceptive to how tense you looked with this woman. “Scheana.” Fayza sighed. “Laurence is over by the cheese platters.” You loved how politely she just dismissed her.

The Scheana lady forced a smile at her. “Oh. Thank you.” She waved a hand goodbye with a disappointed breath. “Good talking to you.”

Your mother in law turned to you with a much clearer show of annoyance. You laugh lightly in disbelief. “Scheana Kingsley… should I know her?”

“You probably know about her. She writes for some news-gossip-pop-culture magazine.” She informs you. “Well, calling it news is charitable.”

“Unbelievable.” You scoff, crossing your arms at the revelation. “Who let her in here?”

“She’s married to Laurence over there. We try to keep our distance from them.”

From across the patio, Kylian turns his stare at you and his mother talking. You looked annoyed and frustrated, which made him so nervous. He excused himself from the small talk and speed walked over, thinking he might have to diffuse the situation – or maybe even get a scolding from his mother and his wife. God, he really hopes you two weren’t talking about him.

“My beautiful ladies.” He greets, kissing his mothers cheek then yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile at him. “You been having fun?”

“Yeah. Lot’s of fun.” He looks between the two of you. “You two are good, though?”

“Oh, no, we're fine.” You laugh it off.

“I saved your wife here from a conversation with Scheana Kingsley.” Fayza mentioned.

He shakes his head, scoffing a bit. “That woman… She has ambition, that’s for sure.” Now you remember why she sounded so familiar. Kylian had complained about his thrice removed family member’s new girlfriend a few years back and how she was a pushy reporter for The Paris Culture Magazine. “I’m surprised Laurence has kept her around for this long. What’d she say to you?”

They both turned their attention to you, waiting for you to say something. You shrug, but Kylian noticed the trepidation in your stare. “Nothing, really. Just some weird questions… I don't know.”

Thankfully, Fayza didn’t push it further, but you knew Kylian’s assuring hand on your waist meant that he knew something was up. You hadn’t asked Kylian if he’d shared with his parents that you were trying to get pregnant, but you doubted it. You would have noticed her demeanor change around you, given you saw her quite frequently. Besides, he would have checked with you before sharing that information with anybody.

There seemed to be a pattern occurring with you and Kylian leaving family events early, but the two of you were not only exhausted, but just not having a good time. The drunker the bridal party got, the more confident they felt hounding Kylian for selfies and videos. As for your mood, it was in a steady downward spiral ever since your interaction with Scheana. Just locking eyes, you both understood that it was time to surrender back into your suite. 

He held your hand out of the elevator, swinging your arm back and forth. The pair of you had an overly tipsy pep in your step from the drinks you’d forgotten to count through the night.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” He kissed your cheek, a smirk overtaking his face.

You giggle shyly as he unlocks the door to your room, letting you walk in first. You went directly to the bathroom, your bladder begging for some relief. Kylian wandered in to brush his teeth as you turned the shower on, taking your jewelry off as you let the water warm up. 

Kylian looked at your reflection in the mirror, shirt buttons completely undone. You were dazed. Quiet. He hated that look. He’d seen it take over you for months and finally, you were getting better. 

He spit the toothpaste in the sink. “What’s wrong, bébé?”

“Huh? Oh. Nothing. I’m fine.” You turn your back to him. “Will you unzip me?”

He turns, slowly pulling the tiny zipper all the way down. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder. “Did Scheana say something to make you upset?”

You shrug, taking the dress off and neatly hanging it on the towel rack. “She couldn’t have known. I don’t think she meant any harm.” You hop in the shower, shutting the foggy glass door and let the hot water run over you.

Kylians blurry figure leaned against the other side to continue talking to you. “What’d she say?”

“Just asking questions.”

“About?”

A big sigh leaves you. “Us, I guess.” Kylian listens, knowing you have more to say but are just keeping it bottled up. There was always a clear guide of communication between you two, especially because you were really good at letting things eat you up from the inside. You fiddle with your wet hair and Kylians frame behind the foggy glass stayed put. “She just… It was just weird. She wanted to know if we had plans to have kids anytime soon.” You chuckled, hiding your dejection with the sound. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s not okay.” He indicates. “I’m sorry she badgered you tonight, cherie. She crossed a line.” He sounded a little angry.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s fine.” He opens the shower door, causing you to jolt a little. He steps in, raking his eyes over your naked wet body quickly, and you his. “Yeah, sure, you can join me.” You joke as he reaches for the soap bar.

“It’s not fine.” He discards your dismissiveness, rubbing your shoulders with the foam. “I’m gonna talk to Laurence about that.”

You melt into his touch. “No, really, you don’t have to–”

“I’m going to.” He whispers, kissing your cheek. “No one makes my wife upset and gets away with it.” His hands roamed down your arms. “My hot wife.” His breath tickled your ear. “My sexy wife.” He presses his body to yours, nudging your cheek with his nose until you turn your face, kissing you feverishly. 

You hum involuntarily into his mouth when his tongue decides to poke its way in, hand now feeling you up, tits squished between his fingers.

“Someone’s eager.” You laugh as he forces you to turn around, the hot water beating your back. 

He bites the side of your neck dramatically and you laugh harder, pushing him away playfully – but he pulls you back into his chest, smiling dotingly with you safe between his arms.

“You wanna?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You made a pensive face, pretending to really think about it. “I could be convinced.”

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe.” You smirk as he bites his grinning lips, hands lowering and squeezing your ass harshly. 

“Do you know how hot you looked in your dress tonight?” He continued feeling you up, dick pressed against your thigh, slowly getting harder by the second. “I swear, I was so close to sneaking off to some empty part of the beach and bending you over. Driving me crazy.”

Your hands ran down the rigid muscles on his chest, feeling electric under his burning stare, hot at the thought of him fucking you out of impulse. “Do I make you feel all hot and bothered?” You ask, his stare is so dark. So needy. You lean in only a little, teasing a kiss on his lips, but never truly meeting their plush touch. “Do you start thinking about what you would do to me? Thinking about touching me? Fucking me?” He growls at your words, tilting his face forward to try and steal a kiss. “Show me.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls you even closer to him, frantically showing you his desire for you with a hungry kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and he moves his hands upward and begins pawing at your exposed breasts. The steaming water dripping down your entwined bodies made everything slick, slippery, conditions that caused you both to grip to each other's bodies for security.

You reach a hand down and grab his growing cock, pumping it loosely, trying to get him fully erect. A moan vibrates out of his throat as your movements focus on his sensitive tip, thumbing the slit, feeling him grow and stiffen in the palm of your hand.

You kiss down his neck, then move to whisper to him, sultry as ever. “Am I doing something like this when you fantasize?”

He nods under your spell, eyes drooping in pure lust. “Uh-huh. Just like that.”

Gaining control over him, you waddle your bodies back until his back hits the wall. He shivers at the cold tile in the steamy shower, but forgets all memories of the chill when you kiss down his neck, lowering your body on your knees, hands trailing down so slowly, mouth inches from his swinging member. His hips jut forward and it hits your cheek. You follow it with your mouth, letting it graze your lips in passing. The blinking stare and batting lashes almost drew blood on his lower lip from how hard he bit it. 

“Open up, ange.” Angel, he called you, but you were so sinful. On his knees in front of him. Droplets reflecting off your skin from the harsh light. His eyes felt undeserving of seeing you so ready to praise him. It made him feel so mortal, so lucky. He thanked the higher power that brought you to him, feeling an intense desire to take care of you – tend to your every wish.

You took hold of him with a sure fist, darting your tongue out and licking one long strip from his base to his mushroom head, letting your lips wrap around him and sucking to hear his moan. His face scrunched. His skull lulled into the wall.

You took him in your mouth a little over halfway, moving your mouth in tandem with your hand, enjoying the way his cock nudged against the back of your throat continuously to your rhythm.

“Oui, dieu.” God, yes. He fisted the back of your sopping wet hair, pulling you off of him and forcing you to look up at him. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

You shut your mouth and swallowed harshly. He ran his thumb against your lips, hooking it on your bottom row of teeth, opening you up once more. Your tongue licked the pad of his finger, dipping your hand between your legs and quickly finding your clit. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened. As the moan slipped from your throat, he placed your face directly back to his throbbing cock. Now, he had control of your movements, using your hair as a handle for his intentions, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft in quick movements. You gagged when he began thrusting concurrently to the tempo he stuffed you into his pelvis, heavy heaves and grunts erupting from his chest.

You gargled and gagged on your own spit and moans of pleasure from your own fingers, tasting the salty precum that dripped from your chin as you harshly sucked off your loving husband. You kept your vision from squinting together as you met his eyes through teary eyelashes. He fucked your face like you hadn’t had sex in years, rough with his actions and getting off on the way you were taking it. 

His dick disappeared inside your mouth swiftly and urgently until he couldn't resist. He stopped thrusting, looking deep into your eyes – mouth still stuffed with him. He pushed his hand, demanding you take every inch of him down your open throat. You choked on him, the muffle of your gagging making him see stars.

You hit his thigh after a few seconds and he pulled his hand away. You gasped for air, noticing for the first time how sore your knees were against the hard tile. He let out a long hiss at the loss of your mouth, watching through heavy blinks as you sat against the opposite wall in the small area – knees red and patterned with the lines from the floor. Your chest moved with your big breaths, smiling and commending yourself for the avidity in Kylian’s eyes. 

With your knees pulled to your chest, you slowly opened your legs, fingers playing with yourself as you made a show of how good you were making yourself feel. His pupils dilated at the way you ran your free hand across your thigh then up your chest, pitching a pulling your nipple with your lip tucked between your teeth. 

He whined – a desperate noise that came up naturally. He reached down to touch himself to the sight of you, pumping a slow fist against himself. His long strokes teased his tip until he shuddered, eye contact non-negotiable. You couldn’t look away if you tried. Your swirling moans echoed in the small chamber – his eyes glued to the way your own fingers stretched and spread your pussy. Your own were attentive to the tug at the nape of his base. Though, you both looked up at the same time, hypnotized by your partners mutual ogling. He steps forward, hand still on himself. You reach for his hand and he helps you up, immediately pulling you by the small of your back into his lips, tongue lapping yours, absolutely famished. 

He had clocked the little ledge in the corner from the second he walked into the intimate shower. He put his hand out behind you so the edge wouldn't hurt you, then used his strength to hoist your slippery skin up onto it. He placed himself between your legs, your back pressed to the wall, the shelf only fitting half of your rear — but it was the perfect height for him to fuck you like he wanted to. 

He lined himself up quickly and desperately spreading your pussy wide open for him, pushing in and dragging out. One long moan came straight from your throat, clinging onto his neck to keep yourself in that same position. 

“Fuck.” He grumbled. “You feel so good.” His pace was deadly, tip poking and poking that spot. It made your eyes cross, resting your damp head on the wall. “Been wanting to do this all night. Merde. Les choses que tu me fais, tu me rends fou.” Shit. The things you do to me. You make me fucking crazy.

You moaned in response, too focused on the way his neatly trimmed pelvis rubbed against your clit every time he pushed inside of you. It felt euphoric. Magical. Goddamn perfect. The only words you could muster out made him giggle through his heaves. “Please don’t slip.”

Your arm knocked over a few shampoo bottles when he buried himself deeply inside of you and stopped – making you borderline scream from how deep he actually was, and this position made everything feel… more.

He groaned so loudly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, and you understood why when you felt him cumming inside of you, hot spurts surely dripping out. You didn't notice him biting your forearm until he let go of it, keeping his mouth against you before turning to look into your eyes. A slightly apologetic look turned cocky when one hand reached for your sensitive nub, rubbing just the way you like it, still inside of you.

“Oh, shit…” You breathed, eyes connected to the way he pleased you. “I’m fucking close.”

“Vulgar tonight, are we?” He teased your language, a tired smirk on his face.

“You just…” you begin, but he shuts you up with a small unprecedented thrust. “Fuck!”

He hisses, not really being able to take the overstimulation, but continuing to push into you sporadically – purly for your pleasure. Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to reach your climax. 

He didn’t need the warning upon feeling your legs give out slightly, pressing against you to keep you on the shelf. They started shaking as your eyes closed, a fierce moan exploding from your wet parted lips. He moved his hips with a contorted face until he felt you calm down, now whining and whispering to the touch of his fingers as they slowed down, pressing down harder on you before disappearing altogether. 

You pat his back lazily and he pulled out of you carefully, setting your wobbly legs on the slippery floor. You’d completely forgotten the shower was on as you watched it drain down. Kylian held your waist steadily, both breathing heavy. He lands two gentle taps on your bum. “Let's not waste anymore water, yeah?” 

The vacation, though brief, was absolutely refreshing. It gave time that you and Kylian needed to feel closer. The offseason couldn’t come soon enough. You didn’t have to revolve around his schedule during those weeks because he was just home already. To you, there was nothing better than coming downstairs at 2pm on a Tuesday and seeing Ky there, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, or being able to binge a series with him much quicker because he had time for more than just two episodes. By all means, being married to him shouldn’t be easy, and it’s not necessarily that simple… but it should be way harder. Maybe you were just more patient, but you’re almost certain it has everything to do with him. He made time. He made an effort. He tries his damn hardest. How could you possibly hold that against him?

You didn’t notice the way you were staring at him, chin in the palm of your hand, daydreaming about your entire history with Kylian Mbappé – a man with no time to spare, but he damn well made sure you fit in his schedule. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He grins, setting down his coffee across the table from you in your shared Parisian home. 

You blink, smiling in embarrassment. “No reason.”

You push some eggs around on your plate. He leans forward. “What were you thinking about?”

You shrug at him, still smiling. “Greece.”

His laugh gave away his fondest memory of that trip. “We gotta do that trip again soon, amour.”

“Yeah, like they’d give you that kind of time off twice within two months.”

His head shakes, snickering at that complete impossibility. “I think they’d send me a fee for even asking.” He looks at the time on his phone. “I should probably get going, though.” He gets up and collects his things.

“Drink lots of water today, okay? It’s supposed to get really hot around noon.”

“Yes, dear.” He drones jokingly, smirking as he makes his way over to you, pecking you quickly. “Love you.”

You squeeze his hand quickly. “Love you, too.”

Now, your separate days begin – his a little earlier than yours, but you still just wanted to envelope yourself back inside the covers. You were thinking about calling out sick, which wouldn't be a complete lie. The scrambled eggs were not sitting right this morning, or maybe it was the Thai restaurant you ate at last night. Either way, you couldn’t remember where you put the Pepto-bismol. The empty space in the medicine cabinet left you wondering if Kylian had drunk up the last bit and hadn’t bought a new one yet.

You maintain your breathing steady to keep yourself from throwing up as you shuffle through the drawers. Praying it was in the last one, you pull it open desperately, but only facing three boxes of pregnancy tests. The rush of everything fell still, the air much quieter as you got flashbacks from last year.

You didn’t let yourself think about it much, but you never really got over not getting pregnant. Mentally and emotionally, you were still there. The pain and devastation got easier to mask, but they stayed with you.

It was time you got over it, or at least lost the fear of not being able to have children... the fear of not being able to provide Kylian with a child. If you kept on being bitter about this whole ordeal, you don't know if you'd ever be in the right headspace to try for a baby ever again.

You stare at the tests and shake your head. “Fuck it.” 

You snatch one from the drawer and beeline to the bathroom, peeing on the stick and thinking about how dumb it was that you had let this trivial little test ruin your for months. This time, you wouldn’t feel the dread collect inside your stomach. It would be okay. It wouldn’t hold power over you anymore.

Immediately walking out, you press down on the pedal of the trashcan and you watch it fall into the bin, feeling proud of yourself for not caring about that little plastic stick or what it had to say about your body. You weren't pregnant right now… and that's okay. 

You sigh, a proud feeling swirling with sadness was still progress. 

“Oh, no.” You mumble, feeling your stomach churn and running back toward the toilet, puking horrifically. It was a bad one. Maybe calling out sick was for the best. Who knows, it could be a stomach bug and contagious… but, unfortunately, you felt a lot better afterwards. 

It was probably best if you went to work. There’s a promotion you’ve been chasing and you had just taken those days off for the wedding last month. Trudingly, you got ready to leave the house, rushing a bit since you hadn't realized how late in the morning it was. 

Thank god you went. It was a hectic day; some project deadline wasn’t met and, for some reason, people turned to you for the solution. You were still relatively new at the company, but today, you really felt like you were doing something right. You left the office with a pat on the back from your big boss. That felt amazing. Kickin’ ass and taking names.

You were late coming home, texting Ky to let him know that you wouldn't be there when he got back. He texted back a simple:

Ky: :(

To which you responded with:

You: Bad day?

Ky: Just miss you. You were on my mind a lot today

You frown while walking to your car, wanting to get home quickly and hug him tightly.

You: Baby :( I’m on my way home now. 

You: I have a big kiss just for you <3

The second you walked through the door about half an hour later, Kylian embraced you tightly, taking you by surprise but you easily fell into his arms. You could feel his stress radiating from his body as he followed at your foot around the house. He was quiet in asking if you wanted to take a shower, but his eyes were loud in telling you he just needed to be close to you tonight. 

It was an innocent shower, his silent begging for a back rub and skin-to-skin contact was obvious as he kept his hand warmly on you at all times.

“You okay, hun?” You ask gently, tracing the frown line between his eyebrows after turning the water off.

He nods, eyes sleepy even though it was only eight o'clock at night. “Have you eaten?” He changes the topic, opening the shower door and wrapping you in a towel.

You shrug. “I haven't really been hungry today.” Ever since you threw up this morning, the thought of eating made you grimace. “Did you feel weird after last night's Thai?”

“I felt fine. Why? Is your stomach bothering you?”

You shake your head no as you shuffle through your drawers. “Just a little queasy this morning.”

You both get dressed quickly and lazily, surprised at how early you were deciding to turn in. Kylian was quite a bit needy tonight, pawing and tugging you close to him while he put on Pretty Little Liars… He would deny it to anyone, but he was obsessed with that show. 

“What the hell is she wearing?” He tusks at the screen, apparently not approving of Spencer's outfit for the Prom. 

You giggle into his chest, shaking your head slightly. “I’m gonna go pee.” You pat his bare chest and leave his side, hopping over to the ensuite. 

You wanted to be quick about it, your feet cold from the chilly tile and lack of socks. Kylian had opened a new toothpaste packet and left the empty box on the counter. You roll your eyes. He’s notorious for leaving things that should be trash anywhere but the trash can – an unfortunate side effect of having someone pick up after you as a professional athlete. You bitterly grab the cardboard box and press your foot down on the petal of the trashcan, but freeze when you spot the pregnancy test you took that morning. You wanted to look at it.

Is it worth looking at it? You hadn't even thought about it all day, which is a huge step for you. Only a few months ago, you would have been debilitated at work – and you sure as hell wouldn't have been able to step up like you did. You would have been crying quietly in your cubicle, taking far too many bathroom breaks. 

But… it was winking at you. Calling your name. Taunting you face down in the plastic liner. 

With a gulp and a deep breath in, you shook your head disapprovingly at yourself. It’s gonna be negative, you think, preparing yourself for disappointment as you fish it out of the bin. You gave a deep sigh before letting your eyes trail down to your hand where the thing burned a hole on your skin. 

The gasp that came from your mouth was severe, loud, alarming. 

Two lines. Pregnant. 

“Oh my god.” You mumble, much too quietly for Kylain to hear you behind the closed door. You begin laughing as it settles in what you’re seeing. “Oh my god! Kylian!” You desperately call. “Kylian!”

“What happened?” Kylian shoots out from under the covers and your current brain functions were a little crossed as you gaped at the test. The positive test. “Babe?” He comes into the bathroom with a furrowed and concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You respond with a look he was unfamiliar with. Immediately noticing the tears that had collected on your lash line, he reached for you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, seeing him for the first time as the father of the child inside your stomach. “Kylain.” He had never heard his name come from your lips with as much affection as it did right now.

He gladly took the hug you attacked him with, but the mood inside the bathroom was a little bewildering. 

“What’s going on, amour?” He coos, but you can only sob joyfully into his shoulder, holding the test behind his back as you embrace him – staring at the double lines like it would suddenly turn in one and you'd realize that this was never real. But it was. The results were right there in the palm of your hand. He mistook your cries for sadness, placing an assuring hand on the back of your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was so soft.

“I love you so much.” You smile, pulling back and planting a long, wet kiss on his unexpecting lips. 

He’s so confused. “I love you too…” He raises an eyebrow when your hand meets his, an object placed in his palm. “What is this?” He asks before looking at it.

It takes a second for it to process, and you find yourself wishing you had a photographic memory, wanting to see his first face of realization again and again for the rest of your life. His eyes might as well have fallen out of his head with how wide his eyes went. 

“Wha…” He stutters, completely transfixed on the test. “Is this real?!” He finally looks at you, excitement would be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Of course it is.” You squeak, still clinging onto your husband as you both look at the stick. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” You both take a big breath in, crying simultaneously, absolutely elated. 

Kylian stares at the stick with a squinty and wrinkly smile before he looks at you — eyes tender and grateful. He drops the stick in the sink basin, grabbing your face with his two large hands, forehead pressed to yours to let the moment really register. He kisses you as best he could with the smile that engulfed his features, wrapping you up in his arms, truly holding you. 

“I love you.” He whispers from his chest, an earth shattering smile finding a permanent home on his face. “We’re having a baby.”

A/N: Okay, I don't hate it, but it's not my fav. It's finals in uni and I'm a wee bit preoccupied with those responsibilities. Still though, I think I had some good parts in here! It's mostly just the ending that's bugging me. Also, I know nothing about pregnancies and all that jazz so this is pure Google info so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @footballfeverr @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss @christianpulisic10 @pleasantducktimetravel @forevernightmaree @sachaa-ff @neymarloverxxx @4nn4rchive @lunamelona

[sgiandubh]

The Ascent of Lying

Why, Mordor people? Why do you lie?

Is it stupidity? Hunger Greed for clicks? That #silly, #silly itch to be FIRST? And RIGHT?

The Ascent of Lying started in this fandom with *urv. Her Google sources, her undying obsession for S (and the mandatory hypocrisy that comes along with it), her paltry stories fit for people who never took a flight overseas in their entire life (not something bad at all, but in this context, this makes you incredibly fragile), her remake of the Twilight fandom hullaballoo and her chutzpah.

It continued with Jess, on this side of the fandom: her OTT girlish enthusiasm, her elusiveness IRL and finally, her capitulation and resurrection, under the same name, but with a totally opposed POV. For perhaps you don't know it, but Jess 2.0 has been back since quite a while ago, now making amends about her former strong beliefs. Even taking full responsibility for some 'receipts' (remember the S lemon pin/wedding ring one? she confirmed it was her and it probably was a #silly, horrible lie). How convenient and how depressing, isn't it? Reading her new, sparse blog brought along two firm thoughts: why this need to robotically inform us about her happiness and her change of heart? Also, how many Anons did Jess 2.0 send, since her comeback, to this side of the fandom?

Let this disappointment be my sin, then and let the link to her new hole in the wall remain undisclosed by this page. I have no wish to either start a flaming war, nor give this woman more space than she deserves:

You'll have to deal with the very childish LMAO and this completely irresponsible explanation: 'it was fun to fantasize at the time'. No, lady: you LIED. You lied through your teeth and because you had the privilege of having a thirsty audience, you thoroughly enjoyed this strange avatar of fame, as you say it publicly yourself, now. You even were, most probably, heavily used by ***'s PR and even S (that is a very firm belief), just like another very fragile individual, who switched sides in a far more vocal and pathetic way. That makes for a mixed bag of truths and lies, something I think we all are way too familiar with, by now. But that does not preclude, nor excuse in any shape or form, your eagerness to ahem, 'embellish" a very real love story and twist it according to your naivete and parochial life experience. Morally, you are 0, to me: a sentimental troll, completely on par with *urv.

I could blather on and on about Jess's main competitor, Puffy, too. I think I already wrote enough about her, if only because many believed me to be her latest avatar, which is completely ridiculous, but ridiculous with an agenda. So, did Puffy lie, too? Probably, especially while creating Stella and Deep Throat out of thin air. Let's agree she heavily extrapolated, which is a shame, because some of her analysis is really spot on.

The Ascent of Lying then morphed, along with an US busy social and political agenda being more and more sensitive to the 'fake news" issue, towards the Factchecker Anti blogs, who mimicked neutrality and promoted online stalking to unprecedented levels. Along came people like Meowkabob, who even manufactured their own facts/evidence and released them online. That was perfectly premeditated and done for increased credibility (I have debunked her shite last fall, if you remember), being fully aware that her libel could not be justified only by a prior, questionable, 'London experience', of which we conveniently have no concrete details. The other blog, you all know and sometimes visit: whether she is a PR plant or lonely rider doesn't really matter, yet a stalker and a hypocrite in her own right, too. The fact that both these persons suddenly felt an urge to express themselves during the heavily conspiratorial climate of the first COVID pandemic wave is not innocent at all, I think.

Lying is the real Uncharted Territory of this fandom and one of the main reasons we seldom have nice things to talk about, anymore. I barely scratched its surface and merely stated the obvious. If anything, it only comforted and strengthened my own beliefs, which I always strived to base on personal findings and facts, along with other likeminded people's experience. And I'd rather take the general brunt and simply say 'I don't know", than embellish. Also, when I am wrong, I am wrong: it happens to the best of us and it's always either immediately edited and explained or taken full responsibility for.

What I do know with a reasonable degree of certainty is that These Two are together. And this is all that matters to me, justifying my presence here.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. There's more, but here is just an overview of the sentiments that prompted my next investigation.

[schmergo]

My mom gave me this chocolate London kit for Christmas and I finally decided to use it as sort of a tongue-in-cheek Fourth of July activity. I love my mom and I don’t think she meant to psychologically torture me, but this experience lowkey led me down a true long dark night of the soul and then utterly broke me. Follow my slow mental unraveling below.

I should add that I am bad at crafts and once got gorilla glue all over my hands while fixing a child’s display-only gingerbread house and spent Christmas break with a hard translucent shell on both hands gradually flaking off over the course of a week, so a fair amount of this may be user error. But also the box says this is for ages 6+ and I’m over 5 times that, so maybe they could have done a wee bit more handholding.

Anyway, here’s my journey, which should absolutely be read in the tone of Jonathan Harker’s letters in the beginning of Dracula.

The first hint that something was wrong happened when I melted the chocolate according to instructions and the next step said to pour it into the molds. The chocolate was not really the “pouring” kind. It was a chunky sort of paste that I had to spoon in. The molds filled unevenly and clumpily and at this point, I asked my husband if he’d let me try to assemble the rest of this on my own because I think I can tolerate my failure better if nobody else witnesses it.

The instructions also cavalierly said to save a “handful” to use as mortar for the chocolate tower.

How much is a handful? A Schmergo-sized hand or a husband-sized hand or what? I have very small hands for an adult, but this is for ages 6+ after all. I opted for a Schmergo-sized handful. I would live to regret that.

I chilled the pieces in the fridge for 20 minutes as directed, then popped them out of their mold. To my surprise, they actually didn’t look THAT bad.

Looking at the pieces of Big Ben that I had to assemble, I became acutely aware that there weren’t detailed instructions on how to fit them together other than just “put them together” and no actual photographs of a real person doing it. The wall pieces were still unnervingly floppy and I decided to freeze them in hopes of hardening them while I focused on the clock itself.

In addition to Big Ben, the kit came with a chocolate taxi and a chocolate double-decker bus. The taxi popped out slightly distorted but in a way I liked, with playful Toontown vibes. But the double-decker bus was still mushy and fudgelike, warping and rippling alarmingly as I tried to push it out of the mold. I opted to put it in the freezer, too, along with the walls of Big Ben.

The instructions said to use the melted remaining chocolate to stick the pieces together and to apply it by sticking my finger in it and rubbing it on. It did not mention that, even after letting the chocolate cool, the warm melted chocolate would make the details of the pieces of the chocolate you’re sticking together start to melt, too.

I began to wonder if this kit had ever been formally tested by anyone and if the instructions were written by AI, like that Google search result that suggests adding Elmer’s glue to your shredded cheese when making pizza to keep it from sliding off.

Nothing can prepare you for how bad the clock part looked, so I’m just going to let you deal with it cold turkey. Et voila.

As I cemented my terrible melted clock together, it occurred to me that I’d have a lot more fun if I really leaned into the ominous post-apocalyptic energy of the abomination before me.

What if this was the result of some kind of whimsical Doctor Who villain— or maybe The Unknown from that infamously bad immersive Willy Wonka experience— transforming major London landmarks into chocolate… during a heat wave?

How will will the new Prime Minister Keir Starmer deal with this on his first day in office?

I yelled to my husband in the adjacent room, “Maybe I’m just turning into the Joker, but this is starting to feel more funny than depressing!”

“Mr. Starmer, a second chocolate vehicle has hit Big Ben.”

The bus actually came out pretty well!

Trying to fit together the pieces of the walls would have been maddening if I hadn’t already been driven mad by the clock portion. The pieces didn’t actually fit together quite right, they were still slightly floppy, and the instructions said— after I was in blood stepped so far that should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o’er— that I was supposed to use ELASTIC BANDS to hold together the tower walls while the chocolate was cooling.

The kit didn’t come with elastic bands and I don’t have any in my house except for scrunchies with my gross hair stuck to them, and I’d already come this far, so I decided to forge onward. Then a piece snapped off.

Honestly, this rules, no notes:

I did it, but at what cost? I don’t know much about British politics, but this feels like a poignant commentary on the current state of affairs or something. Should I submit this to the Tate Modern?

[nahoney22]

I’ve been having some terrible stomach pains (recently diagnosed with endometriosis) and it’s kicking my ass! Was hoping you could please do a f!request on how the bad batchers would help reader? Established and non established relationships is fine 😊 thank you in advance if you do this!

Caring for You - Endometriosis***

Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

warnings: Very brief mention of implied sex, female reader with Endometriosis, blood 🩸, mentions of reader feeling low and in pain, established relationships, lots of comfort. 🤍

authors note: here you go darling, sorry to hear this! I couldn’t imagine dealing with this 🙁 hope this gives you all the comfort and cuteness you need. 🤍

Endometriosis definition and symptoms for those not familiar, like myself (thanks google):

It is a long-term condition where tissue similar to the lining of the womb grows in other places, such as the ovaries and fallopian tubes.

The main symptoms of endometriosis are:

pain in your lower tummy or back (pelvic pain) – usually worse during your period

period pain that stops you doing your normal activities

pain during or after sex

pain after using the toilet during your period

feeling sick, constipation, diarrhoea, or blood in your pee during your period

difficulty getting pregnant

You may also have heavy periods.

may sometimes lead to feelings of depression.

Echo 🤍

In the quiet cocoon of your bunk, the persistent ache of your abdomen tightens its grip, creating a throbbing discomfort that feels like an unwelcome guest. You're curled up tight, a subtle wince marking each passing wave of pain. You curse as each throbbing pain feel like your abdomen is having its own battleground, aching and cramping with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

Sensing your silent struggle, Echo delicately places a plush blanket over you, its warmth like a feeble shield against the raging storm inside.

As he settles beside you, his eyes reflect a mixture of empathy and helplessness. He reaches for your hand, his touch alone like a claiming balm.

Soft whispers escape his lips, "I hate to see you in pain." His fingers gently trace soothing patterns on your palm, and you can only mutter a faint ‘thanks’, not feeling up to talking too much.

He helps you sit up as he presents you a steaming cup of caf and when sipping the tea, you feel a momentary respite. But the pain lingers.

Your boyfriend's tender touch on your waist extends to your hair, his fingers stroking away tension as his gaze conveys a profound understanding.

"You're strong," he murmurs, his voice a gentle relief, "and I'm here for you.” You were more than thankful to have Echo by your side..

Hunter 🤍

Finding a place to stay other than the Marauder for the night, Hunter heads to the hotel room he knew you were resting upon when he stops and catches a subtle shift in the air.

Following the trail that leads to your shared room, he finds you on the couch, your face contorted in silent agony and the metallic tang of blood mingles with the room's atmospherea.

Silently, Hunter approaches, his keen eyes discerning the distress etched on your features. With a swift, graceful movement, he pulls you into his lap and then wraps a blanket around you, shielding you from both the physical and emotional chill. His eyes painted a shade of empathetic concern. "How much pain are you in?”

“I feel like death.” You grumble in reply, sweat painting your sickly looking face.

He watches you, whispering soothing words but grows a little panicked when he notices a larger shift in your demeanor, body feeling a little limp. You’ve done this before, clearly feeling faint and doing what he can only do, hold you a little closer and wait for the pain to subside. “You’re going to be okay, doll. I’m here.”

Wrecker 🤍

"Hey, hey, what's up, baby? Are you—oh." Wrecker's eyes, filled with adoration just moments ago, quickly shift to concern as he hovers over you.

Witnessing your gasp of agony, you curl into yourself, abruptly halting the intimate moment. Wrecker sits up, his gentle yet fumbling hands taking hold of you, lifting you from the now blood-stained sheets and guiding you to the refresher.

"I'm sorry, Wreck. I'm sorry—agh!" You cry out, a wave of embarrassment and pain washing over you as your period arrives, accompanied by the sharp ache in your abdomen.

"No need for sorry's," he whispers, placing a soft kiss on your hair. "Have a quick shower, and I'll tidy up back there, okay?" However, he pauses when he notices the sadness in your eyes, cradling your chin gently. "It's okay. I'm here."

As you shower yourself clean, Wrecker quickly puts the sheets in the wash, pulls out all the sanitary products he memorised from when you had this bad spell before and gets out your comfiest nightwear and socks.

Tech 🤍

"Following the laparoscopy results I conducted, I can confirm a diagnosis of endometriosis." He adjusts his goggles and fixes a concerned gaze upon you.

This underlying issue, persistent for a while, found clarity after Tech convinced you to undergo a small operation he performed himself. The confirmation of endometriosis hits you, and tears well up uncontrollably.

Tech flinches at the sudden sound of you sobbing, quickly setting aside his device. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands into his. "Darling, are you in pain?"

The diagnosis stings, and the prospect of enduring agonizing pain every month overwhelms you. Tech sighs softly, "I will be here for you every step of the way."

"I can't do this, Tech. I can't endure this every month," you sob, hiding your face in your hands.

Tech grapples with the feeling of helplessness, acknowledging the absence of a cure. However, a glimmer of hope emerges. "I will do everything in my power to explore treatments, to make this pain tolerable. Whether it's creating a concoction or a device, I won't rest until you are free of pain."

Wiping away your tears, you muster strength through the pain to meet his gaze. "You don't have to do so much for me, Tech," you sniffle. "You've already done so much."

"And I will do a lot more," he says softly, leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. "Whatever it takes."

Crosshair 🤍

"Are you getting out of bed today or not?" Crosshair's gruff voice echoes as he notices you curled up under layers of blankets, facing the wall for hours. He's aware you've been talking to Hunter, so he knows you're awake.

You grunt in response, and Crosshair, assuming laziness, rolls his eyes. "Come on, get up; there's stuff to do." As he yanks the blankets off, his expression changes when he sees splotches of blood on your sheets and pants. You sit up abruptly, yanking the sheets back, tears welling in your eyes.

"Kriff, sorry, kitten," he sighs, sitting on the edge of your bunk. He raises a hand to you, checking your temperature. "Is it happening again?"

"Yeah," you sniff, "and my flow is heavier than usual, as you can tell." You sigh, feeling completely embarrassed.

"Do you not have any pads?" he asks. You're grateful for Crosshair's tenderness, appreciating how he's always been gentle and caring, especially considering your endometriosis, which you initially thought might complicate your relationship.

"I ran out yesterday, so I've just been using tissue," you admit, shaking your head.

Crosshair frowns. "Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"I didn't want to be a problem." The words hang in the air, but Crosshair gently cups your cheek.

"Never will you be a problem. I'm here for you, and so are the others. We can go get some pads."

You manage a soft smile, still feeling and looking completely drained. "We've already left the town. I don't want to tell Tech to turn around just for me. He was dead set on finding a port for outer repairs."

"Leave it with me, princess." After kissing your clammy cheek, Crosshair heads straight into the cockpit. You suppress a laugh as you hear, "Tech, turn this ship around right now."

You knew you were in good hands as long as Crosshair is around.

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness