#blood thinner medicine

[nationallawreview]

Major Changes Coming for Medicare Drug Program: Negotiated Prices, Cap on Out of Pocket and Creditable Coverage

Some major changes are on the way for Medicare beneficiaries regarding drug costs. Due to the Inflation Reduction Act, the federal government now will have the ability to negotiate the prices of drugs for Medicare beneficiaries. After an initial set of negotiations, new lower prices have been announced for 10 expensive drugs. The discounts for some blood thinners and drugs for arthritis, cancer,…

[carolmunson]

always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time. 

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’  ‘And? It’s my meat.’ 

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste. 

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half.  "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides. 

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week. 

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.” 

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down.  “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.” 

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched  ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.” 

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy. 

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts  between statements. 

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?” 

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?” 

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.” 

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?” 

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn. 

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?” 

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo.   “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.” 

thanks for reading. <3

[amphitriteswife]

💛🧡Rejection🧡💛

Tagging: @praisethesuuun @mizz-sea-nymph @nicasdreamer @swallowtail-lotus

I know i made it male reader but feel free to see your oc sunny!😈

Apollo x male! Reader.

Apollo, god of the Sun, one of the 12 olympians and twin brother of the moon goddess herself, Artemis. That’s what he was most known for. Yet many forgot he was so much more than that. For example being the god of medicine, music, boys, knowledge and so much more. He was well loved among the ancient greeks. Often seen as the male beauty. In many of his famous tales Apollo falls in love with a man or woman, yet it always ends badly for them, causing Apollo to have them turned into flowers. Yet despite all the recognition, the glorious tales of him defeating the monster Python… he wasn’t always a saint.

Clutching your bow in one hand, you looked at the boar you just hunted. The boar was usually a symbol or offer to the lady Artemis herself. Once again, failing to have an offer for the god you worship. It was tiring and disappointing. Now it was a waste if you didn’t do anything with the now dead boar. Until the idea hit you that you might offer it to Artemis without entering her temple as only women or her priestesses are allowed to enter in. Walking in the direction of the temple you met one of the priestesses, giving her the boar and turning on your heel to go back to train with your bow, yet you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being followed. It was an uneasy feeling in your gut that told you to keep watching who was behind you. Ignoring the feeling but not the suspicion, you clutched your bow and narrowed your eyes. The sudden sound of leaves rattling made you alert as you quickly raised your bow, pulling out an arrow and aiming at the source of the sound, your hand pulling on the string before firing the arrow without missing a beat.

Steading your breath, you listing closely, hearing the sound of your arrow hitting something followed by a rather loud and dramatic ‘OW’ which made you a bit stunned before you hesitantly walked into the direction of where you shot your arrow. Moving some of the leaves and bushes you could finally see…a naked man in the lake? The sight was honestly a little baffling since most of the warriors were already back at the training camp, and not to mention the light shade of the pink hair which was a unusual color for human hair, walking closer you could see the little red liquid in the pond water, slowly getting thinner the more it stayed in the water. Following the trail of blood you could recognize seeing your own arrow in the right shoulder of the man. The man seemed confused as to why he suddenly got hit by an arrow. Your arrow. Guilt filled your being as you walked closer to the man, wanting to help him stop the bleeding yet when you were about to call him out he pulled out the arrow himself. His hand hovered over the cut before a yellow light surrounded the area where he ws hurt, the wound slowly closing under the dim light.

Suddenly, the man turned behind him. Staring at you wide eyed. He had hazel pupils, something that was rare, yet not unusual. You too stared back at him shocked. Who the hell was this man? Was it a magician? A witch? Should you tell someone? This can’t be real. This cannot be happening. ‘You look like you saw a ghost…well I’m even better.’ The man spoke to you, his hazel eyes focused on you. He had sharp features and a cocky arrogant smirk playing on his thin yet pink lips. He had a nice, lean yet muscular body and his voice was smooth and almost velvety…it made your head a little light and dizzy. ‘Are you feeling alright mortal? Can’t have you passing out on me?’ He told you in a hearty chuckling tone. He was suspicious. He must’ve done something to you. Your vision was a little clouded and your head felt heavy. ‘What have you done to me?’ You asked him placing one hand on your head. Massaging it a little. Your eyes focused on the suspicious man. The man Hmph-ed and scoffed. Closing his eyes, seemingly hurt and offended that he was accused of something like that.

‘I didn’t do anything, you idiot. Who do you take me for? That’s no way to talk your god!’ he said to you, crossing his arms and keeping his head high. How arrogant! And why is he claiming to be a god? That’s disrespectful! Claiming to be a god is highly disrespectful and insulting to your religion. ‘You can’t just claim you’re a god mister. It’s disrespectful.’ You told him carefully which made him scoff at you. ‘I’m no pretender! Seriously who do you take me for! It’s me! Apollo! Your lord! Your sweet, charming, loving, amazing sun god!’ Apollo told you proud fully, his strawberry pink like hair glistening in the waters. But he couldn’t help but chuckle when he looked at your flabbergasted face. His arms reached out to your body and he pulled you in the water with him. His hands on your broad shoulders while he looked you deep into your eyes, his face held a confident smirk and his hands soon began to make its way to your face, cupping it slightly. ‘Keep your god company, won’t you?’ Apollo asked you softly whispering in your ear. The sudden action once again made your head spin.

There was no denying that Apollo was attractive and charming….and seductive. But it was still highly Inappropriate to have something with the god you worship. Would you be allowed to go into the temple again? What if you end up like most of his lovers who have met unfortunate fates? Dying isn’t something you wanted…even if being with your god seemed like a dream. Would it really be a good choice to accept? Is that really what you want? So many questions yet so little answers. It made you dizzy and uncomfortable which cause you to take a fews steps back which made the god stunned. ‘I don’t know if that’s what i want...’ You told him slowly and carefully. You didn’t want to make quick and reckless decisions.. there was too much at stake. ‘I decline. I’m sorry my lord’ You told him carefully but firmly. Even if you loved your god, it was still platonic and admiration. Not romantic love like he hoped.

To not make the situation worse you walked out of the waters, apologized for the arrow and took your leave. Leaving Apollo, even if it was still hard to process in your state of disbelief that it was really him, alone in the waters who was confused himself. Apollo was never rejected by anyone, causing hik to have a stir of mixed emotions. He was hurt that you didn’t feel for him. Yet also angry you had the audacity to reject him. Yet also admiration that you wanted to put yourself first. He himself felt strange, but he was a powerful and confidant being. And rejected won’t a final answer. After all. In Apollo’s myths he never took no for an answer either…

🌻Thank you for reading! 🌻

[mindblowingscience]

About 1.8 million people worldwide are bitten by snakes each year. Of those, up to 138,000 die and another 400,000 end up with permanent scarring and disability. Many cobras have tissue-damaging venoms that can't be treated with current antivenoms. We have discovered that cheap, readily available blood-thinning medications can be repurposed as antidotes for these venoms. Using CRISPR gene-editing technology we learned more about how these venoms attack our cells, and found out that a common class of drugs called heparinoids can protect tissue from the venom. Our research is published today in Science Translational Medicine.

Continue Reading.

[doggirlnarcolepsy]

Help Two Trans Lesbians Recover From a Medical Crisis

Since Tumblr finally deigned to give me this blog back, I'm remaking this post because we still need money, and everything we've just been through these last few weeks has both of us at our wit's end.

You can read the previous posts here and here.

To summarize: My wife and I have struggled to make ends meet for the last couple of months. I've been searching for jobs with no luck.

At the end of July, my wife was hospitalized because she had a double-digit number of blood clots in her legs and lungs that could easily have been lethal if they hadn't been caught early.

We've had to prioritize things she required after being discharged (blood thinners, compression socks, painkillers), which was a massive unexpected blow to our already strained economy and means we haven't had the money to pick up our other medicine (including our hormones) or go shopping for groceries.

Please, we're rapidly running out of food to eat. If anyone is capable of helping, even just by sharing this post, we would both be incredibly grateful.

p*yp*l: @QueenSizedDonger

$0 / $400

[mostmouse]

Nothing but a Tease

You’ve been teasing Cove all day, but it’s not like that’s hard. However, he very much is once you get back to the apartment. He decides to try and give you a taste of your own medicine.

Cove Holden x f!Reader, explicit, 5k words

In the beginning, he could almost believe it was a sly accident. The way you backed up onto him first thing in the morning, claiming you were half asleep. While the both of you were getting ready for the day, how you kept sliding against his back and dragging yourself behind him. Or even when he walked back into the bedroom to grab his watch had also been the exact second you had bent over and dropped your panties.

However, as the day wore on, you were wearing his patience thinner and thinner. Reaching over him to grab something at the restaurant table with friends around, your breast resting on his arm softly. When you had reached down to pat his thigh, not unusual on its own, but how you rubbed your fingers across his leg and higher and higher with every stroke.

It was enough to drive him insane. By the time afternoon rolled around, he felt like he could burst. Walking through the summer crowds on the boardwalk, you’d randomly stop - just to say something to him, really! - and he’d full body run into you just for you to grind your ass against him. Looking at his flushed face, all you’d do is smile up at him like nothing had happened, like you weren’t teasing and testing him all day.

He was never someone who got angry, generally. But the way you were acting had him stewing into the evening. Every accidental touch replaying in the back of his head and making his blood run hot for hours and hours. He had decided very easily that he’d just have to give you what you’d been so obviously asking for all day when the both of you got home.

Once you’d made it back to your apartment, he shoved you against the door as it closed, locking it at the same time. Looking down at you, his ocean eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on your bicep. Dragging you closer so you were chest to chest, he leveled you with a calculating look. His voice was strained as he spoke lowly to you, “Bet you think you’ve been real cute today, haven’t you?”

All you did was smile up at him contently, resting a palm against his chest with a soft giggle, tilting your head a bit, “Hm? I’m always cute, everyday. Don’t you think?” All he did was huff before pressing against you, dragging your arm behind him so he could wrap his around you and hold you flush against him. Leaning down, he bit your bottom lip, tugging it before letting it go. As he pulled away, he gave you a long, lascivious drag up and down your body before stalking down the hallway and into your shared room.

Stifling a giggle, you bit your lips to keep from grinning wide. Not even a moment later, you heard him whistle loudly. Even if it was a rather degrading way to call out to you, and so out of character for your sweet, loving Cove, it had your heart skipping a beat in excitement. Tucking your hands behind your back, you laid back against the door, the thrill of being disobedient lighting a fire in you.

You could imagine him perfectly in your mind, standing in front of the bed, glaring at the sheets as you continuously ignored him. You wondered if he was hard yet. Your Cove had infinite patience for nearly everything, you were the sole person who knew his buttons and exactly how to push them - especially to your advantage.

Cove crinkled his nose in the bedroom, knowing this was all part of the game you’d been playing all day. Part of him was thrilled to bits, his heart racing, but a piece of him felt irritated that now that the day was over, you were purposefully dodging him. It wasn’t often you acted so bratty, and even more uncommon for him to feel like he needed to break you. Taking a deep breath, he traced his teeth with his tongue before stepping out of the bedroom.

There you were, pretty as a picture right where he had left you. He curled his lip as he saw you looking pleased with yourself. He whistled once more, snapping his fingers before pointing at the spot in front of him. When he saw you biting your lip, he practically growled, “Don’t make me come get you.”

You couldn’t help the sly grin that overtook your face, “Oh no! Or what? You gonna make me?” Squealing as he huffed and quickly walked towards you, you darted into the living room, trying to loop around him on the couch. Barely managing to escape his hands, you darted down the hallway into the bedroom, tossing the door closed behind you and diving under the bed, covering your mouth to stop your giggles and loud breathing.

It was only a few seconds before the door slowly creaked open, and you saw Cove’s bare feet padding around on the floor. Idly, you noted to yourself to help him repaint his nails. Keeping yourself silent as possible, aided by the ocean wave white noise machine you always had running, you watched as his feet disappeared behind you.

Hearing the closet door open, it was a few seconds until you heard him close it once more. His steps were completely silent, and you cursed your teenage years of him climbing the side of your house into your room and sneaking around. Eyes widening as you heard his knees popping behind you, you scrambled to escape the way you were facing. However, swift as could be, Cove caught your ankles and dragged you out, listening to you shriek playfully.

Pinning you under him, his knees rested on either side of your hips as his hands were to either side of your head. He smirked down at you, “Is my love gonna be a good girl for me tonight?” Licking your lips, you smiled as you giggled and shook your head. He huffed, frowning slightly before shrugging his shoulders. Sitting up, he grabbed you by the strap of your top, gently hauling you up and to your feet, before turning you around, and shoving you face down onto the bed.

A small ‘oof!’ came from the comforter as he pushed your head down lightly. “Seems you forgot what happens to bad girls. I’ll just have to remind you, I guess.” Letting up on your head, he easily stripped your pants off. Running his hand up and down your back, he unsnapped your bra before pulling away, but not before smacking your ass hard.

He went to the bottom drawer of his nightstand, tugging out a few things. You bit your lip excitedly, not looking up and wanting to be surprised. Hearing him move behind you, he tugged your hair gently, “Stand up.” Choosing to obey, you kept your eyes closed, letting him strip your shirt off of you along with your bra. His hands moved down to your hips, tracing them and squeezing lovingly, before shoving you back down onto the bed, ignoring your surprised squeak. Spanking you before snapping the waistband of your panties, he gripped your hips again and pushed you into a face down ass up position.

Slowly, he dragged your panties down, fingers stroking your skin reverently. Once they were around your knees, you kicked your legs a bit, just to wince as he spanked you again. He sighed softly from behind you, hands gripping your cheeks, “Just couldn’t be my good girl for me, could you?” He paused for a second before kissing your lower back softly, “You asked for this.”

Clenching your fists into the comforter, you waited for him to do something. Hearing him rustle around behind you, you felt him tug your panties off of your legs before spreading them. Once he had you how he wanted you, you heard a snap behind you before cold lubricant slid down your ass and thighs. His fingers were quick to gather it and trace your rim, watching as you shuddered and jerked subtly.

Circling you softly, you heard him groan quietly before he pressed a digit into you. Whining lowly, you relaxed your body and let him deeper into you. He hissed behind you, free hand gripping your hip tightly, “Fuck. That’s it, be a good girl for me. Knew you were my obedient little sweetheart.” You couldn’t do anything but sigh as he gently pumped in and out of you, soon adding the tip of his other finger before stretching you out deliciously.

Whimpering, you flexed your fingers before rocking back subtly, hoping he’d pick up the pace. You were far too easy to read, though, and Cove grabbed your hip and stopped you, “Don’t be in such a hurry, baby. You teased me <i>all day</i>, don’t you think it’s fair for me to give you the same treatment?”

You found it hard to regret your actions for the day, but you really wished he wouldn’t use it against you. He was usually a fast lover with incredible endurance, how could he stand to take it slow? Curling your toes, you tried to enjoy how he felt fingering you without being too impatient.

Focusing on the push and pull of his digits, your body relaxed further, enjoying how full you felt. Just as you were sinking into the mattress, you felt him shove a third finger into you before pumping fast and hard. The sudden change in pace had you bowing forward, jerking your hips away from him just for him to pull them back. “C’mon, this is what you wanted, baby. Take it like a good girl or it’s gonna be worse for you.” You cried out at the feeling, hands pawing at the blanket.

Moving his hand from your hip to just above your shoulder, he knelt on the bed and used your body to propel his fingers deeper into you. You shouted loudly, one hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling uselessly. You kicked your legs in a weak escape attempt, gasping and crying out. Just as quickly, he stopped, keeping his fingers deep inside of you.

Panting for air, your body calmed down before falling face first into the blanket again, chest heaving. Swallowing thickly, you turned your head slightly, looking up at him with a flushed expression. However, he looked completely unbothered, eyes on your hips as rolled his wrist and moved gently inside of you.

Whimpering, you opened your mouth to speak, but he caught you from the corner of his eye, quickly resuming the same brutal pace. Unable to help yourself, you screamed aloud, nails biting into his wrist as you helplessly tried to escape him. Choking out moans, you tried to beg for him to stop, but couldn’t form the words as he shook off your hand and spanked you hard. Though thankfully, he slowed down a bit, voice soft as always as he leaned over you, feeling his clothes against your back. Hushing you, he bit the shell of your ear and tugged on it, “M’gonna pull out, okay?”

Panting quickly, you nodded as he held your hip and pulled his digits free. Though it seemed like only half a second until you felt something velvety pressing into you once more. You whimpered as more cold lubricant covered your rim and the toy, moaning loudly as he eased the plug inside of you. Hissing at the thickest part, it soon popped in and he gave it a teasing tug.

Gently pushing your hips to the side, he watched as you flopped onto the bed, looking up at him with a flushed and sweaty face. He grinned innocently, holding up the remote to the vibrating toy currently slipped inside of you. You whimpered as he started to move away from you, “Stay here. I’m gonna get us some water and a couple of snacks. We’re nowhere near done.”

You shivered at his words, his tone light and airheaded as always. Whistling softly as he sauntered out of the room, you stayed quiet and tried to listen to what he was doing. Waiting in anticipation, you heard the kitchen sink run for a moment, the fridge opening and closing, and him humming softly to himself. You could feel your heartbeat in your belly, awaiting the moment the toy came to life.

However, as Cove walked through the door with ice waters and snacks, he laughed sheepishly as he sat everything down. You held your tongue, worried he’d turn it on high if you about it. He walked casually back to stand behind you, flipping you back to your belly, his hands gripping and spreading your cheeks as he kissed your lower back again. You felt a short buzz inside of you and you jumped.

Cove laughed softly, “Forgot to turn it on. Were you hoping I’d use it on you while I was in the kitchen?” He watched as you nodded with a blush and whimper, and he smiled, “I wanted to, I was clicking the button and everything.” Laughing softly, you shook your head as you rolled your eyes playfully.

Watching as he picked the remote back up, he stroked your thighs lovingly, hearts in his eyes as he admired your body. Smiling bashfully, you reached out for his hand, “I love y- ahh!” You wrenched your hand away to grab the sheets, hips jerking roughly. “C-Cove!” He giggled softly as he played with the remote in his hand.

Standing up to his full height, he dragged his eyes down your body slowly, looking more predatory than infatuated this time. Licking his lips, he tossed the remote onto the bed before stripping his shirt and shorts off, leaving himself in his boxer briefs.

Pawing at himself lazily, he watched as your hips jerked, your strained whimpers still audible even as you pressed your face into the bed sheets. Licking his lips, he reached out for you, dragging his palms over your sides and sliding them up and under you to cup your breasts. Sighing as he squeezed them, he knelt between your legs and began to grind against your ass, hearing you gasp as he moved the base of the plug.

Stuttering his name, you pushed back against him, tensing as he squeezed and pulled your nipples. “This is what you wanted, baby. I’m just giving you what you asked for all day.” You swallowed thickly, shakily nodding your head as you jerked in his hold. Leaning down and kissing between your shoulder blades, he smiled wide, “Good girl! You’re gonna keep being my good girl and taking it all, right?”

As you nodded, you felt a harsh sting across your ass as he spanked you, his hand coming right back up to pinch your nipple, “Use your words. I wanna hear you.” You squealed aloud, assuring him you would take everything and nodding your head as well. He practically purred, biting the back of your shoulder, “Perfect.”

Pulling away, he bit his lip as he watched you wiggle your hips, legs spread too far to rub them together. Leaning over to the nightstand again, he grabbed a small wireless wand. Rolling it in his palm for a moment, he nudged your legs further apart, hearing you whine in protest. Turning it on, he bent back slightly so he could drag his fingers through your soaked cunt, hearing you gasp loudly.

Tugging his hand back, you began begging him to touch you, just to cry out loudly as he pressed the vibrating wand against you. You fisted the sheets, screaming against them as he rubbed it up and down your slit, sliding easily from how wet you were. Reaching up, he grabbed you by your hair, pulling your head back a bit so he could hear you.

Turning the wand up higher, he kept it pressed where it had you screaming the loudest, moving it slowly and only letting go of you when you began to pull the sheets towards you, untucking on corners as you climaxed on the toy. Biting his lip, he kept it against you, watching as you tried to crawl away from him, just for him to grab your thigh and keep you where he could still force you to take it.

You slapped the bed, curling into yourself as you felt yourself cum again, shouting into the sheets. Thankfully, Cove was merciful enough to remove the wand, letting you catch your breath even as the plug rumbled away inside of you still. You whimpered loudly, kicking the leg he didn’t have a death grip on. He watched you closely as aftershocks had your thighs twitching as you laid before him.

Watery eyes looked up at him, and he felt his pulse race, high on how docile and obedient you were being for him after the whole day. Fumbling his hand towards the plug’s remote, he stepped back and turned it up a notch, watching as you flipped onto your back, arching as the vibrations shook you.

Tossing the wand aside, he knelt on the floor and dragged you to the edge of the bed, groaning as you immediately tugged at his sea foam waves, whimpering his name over and over. He paid you no mind, however, just focused on your plush thighs and cunt. Licking his lips, he kissed you softly, moaning tightly before shoving his face against you.

He could feel the plug vibrating against his jaw, but he couldn’t care less as he lapped at you, slipping his tongue inside of you and slowly fucking you with it. You keened at the feeling, pulling his hair once more as he enjoyed himself instead of giving you what you wanted. Wincing as you pulled his hair again, he leaned back and bit your thigh. Hearing you cry out, he kept his ocean eyes on your cunt, “Do it again and I’ll tie you up.”

With that threat, he once again shoved himself against you, moaning languidly at the scent and taste of you. Dragging his tongue up, he flicked your clit lightly before going back to ignoring it. Your hands rested to your sides now, not wanting to be tied up and even more at his mercy. Gripping the sheets, you gasped and arched as he ate you out, the sensations from the plug adding to his lascivious tongue.

Spreading your legs wider, you shifted your hips, desperately wanting him to suck your clit. When he continued to ignore you where you wanted him, you threw your arms up over your head, crying out petulantly, “Cove! Baby, please~” You felt him huff against you before pulling away and standing up.

Whimpering, you grabbed at him as he went to the nightstand, “No! No, baby, please~ I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise!” He ignored you as he rifled around, before pulling out a large ribbon. As he turned back to you, you frowned and looked up at him with the biggest, wettest eyes that you could. To his credit, you watched as he fumbled slightly before blushing and turning his head.

Laughing quietly, you pouted your lips and tried to look even more pathetic. When he reached for you again, he huffed, looking stubborn, “Take your punishment or you’ll get the eye mask, too.” You deflated, shaking your head, and he smiled, “Good. Pull this off if you can’t breath or it gets uncomfortable, okay? Nothing else.” You nodded excitedly, still trying to look demure and submissive in spite of how your heart was pounding.

He rested it against your lips, tying it behind your head and careful not to catch any hair in the knot. It was loose enough you could tug it down easily, but not enough for you to shake it off. Resting back onto the messy sheets, you watched as he got back on his knees. You tensed in anticipation, before arching up high and crying out behind the ribbon, his lips wrapped around your clit and sucking harshly.

You furrowed your brows, whimpering at the rough treatment, but loving it all the same. Twisting your fingers in the loose sheets, you tossed your head to the side, panting heavily as he maintained the torture on your clit. Your thighs shook from where they were spread wide on either side of his shoulders, fighting the urge to trap him between them.

The vibe wasn’t helping, feeling as if it were vibrating the back of your gspot as Cove continuously pleasured you. Popping off of you, he licked and flicked his tongue against you, moaning wantonly as he did so. Above him, you were panting heavily, eyes squeezed shut as you felt your third orgasm building inside of you, body tensing up.

As he went back to sucking and nibbling on your clit, you cried out as you climaxed on his face, your cum soaking his jaw and down his neck a bit. Thankfully, he let go of your clit gently, letting you suck in air as he licked inside of you, cleaning up all the cum he could. You tugged the ribbon to the side, panting heavily as Cove pulled back.

He watched you for a moment until you caught your breath, then he gripped your thighs and tossed you to the side slightly. Once you were repositioned on the bed with him between your legs, he crawled on top of you, ridding himself of his boxer briefs in the process. You blushed as you saw his rosy cock, throbbing as it hung low by his thighs.

You bit your lip under the ribbon, looking back up at him. He was dragging his gaze over your flushed body, skin feeling hot and sweaty to the touch. Reaching between you, he wiggled the plug by the base, watching as you arched your back. Licking his lips, he grinned before grabbing your thick thighs and spreading them wider apart. He watched as you blushed, turning your face into the sheets.

Moving to grip his shaft, he pressed the tip inside of you a bit before pushing inside quickly - not enough to be jarring, but enough for you to feel the burn around him. Your head fell backwards, moaning loudly, hearing him echo you as well. Without giving you a moment, he pulled back and bucked back inside of you. Arching back, you panted as he began a rapid pace, crashing his hips into yours.

Thighs trembling under his palms, you jerked with every thrust, soft body bouncing with each one. Your hands fumbled reaching up to your face, tugging the ribbon down so you could breathe more clearly, panting and crying out. Raising your legs, you tried to wrap them around his waist, just for him to grab them and push them up against his chest before anchoring his heels and bucking into you harder.

Panting loudly, he furrowed his brow, “Fuck, f-feels so good with that vibe, baby. Don’t know how l-long I can last. Ahh-!” Curling forward, he kept his mouth open, gasping and moaning loudly.

You twisted your head to the side, gripping the sheets tightly and moaning hotly. You could see him sweating above you, hair wild and flying around as he moaned with each thrust. Swallowing thickly, you tried to meet his thrusts, focusing on squeezing tightly each time he tried to pull out. With a cry, he quickly devolved into a moaning mess, mouth open as he panted and moaned, eyes trying to focus on yours before throwing his head back and groaning.

Panting, you licked your lips as you looked up at him, “That’s my- ahh! M-My good boy~ fuck! You feel so good, baby~” You watched as he blushed at the praise, hips slamming harder into you, and you couldn’t help but cry out.

His cock pulsed inside of you, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he bucked and grinded against you, the vibrating plug driving him crazy. With a sharp cry, he finished inside of you, your name falling from his lips as he gasped and drooled, pumping you full of cum and vaguely hearing you moan as he blew his load. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out of you quickly, ignoring your whine as he did so.

Using his fingertips, he gathered the cum that had leaked out of you and thrust his digits inside of you. Easily finding your gspot and pounding you fast and hard. Quickly covering your mouth, you screamed loudly, arching your back and squeezing your eyes shut. Cove was relentless, panting above you and pinning you open with one thigh as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn’t hear his praises as you writhed on the bed, the overwhelming pleasure washing over you fast and hard. Unable to stop, you covered his digits in cum, but as he unwaveringly pounded your gspot roughly, you screamed as you squirted onto his palm, cum running down his fingers and dripping onto the bed.

Blindly grabbing for the remote, he turned the plug off, his fingers slowly massaging you through the aftershocks. Gently, he whispered “Gonna pull out, okay, baby?” You nodded slowly, dazed.

Once his hand was free, he grabbed some wet wipes out of the nightstand and slowly cleaned you up. He shushed you lovingly as you jerked in his grip, feeling incredibly sensitive. Tossing the toys into the drawer with the inward promise of cleaning them later, he cleaned himself up before tucking the two of you under the ruined blanket.

Propping himself up against the pillows and wall, he sighed heavily. Grabbing a water, he chugged it before offering you some, helping you hold it as you sipped from it at a snail’s pace.

Finishing up, he relaxed before cuddling you close, holding you with a soft smile, “I love you.” You signed before echoing the sentiment, tossing one heavy thigh over his own.

Burrowing his nose into your hair, he scratched your back lightly, “That wasn’t too much?” You could hear the worry in his voice, and you tried to not laugh.

Picking up your heavy head, you looked at him through blurry eyes, “Depends, was today too much?” You watched as he blushed brightly, a shy smile overtaking his face as he bashfully shook his head. “There you go, then.” The two of you giggled softly, nuzzling in close.

He could feel his eyes droop a bit, sleep creeping up on him. Sliding down, he shuffled you in his arms a bit to big spoon you, waving off your pouty attitude as you voiced wanting to be the big spoon.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he felt you back up and grind against him. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open and he leaned over you, “Seriously?” You smiled, eyes still closed as you wiggled your hips.

Scoffing, he turned to his other side, pouting as you immediately curled around him, your voice soft, “You’re so sweet~ don’t you love being my little baby spoon, Cove?”

Sniffing indignantly, he was about to say no when he felt your hand slip over his hip before gripping the base of his soft cock. Fisting the sheets, he whimpered, “Y-Yes, love being your- baby~” He shivered as you nibbled his neck and shoulder, your fingers brushing over his shaft and circling his tip.

He shuddered, voice thick as he panted softly, “Baby, please~” Bucking as you gripped him again, he squeezed his eyes shut, “You’re insatiable… Fuck, please don’t stop.”

Giggling softly, you licked the shell of his ear, “Wasn’t planning on it, baby~” Biting him gently, you pulled away a bit, “On your back.”

He quickly complied, and you couldn’t help but grin smugly, “My obedient baby boy.” He blushed, nodding. Straddling him the best you could, you both ignored how your thighs trembled. Choosing to give him fleeting kisses across his chest before you ended up collapsing on top of him, you moved down his still sweaty body.

He sighed and moaned and you trailed lower, a hand in your tangled hair following you down. Reaching his half hard cock, you traced your fingers up and down before leaning downwards and kissing his package. Groaning above you, he tossed the blanket more to the side so he could watch you better.

You felt him get harder in your hand as you licked around his base. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him before taking him into your mouth, stroking him with your tongue.

You could feel him getting harder against your tongue, and you couldn’t help but moan hotly around his shaft. He trembled above you, free hand over his face as he whimpered, feeling incredibly sensitive.

He pet your hair, voice weak and shaking, “W-W-Won’t last l-long, m’sorry, baby.” You hummed softly, taking your time as you took him deeper and deeper, languidly stroking him with your tongue and hands.

Combing his fingers through his very sweaty hair, he made the mistake of watching you suck him off. His body tensing at the sight, whimpering as he bucked his hips. Apologizing as he watched you choke for a split second, he quickly devolved into whispered cries and you sucked tighter, dipping lower.

He was fully hard in your mouth now, and as you felt him pulse on your tongue, you knew he really was almost close to his orgasm. Popping off of him, you licked from base to tip, moaning wantonly before wrapping your lips back around him again.

Jerking his leg, he cried out again, watching your lips as he panted heavily. “Baby~ fuck, g-gonna cum- ahhh!” He curled forward slightly as you sucked him tightly, slowly dragging your mouth to his tip, blowing his load into your throat. He shook gently, moaning loudly as you continued to work him through it.

Tightening his fist in your hair, he stopped you, “Right there, fuck! H-Harder, please!~” You kept your lips around him, dragging the flat of your tongue firmly along his underside. Cum spilled from past your lips, slowly trailing down his cock.

With a final moan, he collapsed against the bed, thighs quaking as you popped off of him. Licking your lips, you grabbed another wet wipe from the nightstand drawer, doing a cursory clean up before tossing it to the floor without a care in the world.

Grabbing the blanket, you quickly slotted yourself tight against his side, head on his chest. You sighed happily, feeling the tiredness from the night finally sink into your bones. Giving Cove a kiss on his chest, you snuggled close as you listened to him pant and whisper how much he loved you.

[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark

Type: series

Part: 3/?

Other parts here

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron sister reader

Summary: That was not expected.

Four guards open my cell yet again and unshackle me, roughly grabbing me. one stands in front of us, one behind, and one holding each arm. I struggle in the males grips, my clothes are ripped to shreds, my hair is so matted you couldn’t brush it, blood and dirt cake my skin from various cuts and bruises and I’m thin, much thinner than I was, but I’d made sure to keep whatever muscle I could. As I’m brought to the so-called ‘king’s’ room, I notice Elain and Nesta, both are a bit thinner, then again they always were and more pale but I was glad to see they had very minimal damage other than Nesta matted hair. I look around the room as I’m pulled forward and completely freeze when I see it…them.

Feyre and Azriel…with a bolt through his chest… I’m shoved to the ground and take this as my moment, twisting around and kicking one of the guards in the shins, then sweeping another’s legs from under him, grabbing the sword one dropped and stabbing it through one of the others abdomen, then. Finally, I tackle the other to the ground, the blade lodging in his skull. I stand up, my breath fast and shallow and turn, looking from Nesta and Elain to Feyre and her friends, then finally my gaze lands on Hybern, who’s slowly applauding.

“That was quite the show darling.” I almost vomit at the way the last word rolls from his mouth, the only other times he’d used it were when- god I can’t even think about it as I make my way in front of my human sisters. I know the fae can handle themselves, my only concern about them is Azriel who is uncharacteristically pale, and hold the sword in front of me, my arm latching around them. “Start with her.” Before I know what’s happening four men pick me up, snapping the wrist that holds the sword and im forced to drop it.

“Get off me!” I scream and claw with my good hand as I’m brought up the stairs and forced into the cauldron, my head pops up until it’s held under. The sensation is weird… to say the least.

It’s cold yet hot, agonizing yet peaceful, it brings sadness and joy, light and dark, life and death, before I can think anymore wise opposites I’m thrown to the floor, an unknown weight sitting on my back as I splutter, lifting my head and seeing shocked faces. What- My thought is cut off by the sound of a thump and Nesta is thrown beside me, then Elain. I notice it now, they’re different- they have pointed ears, limbs longer- They are fae. What the hell?

I slowly stand on shaky feet, stomach cramping and nearly falling to my back just before I see Hyberm raising his hand and instinctively I do just as Cassian does-I jump. I throw myself over my newly fae sisters and white hot agony flows over the unknown weight on my back and I don’t even realize I’m screaming till it’s all over and I collapse to the side.

I look over to check on my sister when I see it-them. Wings, wings attached to my body that are shredded beyond belief, blood pooling around them. Wings- no I couldn’t-I couldn’t have wings. I hear people shouting my name and a cold sensation envelopes me before it all goes dark.

I groan as I’m jostled before I’m placed in a cot, back up, wings. Wings-holy shit. Draping over the edges, i loom to my right to see Azriel and Cassian in the cots beside me and a voice-a voice I’ve fantasized about yells for me, over and over, begging me to stay awake but it’s just too hard so I close my eyes and peace washes over me finally.

————

I know it’s short but I took medicine to sleep so I can’t write more tonight. I’ll give you more tomorrow. Love y’all!

@wallacewillow0773638

@pinksmellslikelove

@sassybluebird

@gorlillaglue25

@khaleesihavilliard

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - you have so much

TW: mentions of not eating, thoughts of death, self inflicted injuries

Sitting in the middle of your cell, you hand your hands resting on your knees, listening to the door was it was opened.

You felt some bread hit you in the head but you didn’t both to open your eyes, you simply just sat there which math man laugh.

“Seriously? You’re still doing this? Fucking pathetic.”

You said nothing and he laughed again.

“Keep going, you’re gonna die in here, gonna turn, then we’re gonna set you on your friends so you can fucking kill them all.”

The cell door was slammed shut, and you stayed exactly where you were.

They brought you food at the same time every day, so you knew the routine, you had been here for a week.

You were hungry, you were so hungry, but you didn’t eat a single thing they gave you.

You could hear them talking outside, saying Negan will be pissed when he find out how they’re treating you, and that nearly made you scoff.

You were weak, you had the start of a fever, you going to die in a matter of time without food and medicine, and you didn’t care.

“Then we just kill her before he gets here, say she was bit on the way in or something.”

You took a small breath, shuffling back so you could rest your back on the cold wall behind you, helping to relieve how hot you were feeling.

You listened to them argue, and you slumped to the side a little, you couldn’t keep holding yourself like you had been doing.

So you moved to the corner, but you stayed sat up, resting your head on the wall next to you, taking small, shallow breaths.

You must have fell asleep like that, because what woke you up was the sound of people in the hallways, all arguing and shouting.

You slowly opened your eyes, seeing your cell door still shut, and you closed them again.

You heard Negan’s whistle, you’d recognise it anywhere, it was the last thing you heard before you were knocked out and brought to their sanctuary.

You weren’t going to tell them anything they wanted, you weren’t going to tell them anything about the place you now called home, about your family and friends.

You raised your head, hitting it on the wall next to you slightly, and you raised it again to do the same thing.

They couldn’t force information out of you if you were unconscious, or more likely in your state, dead.

You kept going, despite how painful it was and the fact your body was trembling, you felt a small cut open your head, and when you hit it again you felt it open more

You couldn’t make out the sounds of the talking outside, but you stopped when you heard the lock to your cell click.

“Now, let’s see if our little guest has any words of advice for us.” Negan smirked.

He swung the door open, the lights making you turn your head, eyes screwed shut at how bright it was.

Negan chuckled a little, tapping his bat against the metal door a few times.

“Now, it’s rude not to look at your host sweetheart. I’m the one who’s looking after you, you know that.”

You slowly turned your head to him, opening your eyes to stare into his.

Your half dead eyes boring into shocked and angry eyes as he stared right back, taking in your sickly form.

You were covered in sweat, you were pale, dark circles under your eyes, and if it were possible in the last week he had seen you, you looked thinner.

He saw the blood on the side of your head, and he watched it drip on to your shirt, then flicked his gaze to the wall next to you, the still wet blood running down it.

You took a shaky breath.

“Looks like… you lose…” you rasped out.

Negan turned around to stare at his men who all subconsciously shuffled back from the sheer look of rage on his face.

“Who the fuck let this happen?” He asked lowly.

There was silence and he slammed Lucille into the door, creating a loud echo.

“WHO DID THIS?!” He shouted.

Nobody dared to answer him, and he began to pace a step back and forth.

“If I don’t get answers I’m going to bashing heads into the ground, I don’t give a fuck if you did it or not, every minute I wait a new skull is getting mashed into shit.”

You laughed weakly, causing him to look at you, and you coughed a little.

“It.. doesn’t matter…”

“It does fucking matter, who the fuck was the one who was supposed to be looking after you?” He snapped.

You closed your eyes taking a few ragged breaths before looking at him again.

All you did was offer him a shrug.

You were going to buy yourself as much time as possible, and when he turned around again, you hit your head on the wall.

“Times up!”

Negan raised his his bat, there was a chorus of screams and finally someone was pushed to their knees in front of him.

He looked down at the man who was begging for Negan to spare his life.

“Did you let this happen?”

“I thought you wouldn’t give a shit! It’s just Ricks sister!”

Negan raised his foot, boot colliding with the face of the man, sending him flying to the ground.

“Get this fucking prick downstairs, I’ll be down to make an example of him as to WHY WE FOLLOW THE FUCKING RULES!”

Everybody scrambled away while two grabbed the man to drag him away.

Negan grabbed hold of one of the workers and shoved them the opposite way they were running.

“Tell the doc to get ready.”

With that Negan turned to you, and you raised your head, he took a step forward.

“Don’t..”

“You don’t get a say.”

He set Lucille on the ground next to you, and he crouched down, placing his hand between your head and the wall as you went to hit it again.

“Fuck!” He hissed.

Pulling his hand away, he shook it a few times to try and ease the pain.

Negan grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet and he picked up his bat, walking you from your cell, or more, dragging you from it.

You couldn’t walk, and the sudden movement made you go light headed, and you fell to the floor with a head thud.

“Oh fuck! Fucking hell!”

He looked around.

“Follow me!”

He shoved Lucille into the hands of Simon, and Negan put his arm under your neck, the other under your knees as he hauled you up.

You braced your hand on his chest, and weakly pushed yourself, the sudden shift in your weight causing him to stumble, but he didn’t fall.

Negan tightened his grip around you and glanced down as he carried on running through the halls.

“Sorry sweetheart, you don’t get a free pass that easily.”

You tried to think of another way, your vision pulsating, and you could only think of one sure way.

Bringing your head to the side, you opened your mouth and dug your teeth into the exposed skin of his wrist.

“Fucking hell! Were you raised by fucking animals!? Holy shit!”

Negan rushed you into the infirmary and he set you on the bed, pushing your head back so you would let go and you did.

“Shit! What the fuck?!”

“What happened?!” Carson asked.

“She fucking bit me!”

Carson rushed over to his boss and he was shivered away, a hand placed on the back of his neck as he was led over to you.

“She isn’t dead, she’s alive, and you’re going to do everything to fucking keep her that way, if you don’t then you better be wearing your pissing pants, because you’ll be needing them…” Negan sneered.

While the doctor tried to look after you, Negan began to gathered everything he needed to tend to his new wound.

Carson was trying to put an IV in you, but you kept fighting it, grabbing the doctors hand you dug your fingers into his skin, making his drop it to the floor.

“I.. I need a new needle.” Carson said.

Negan grabbed one, slamming it on the table.

You locked eyes with Negan, breath trembling.

“I’ll be dead.. by the.. end of the day…” you sneered.

“You wanna bet on that? I’ll be fucked if I’m letting you die that easily. Simon grab her arm.”

Negan walked over, he trapped your other arm under him, using his arm he placed it on your collarbone, keeping you down, his other hand on your forehead, making sure to stay clear of your mouth this time.

He avoided the head wound you had as well, and he leant up so he could look at you.

“Stop.” He said quietly.

You were breathing deeply, jaw clenched as you tried so hard in your weak state to break free.

“Fucking hell (Y/N) we’re trying to keep you alive, stop!”

You locked eyes with him, and you slowly stopped fighting, your eyes closing but you tried to fight it.

“A sedative, it’ll wear off in a while.” Carson said.

Simon and Negan moved from you, Negan took his Lucille back, sending his friend away and he stood next to you, watching the anxious doctor work.

Carson hung a bag up, and he moved to clean your head and stitch it up.

“You better hope she makes it doc, your very life is depending on it.” Negan warned.

Carson glanced up, before turning his attention to you.

“She has a minor infection, some antibiotics will clear it up, and fight the infection before it gets to her head injury, she’s dehydrated, and she will need to eat something soon.”

The doctor stood up, and Negan looked at the bag.

“It’s one I made, it should get the antibiotics and some fluids back into her system, how did this happen?”

Negan said nothing and Carson quickly nodded his head, knowing it was better than to ask his question again.

When you woke up, it took a few minutes to realise that you weren’t in the infirmary anymore, you were on a bed.

You turned your head, groaning a little in pain, but it didn’t stop you from sitting up.

You didn’t recognise the room, you didn’t know how long it had been, but there was a glass of water on the table next to you.

You ignored it, hand reaching up to your head to find a bandage around it.

Glancing around the room to make sure that you were alone, you slowly began to unwrap it, tossing it aside, and you ran your fingers along the stitches.

Finding the first one, you began to try find a way to undo it, blood trickling down your face as you breathed through the pain.

The door was opened and closed, Negan walked in, setting Lucille down on a chair, not seeing thay you were awake, and he set some food down on the table.

You carried on what you were, trying to find a good angle or grip.

Negan froze, and he spun around, marching over he grabbed your wrist, pulling it from your head.

“Stop, now.” He warned.

You grabbed his wrist, trying to bite him again and he grabbed both your wrists in his hand, placing his hand on your head to stop you.

“Seriously?! Who the fuck bites people?! I’m trying to save your life! Stop trying to fucking bite me! If you’re going to bite me at least do it in the fun kind of way!”

You stopped, looking at him and he smirked a little.

“Yeah, that made you stop didn’t if.”

“Pig…”

He shrugged a little, taking his bandanna off and he placed it gently against your wound, picking up the bandage you had discarded.

“It made you stop didn’t it? I’d say that’s a win. Now, sit still.”

You tried to move away and he gave you a warning look, making you stop.

Negan wrapped your head up again, and he handed you the glass of water.

“Drink it.”

You set it back down.

Sighing, Negan picked it up, taking a drink from one side, and handed you the glass back.

“It’s just water, that’s it.”

You smacked the glass out of his hand and it crashed to the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You need to drink, and eat if you want to keep on breathing, don’t you understand that?!” He hissed.

He walked over to the table, picking up the food and set it in your lap while he began to clean up the water you had thrown.

You didn’t want to waste food, so instead you just set it where the water was.

Negan noticed this and he sighed.

“It wasn’t my intention for you to get hurt in anyway. You weren’t supposed to be put in that cell, and the fuckwit that put you in there had now joined our lovely team of walkers out the front.”

You rested your back on the headboard.

“If you’re… going to kill me… just do it…”

“I just spent all that effort and those resources to save you, why would I kill you now? I gain nothing from that except your very pissed brother storming my sanctuary.”

You turned away from him as he set the food back down in front of you.

“Seriously? What is this a strike? Eat.”

You turned your head a little further away so you didn’t even have to look at the food.

“Fine.”

Negan left it there leaving the room.

The theory was that maybe you would eat without him around, but you didn’t. Or if you did he didn’t notice anything missing.

He tried the harsh approach, the just seeing how you did approach, the trying to force you to eat approach which worked for a few days until you had enough strength to punch him in the jaw before you stopped again. He had tried to engage you in conversations, which sometimes you’d take part in, he tried to engage you in card games or even just a walk around the halls.

You would take part as long as it didn’t involve him trying to help you in any other way, if it was just company you’d take it, but that was it.

Now he was trying another, he brought your food in, and he sat on the chair next to the bed, setting the food in your lap.

You didn’t even look at it, you just sat there.

“Look, just tell me what I’m doing wrong here. Do you not like the food? Do you need me to leave while you eat? What? What do you want? Because I’m running out of ideas here, and I can’t exactly return you to Rick the prick in this state, so you’re stuck with my ass until you’re healthy.”

You looked at him.

“What do you want from me sweetheart?”

Negan watched you, the way you refused food or water, the way you were so determined to hit you head and take your stitches out.

These weren’t the tactics of somebody who was trying to survive.

“Just kill me…”

Negan swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Do you wanna die?” He asked quietly.

“Yes…”

“Why?”

You looked away.

“Why do I need a reason?”

“Tell me why.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Because I can’t do it myself…”

Negan slowly nodded his head.

“This why you’re doing all this? So I get pissed off and kill you?”

You nodded.

“You tried this before?”

“Rick, Michonne… they took all my weapons, won’t let me go anywhere without someone there… I even tried to walk into a herd of walkers…”

Negan got up, taking the food from you, setting it aside and he sat on the edge of the bed.

He tried to get a better look at you but you wouldn’t let him.

“Why the fuck would you want to do that?” He asked.

Despite his swearing, the tone was gentle, soft, it sounded like he was actually worried about you.

“Because what’s the point? We’re all going to become one of those things some how, at least I’d have control over my death. I have nothing anymore, Rick isn’t even my biological brother, he just feels guilty he killed Shane, so I have nothing.”

You turned your head, contacting eyes with him.

“So do it. Kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

Negan took the food, setting it back in your lap, and he took some from the plate to eat, just like all the other times he brought you food.

“You said you had nothin’ but that’s not true, you do, they’re all waiting for you to go back, demand for you to go back. I’d say that’s something.”

Negan picked up the fork, and he held it out to you with a little grin.

“Come on, it’s good shit.”

He took the fork back, putting some food on it and he held it up and you took it.

“I can feed myself..”

“Yeah, because that’s gone well huh?”

You glared a little and ate some of the food, and you turned the plate, gesturing to whatever you just ate to him and tried something else.

Negan got another food, eating the part of your meal you didn’t like, he didn’t say anything in case you stopped.

“You ever gonna take me back?”

“When you’re healthy enough.”

You nodded, glancing at him before looking away.

“You got any apples?”

He chuckled, sitting up to grab his walkie, asking someone to bring him a bowl of apples to the room and he set it back down.

“Whatever you want you just ask, I’ll have that shit here in no time.”

[seungsuki]

another life - time will always be an enemy (gn!reader)

warning: mention of death

note: i actually cried when i wrote this

your head lay comfortably on the lap of your blonde-haired husband, louis james moriarty. his warm fingers threaded through your hair making your heart melt. the gentle rise and fall of his chest shielded you from the agonizing fate dealt with. your eyes softened as the sight of louis holding back his tears. each drop acted as a testimony to portray his sorrowful heart. they painted your once rosy cheeks he adorned. you weakly reached out to caress his tear-streaked face, hoping to soothe his aching heart

it all started with a fever. none of you thought of it too much due to the season’s cold winds. a mere inconvenience, you described, the moriarty family was your pillar of support throughout your cold. diligent william took it upon himself to cover for your classes, while albert insisted that louis stay by your side, nursing you back to health.

the fever subsided, yet your strained voice released painful coughs. betraying your mere whispers, you suffered.  louis noticed how you grew thinner, your bubbly personality was now a faint memory replaying. confined to your bed, you had plenty of time to daydream about anything. louis became your patient listener to your rambles about anything that came into your mind whether it was about how whales sleep to what you wanted to eat when you got better 

except, you never seem to be getting better. the medicines came to no use when they were supposed to be the anchor of hope. at one point, you awoke the entire house with your cough being worse than before. you couldn’t breathe as louis got off the bed and crouched down in front of you. you covered your mouth to not wake anyone up but that came to no use. your stifle coughs echoed through the house, a signal of your despair

you heard a small knock and from the corner of your eye, the door swung open. it seemed everyone was woken up with a concerned reaction following. you wanted to reassure them, to tell them you were fine, but as you removed your hands away from your face, horror shook your body. blood stained your pale palms, a hideous confirmation of your worst fears.

you couldn’t hide it from louis. he smelt the rust-iron clinging on your fingers. he looked to his brother and you swore you could see a glint of fear in his eyes. immediately, a doctor was summoned but like the others before, he offered false hope- medicine 

this went on and on. days turned into weeks, each one disheartened the family. you met doctor after doctor and each time you were prescribed a new problem. the list grew along with louis’s frustration and sorrow. his mind couldn’t understand why you weren’t getting better. he’d done everything he could yet you were still the same 

nothing could soothe the blonde man’s heart as he gently pushed the strands of your hair away from your face. he could feel you dying and there was nothing he could do about it. even the best of the best doctors couldn’t save your life. you were just a pretty bird in a cage. your life was only as colourful as your health decides to make

the room was clouded with the smell of medicines and creams you used but what made his stomach churn was the heavy ominous odour—the smell of approaching death. louis had asked his brothers to take the time off his duties. now he sits with you resting your head on his lap every day, spending what it seems to be, your last few days. 

you looked up to your teary lover with a sad smile. you’re sorry you couldn’t be with him anymore. all those dreams you both shared, shattered before your very eyes. louis knew your time was coming soon. you didn’t feel like eating anymore. you just wanted to lie down and listen to him read stories. you didn’t even have the energy to tell him how much you’ll miss him 

the bright smiles and genuine laughs were all gone. now the only thing that could be heard was silence. the ticking clock was only acting as a reminder of how much time you both have left. your lips feel sticky but you slowly move your lips in hopes louis understands your words 

“i’m sorry i can't stay with you, love”

and then, you were gone. your eyes peacefully fluttered and you took your last breath into your eternal slumber. darkness clouded your vision and the last thing you saw was your dear husband. the afternoon sun bathed the room in a golden glow as your consciousness faded.

to louis, you appeared timeless, a serene beauty bathed in sunlight. for the first time, in what felt like an eternity, he saw a smile. not your usual sad smile, but the long-gone smile he always wanted to see again. the one he thought he had lost forever. his shaky hands cradled your face to feel you one last time, yearning to etch this final memory into his soul.

“i will find you again in another life... we will get our happy ending”

he reached out to hold your hand. he gently took off your wedding ring, almost like you would shatter if he wasn’t careful. he held it firmly in his hand before clasping his free hand with yours. he brought your lifeless hand near him and gave his last kiss. a habit he developed whenever you left for work 

“rest well my love” 

his voice cracked and he finally allowed himself to cry. for the first time, louis felt alone. his body shuddered and relaxation had taken over him. he cried louder and louder, each sob tortured his heart with a mournful symphony of loss. he felt hollow, a shell forever engulfed by the empty void he created for himself, louis james moriarty. 

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator.

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Stand By Me

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader, platonic Jamie involved in one bit.

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning(s); general angst, the reader has an auto immune disease called lupus, one mention of blood, sorta-kinda-maybe smut if you squint.. but like.. not really.

I did some research, but because I didn’t want to cross any boundaries and be too wrong, I didn’t go into much depth over anything. I listened to too much Billy Joel while writing this. I’ve decided Billy Joel love ballads go well with Trev.

—————————————

Trevor Zegras as the world knew him:

The aggressive, egotistical, hotshot hockey player. Rough and tumble, always mouthy. The loud, constantly moving, big expressions and huge personality kind of guy.

Trevor as I knew him:

A kind, gentle, considerate boy. Who made sure he set my pill organizer out for me every morning before he went to practice. Who made sure we were always stocked up on prescribed lotions and ice packs. And would spring up from the couch at the first sign of a fever. And learned how to cook on nights when I was in so much pain I could hardly move.

It took forever to get officially diagnosed with lupus. Trevor had been there from the beginning, when symptoms first began. At first, we hadn’t thought much of it. I passed off body aches for period or ovulation issues. I assumed the rashes were allergic reactions, and the fevers were just random waves of California heat. We had been oblivious. When things got worse, I began seeing a doctor.

Test after test had been run through. I was prescribed various medications, some of which helped and others didn’t. But the ones that did help, never lasted long. Eventually, it got to the point that Trevor feared leaving me home alone. Especially on the days he would wake up, and I would be unable to pull myself out of bed. I hated it. He hated it. We feared the unknown.

As much as it overwhelmed me, I knew it overwhelmed Trevor too. All the road trips, calling me, feeling horrible for leaving and saying how he wanted me to call somebody at home if I needed them. He was scared, but it was knowing he wasn’t in control that freaked him out. I assumed that’s why he became so observant and vigilant when we finally did get a diagnosis. Because at last, he could control things. Not everything, but some things.

Trevor hadn’t been home the day I got the diagnosis from my doctor, but it gave me time to really figure things out on my own. I knew little about the autoimmune disease, and as much as I loved Trevor, I knew his endless questions would only overwhelm me more than this new information already did. So I did my own research, allowed myself time to process and cry. Come to terms, and eventually begin working on a game plan for myself.

When Trevor did come home, it was a process of sitting him down on the couch and talking him through it all with everything organized on my laptop. Trevor tried so hard to understand, but I knew it would be a lot of trial and visual learning for him. And I had been right.

“So.. so, this is what you have?” He pointed to the computer screen. I nodded. “And.. it’s permanent?”

“Yeah, babe.” Trevor nodded. He tried to understand. What did autoimmune mean? What was Lupus? Why did it have to have so many big words attached to it?

“So.. where does all the treatment start?”

“Do you have to take medicines?”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“We can still be together, right?”

“This is a lot.”

I answered most of the questions, at least the ones I knew answers to. The others I promised to answer when I knew what to say.

Trevor got so tense with himself when he was home. We used to be a pretty rambunctious couple, but after I got prescribed blood thinners, and the body aches got worse, a lot of that changed. Trevor became far more timid around me, and at first he was as gentle as a toddler when touching a newborn baby. I helped set the pace for what was okay and what wasn’t.

“T, lemme see that ribbon.” I reached across the living room floor. I tried to snatch up the red ribbon before his hand flew out to take it.

“Let me curl the ribbon.” Something I had always done during Christmases. But it involved open scissors.

“Trevor, it’s fine…”

“Yeah but.. what if you cut yourself? Just teach me how to do it.”

Outside and inside of the bedroom, we set paces together.

“Should I- maybe…” Trevor shifted, causing me to groan. Worst time to ask questions is when you’re already in somebody.

“Trevor.. you don’t have to be so gentle.” I reached up to rest a hand on his forearm. “Why don’t I take the lead this time?” He relented and turned us over. He feared hurting me even when he didn’t do much.

“I’ll be fine, okay? Just pay attention. I promise I’ll tell you if it ever hurts, or if something is wrong.”

I’d always told Trevor that he did extremely well, but he wasn’t perfect. I didn’t expect him to be. And accidents happened.

“Babe?” Sometimes the rashes simply broke out over night.

“Trevor, Shh.” I tried to roll away from him, but when his fingers ghosted over the irritated skin on my face, I gasped at the feeling.

“Fuck- T!” I scolded, my eyes opened immediately.

He hated when he felt like he messed up. I hated when I scolded him for things he didn’t mean to do.

“…I told Jamie you weren’t feeling good anyway, so he went out without us.” Trevor had been rambling for a while, both of us in the bathroom doing our own thing. He was busy grabbing an extra roll of paper towels from the cabinet under the sink. I was trying to brush my teeth. I attempted to step out of the way when Trevor harshly pushed the cabinet door shut, but the corner skinned my calf anyway. I gasped, and managed to choke on toothpaste in the process.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” Trevor was frantic all evening over my leg, apologizing over and over. After we got the arguably minimal amount of bleeding to stop, he still peeled back the bandages every so often to make sure everything was okay. I had to tell Trevor we were wasting bandaids.

The days when I felt absolutely disgusted with myself were the worst. I hadn’t lost all my hair, but it certainly thinned. And I hated looking in mirrors when my rashes got so bad that my skin would crack and bleed. Showers became hell. Trevor started to take them with me more often.

“It’s okay, baby.” He ran his hands through my hair, never commenting on the tiny strands that would remain on his hands long after he pulled them away. I stood tucked into his chest, arms folded up between us, fully enveloped by him.

My flawless boyfriend.

“I know it irritates.” Washing my body was the hardest on days when the rashes were all over. The dry skin never took well to the water, even if it provided a momentary relief.

There were days Trevor wouldn’t even bother with a washcloth. He would put the body wash on his hands and run them over my body from top to bottom. It made me cry. I would never understand how one emotion caused him to completely shift his personality around me.

Love was a powerful feeling, I suppose.

Love turned Trevor from a rambunctious loud, abrasive guy. Into a completely devoted and caring man. A gentle, expressive, and considerate man.

“We’re almost done,” he whispered as he ran his hands down my legs, kissing the patchy skin on my calves and ankles. I found the rashes were always the worst on my ankles after I wore shoes for long periods of time. The tongues of said shoes always rubbed my skin uncomfortably. I had to buy longer socks to help with that.

After Trevor finished lathering my body in wash, he’d trail his hands back up and all over. Sometimes I was lucky enough to sit on the lip of the tub while he shaved my legs. Times when my body hurt too bad to stand very long, or even bend over, he offered to help. Those moments he often found it easiest to make jokes and cheer me up.

“Haven’t mowed the lawn in a long time, eh?” He mumbled with a cheeky grin as he knelt in front of me, pulling my foot up onto his thigh while the other hand reached for my shaving cream. I giggled and ruffled his wet hair. Sometimes I found his comments embarrassing, but he was a guy. He was bound to find the weirdest statements amusing.

“I love you so much, T.” I whispered while his nose was scrunched and his brow was furrowed, face inches from my knee as he tried hard not to cut it with the razor. Hands that used to pinch and gently smack me when he was teasing or play fighting. Hands that used to throw me around like a rag doll after I challenged him to a wrestling match, now so light and tender. Like I was fine china.

Trevor also learned that dab-drying worked better for my skin than rubbing the towel all over my body after showers. It got the job of drying done, but it was far easier on my body.

I loved the tactic, but what I loved even more was the little sounds he’d make while he did it. They always made me laugh. Trevor always found a way to make our abnormal routines funny or cute. He always wanted to distract me from the fact that our lives were different.

After he’d finish drying my body, he’d whisk me away into the bedroom and how I felt usually dictated what we did next.

If I was tired, we’d take a nap. In pain, he’d give me one hell of a massage. The occasions I ended up horny? Trevor fixed that too.

And through Trevor’s learning, Jamie picked up on things too. When Trevor was on road trips and I was stuck with Jame, I learned I could lean on him. He was always one call away when I needed him. Even if it meant yelling across the house.

“Jamie!”

“I’m coming!” His thudding and rushed footsteps always endeared me.

“Hey!”

At times he’d find me on the floor.

“Hey, what happened?” He rushed to my side, helped me up slowly, and assured himself that I wasn’t injured.

“Guess I just can’t walk today…” I mumbled, embarrassed. The joint pain was always the worst to handle when I needed to be active.

“Alright.. what do you need to me to do?”

I found that Jamie was still on the ‘what do you needs?’ While Trevor already knew seconds in advance. And Trevor was far more confident with my illness than Jamie was.

He’d often text Trevor on my bad days to let him know. He’d also sit with me on the couch, never too touchy, not wanting to cross any lines. But when we’d sit at opposite ends -watching anything on the tv- occasionally, he’d pull my feet into his lap and gently rub them or my legs.

When Trevor would return from those long road trips, he’d always see me and tend to my needs and profess his love, before asking if I needed new pills, or if I needed him to stop by the store for anything. He’d been a domestic disaster before I got my diagnosis. Now, he was one of the most domestic guys I knew.

“This is it? Everything on this list?”

“All the groceries we need for the week. Yup.”

“Okay.. did you ask Jamie if he wanted anything?” I smiled and nodded. We were always taking care of Jamie.

“The store bought cookies are for him. And the purple Gatorade.”

“Okay. I’ll be back. Then I’m making dinner.”

Those words brought a huge smile to my face.

“Can’t wait, Trev.”

Sometimes I would go with him, but only on days when I felt on top of the world. Usually I tried to spend those days going out, but Trevor was always afraid I’d overdo it.

On those good days when he turned out to be right, he never told me so, or shook his head or laughed at me. He’d simply welcome me home with open arms and a sympathetic expression. Because he knew how much I missed my normality. How much I missed my old life.

And often times when I dwelled too much on that, he was always there.

“You’re beautiful. And I love you so much. And I’m happy with where we are right now. I’m happy to look after you, and love on you, and I’m happy you let me stand by you.”

His confessions were often spoken whispers in the darkness of our bedroom at night. Or on the rooftop. He hated when I went up there alone, but he still found me there from time to time.

He sat behind me, pulled me against his back between his legs, and wrapped his arms around me.

“We’re doing this together. I’ve been here from day one, and I’m not leaving now. I’m already in too deep.” He smiled. His breathy laugh would make me giggle.

“I’ve already seen too much.” He added with a playful touch of horror in his tone. I reached behind myself to slap his chest. I knew he was genuine. I knew he loved me. And I hoped he would never leave me. He always told me he was there until our last days on this earth. Until we both ceased to exist.

“I promise I’m sticking around. Me and Jambo. But mostly me.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Not sure if this has been asked before, but do Time Lords get scars, or do their injuries (minor ones that do not lead to regeneration, of course) heal without a trace?

Do Time Lords get scars?

Gallifreyan skin shares a lot of similarities with human skin, but its got some unique assets that make it pretty resilient and less prone to scarring.

🧬 Gallifreyan Skin Structure

Epidermis: The outermost layer - it's thicker than human epidermis, with a denser keratin providing enhanced protection. It's also got an additional layer, unique to Gallifreyans, making it more durable.

Dermis: The layer where most of the action happens, supporting sensory functions and immune response. It's slightly thinner than in humans, but it has more collagen and elastin. It's also got a special layer that gives a "trampoline" effect to repel foreign objects.

Hypodermis: This has subcutaneous fat and additional collagen, acting as cushion, insulator, and energy reserve. It's got more fat than in humans to increase resilience and heat control.

🛠️ Healing Mechanisms

Gallifreyan healing processes are obviously advanced, with their unique skin structure facilitating rapid and efficient recovery from injuries. Here’s a detailed breakdown:

Bleeding: Capillary networks in Gallifreyan skin are denser, leading to faster clotting for minor wounds. The increased number of capillaries means more immediate blood supply to injured areas.

Inflammation: The area swells as blood rushes in, bringing essential nutrients and oxygen to aid repair. Similar to humans, but Gallifreyans experience a more intense and effective inflammatory response.

Proliferation: New tissue replaces damaged tissue, closing the wound. The process involves the rapid multiplication of cells, similar to human wound healing but faster due to advanced cellular mechanisms.

Remodelling: Tissue remodels to restore the normal structure and function of the skin. This is the stage that determines whether they'll scar.

⚔️ Scarring in Gallifreyans

The likelihood and extent of scarring depend on the injury's depth and severity:

Minor Injuries (Epidermal Layer - superficial) - Typically heal without scarring within 2 days (or faster with treatment or a healing coma).

Moderate Injuries (Dermal Layer - deeper) - May leave minor scars, usually healing within 7-14 days depending on the treatment.

Major Injuries (Hypodermal Tissue and Bone - deepest) - Likely to scar due to deeper tissue damage, needing up to 28 days to heal without treatment. The presence of subcutaneous fat and specialised fluid provides additional protection but doesn't entirely prevent scarring.

🔍 Additional Factors

Foreign Objects: Gallifreyan skin expels foreign objects by effectively 'pushing' out objects that penetrate the dermal and subcutaneous layers.

Healing Coma and Zero Room: Advanced methods like entering a healing coma or using a Zero Room can significantly accelerate healing and reduce scarring.

🏫 So ...

Time Lords generally heal rapidly and effectively, avoiding scars from minor injuries. However, more severe injuries can result in scarring. Their unique physiology allows for high resilience and recovery, making scars relatively rare but not impossible.

Related:

Does Gallifreyan skin react to burns?: Burn scarring with classification and the healing process.

How can Gallifreyans manage pain/chronic pain?: Overview of natural and medicinal aids to pain.

Do Time Lords have the same skin and hair cycles as humans?: How skin and hair growth occur in Gallifreyans.

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[rosebug3]

I can't with people going on about how Bobby's heart stopped for 14 minutes, and how it's unrealistic that he's fine,

You know, when this show left every realm of reality and jumped into stupid land,

When they insisted, you could be a firefighter on blood thinners.

The truth is, Bobby was the only one who followed the proper procedure. Then Buck got mad and quit, but Bobby was right.

This has always been one of the most inaccurate fire department/emergency shows with stuff like,

Buck showing up on half of the medical calls, a lot of their plans on calls would just injure the patients more, Hen and Chimney saving people with the wrong medicines and doses, Hen and Chimney randomly not being the paramedics, constantly forgetting the rest of the shift,

But nothing will ever be dumber than their insistence that blood thinners not be seriously considered for limited duty and then ending a firefighter's career. In Buck's case, he was eventually taken off blood thinners, but in the meantime, He'd be taken off active duty if not just let go.

If you can go around arguing that Buck was fine and should have been cleared to put on full gear and run into a structure fire, you can get past Bobby's recovery because it's not as dumb.

After all, it’s a one-off, not an arc, and unlike the blood-thinner thing, it can actually happen.

It’s not expected, but on several occasions, people's hearts have stopped for longer, and they walk away fine. Isn’t that the type of story the writers live for the 118.

we watch the show cause the characters are interesting and they at least mention the psychological effects of this job, not for the reality of firefighting.

[all-pacas]

DIAGNOSTIC OLYMPICS, SEASON 1, EPISODES 5-15

part one

Hi! I was curious about who on House (besides House) gets the most diagnoses right. Other folks have already run a tally (it's Chase), but I was curious how other factors would influence the tally — whose ideas get run with, who manages treatment, who screws up… So I thought I'd keep score.

1 point for getting the answer. This is almost always going to be House.

.5 points for Valuable Contribution — stuff that isn't the final answer, but either is thought to be the final answer or is valuable to the solving of the case. Stuff like "noticing something on the MRI" doesn't count; things like "figuring out how to treat" does.

-.5 to -1 for Mistakes — stuff that delays or prevents diagnoses, injuring or killing patients, etc.

FIDELITY

DIAGNOSES: African Sleeping Sickness

+1 House: Figures it out very early, the trick is proving it, which takes significantly longer. +.5 Foreman: When at first it looks like sleeping sickness is impossible, he comes up with a strong secondary theory and gets House Praise GO-GETTER AWARD: This is the third time Cameron has brought House a case, and in just a couple episodes she'll bump that up to four. PROBABLY A COINCIDENCE AWARD: Chase immediately guesses parasites based on the idea that "maybe she was lying about never leaving the US." This is the second time in three episodes his first offhand guess ends up being right.

POISON

DIAGNOSES: Pesticide Poisoning

+1 Team: This is another episode where they basically know what's happening immediately, the trick is proving it/figuring out how to treat it. +.5 Cameron: Successfully bullies the mother after she shoots down everyone else. House and Chase had to trick her in the end anyway, but credit where it's due. -5 COOL POINTS: When the patient is seizing, the subtitles have Chase saying "stay calm." The words that actually come out of his mouth are "stay cool, mate."

DNR

DIAGNOSES: Bad Arteries

+1 Team: Another episode where no one person has a big breakthrough; they only catch the cause of the patient's paralysis on a scan. +.5 House: His determination that something is wrong and should be addressed leads to the patient not only being able to walk, but still being alive. Legally shady, medically good. +.5 Cameron: Suggests a stroke early on, and a scan does find a clot. It doesn't end up being the problem, just a symptom, but good call. +0 Foreman: His first time running a case and it really doesn't go well. He keeps following House's orders and doubting himself, lies about treatment, and is generally wishy-washy. He didn't make any mistakes (because he didn't make any calls), but not a good showing.

HISTORIES

DIAGNOSES: Rabies

+1 House: Figures out the patient has rabies. -.5 Foreman: Makes a number of mistakes, from refusing to take any of the patient's symptoms seriously to wanting to discharge her to almost giving her an MRI with a metal pin in her arm. I was going to give him a full point demerit, but he does accurately guess she gave herself the insulin OD intentionally, and once he gets over himself and realizes he fucked up he works really hard to help the patient.

DETOX

DIAGNOSES: Termite poisoning

+1 House: Figures it out while actively suffering drug withdrawal. +.5 Chase: The patient's eye gets a clot and goes blind, but he's on blood thinners and they can't operate. House is willing to just let the eye be blinded, but Chase figures out a creative way to remove the clot and save the eye. +0 Cameron: Suggests lupus and gets really, really stuck on it, but still goes along with all of House's ideas. They do eventually treat for lupus when House runs out of other ideas, but he's clear he doesn't think it's a good one. +5 MEME AWARD: First time lupus comes up on the show!

SPORTS MEDICINE

DIAGNOSES: Cadmium poisoning

+1 House: Takes him a while, because at first they dismissed environmental causes, but when the patient's wife shows a symptom he figures it out in three seconds. +.5 Chase: Initially suggests Addison's, which House likes and the team runs with. Later, is the first of the team to realize House thinks cadmium poisoning, and figures out the source. +10 FRIENDSHIP POINTS: The first time in the series the fellows hang out outside work, we see them getting drinks at one point and dinner with a drug rep at another.

CURSED

DIAGNOSES: Anthrax and Leprosy

+1 House: He figures out that the patient and his father both have leprosy. He also figures out Rowan Chase has cancer, but we're not grading on that case. +.5 Cameron: The first to realize anthrax after House notices something wrong with the sample. +.5 Chase: He has like three merits and three demerits for this one. His early guess of mold causing pneumonia is a good one, and leads them to anthrax. He also bonds with the patient and gets a truer history from him. However, once his dad shows up, Chase spends the rest of the episode just trying to prove him wrong: first that the patient doesn't have sarcoidosis, then testing for every single auto-immune disease known to man because daddy thinks it is one. On the other hand, he also sticks to his guns on anthrax and is proven correct even after the team and House (and dad) dismiss it as a possibility. -1 Rowan Chase: Being a bad father aside, his guesses are plausible but all wrong. As Baby Chase points out, Daddy Chase is just guessing rheumatoid diseases because that's what he knows. THE REMY HADLEY AWARD: Chase manages to be so opaque and so resistant to House's manipulation attempts that House gives up entirely and just tries to have an honest conversation with him. 13 would be proud.

CONTROL

DIAGNOSES: Ipecac poisoning

+1 House: Figures it out, and advocates hard for his patient to have a heart transplant once he realizes she's sick because she's self harming. Ethically shaky, medically good. +.5 Cameron: Reads a self-help book and manages to get the guys to agree with all her ideas and run her tests. She continues to have good ideas through the case, even if she quickly gets on all their nerves. +0 Chase: hot take alert! He loses points for his fuck up early in the episode: he's too busy flirting to realize he scanned the wrong leg. Luckily for him, it had no bearing on the case, but it could have gone very badly. On the other hand: Going off a vague clue (that House was acting oddly), he also manages to figure out the ipecac poisoning and that the patient's illness was self inflicted. He then runs to Vogler (+50 Rat Points). Shitty move ethically, good diagnosing. I wouldn't give him the credit if he hadn't also been careful to wait to tattle after the transplant was done.

MOB RULES

DIAGNOSES: Beef allergy

+1 House: The episode is really much more about Vogler and Chase's ratting than the case. The patient has an unrelated symptom (high estrogen) that throws everyone off for a while, but once House finds the cause it's pretty quick and obvious.

RUNNING TALLY:

HOUSE: 11.5 TEAM: 3 FOREMAN: 1 CHASE: 2.5 CAMERON: 2.5

Cameron has the biggest jump, going from .5 to 2.5: she isn't making any big leaps, but unlike Chase and Foreman, she's consistently solid and not making any big mistakes either. Good for her!

[xnoctifers-eveningx]

𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊Wild Plant Lore P.2 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼

Some more notes from my herbology journal of wild plants and weeds that you can utilize in your practice. Includes mundane uses like culinary, medicinal properties, folklore/cultural importance, and magical associations. This post does contain poisonous/toxic plants that can be fatal if ingested, I'm not suggesting anyone inexperienced or experienced do anything with them, do your own research on how to handle them if you plan on using them in any way. They're interesting to learn about nevertheless.

Disclaimer at the end !!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼

Yarrow- Also known as common yarrow, bloodwort, herba militaris, or Achillea Millefolium. Yarrow is a woody plant with small, round, white flowers and frilly, feather-like leaves surrounding the stems. This plant looks very similar to hemlock which is very poisonous but you can tell the difference by yarrow’s distinctive leaves. Yarrow is edible and can be eaten raw, it tastes pretty bitty and earthy so it’s best to pick while young. It’s most commonly used in salads and soups. Yarrow has a rich medicinal and magical history. It used to be called herba militaris, the military herb, because of its astringent properties. Its Latin name, Achillea Millefolium, comes from the Iliad where Achilles and his soldiers use yarrow during battle. Poultices and ointments made from its leaves are used to aid in lessening swelling and bleeding. Do not consume yarrow if you are on blood thinners or pregnant/lactating, this plant has a chance of causing miscarriages. People are commonly allergic to this plant so please be wary of this and test it before consuming, skin allergic reactions are the most common. Yarrow is also commonly used to treat stomach ailments like constipation, nausea, diarrhea, and IBS symptoms. The plant contains flavonoids that increase saliva and stomach acid to help improve digestion. It's also been used for menstrual pains and stomach aches as it can help relax the uterus and intestinal muscles. Some Native American nations have used yarrow for toothaches, earaches, and eyewashes through poultices and liquid infusions. There's no end to the magic of yarrow, there are so many different charms, divinatory practices, and spells that use yarrow in cultures worldwide. Many cultures have used it to keep away curses and evil magic, they would place it on their doorsteps to ward off evil spirits and keep witches away, or in cribs to protect babies and mothers. “When going on a journey, pull ten stalks of yarrow, keep nine, and throw the tenth away (as a spirit’s tithe), put the nine under the right heel, and evil spirits will have no power over you”.

 It’s often been used in divination and psychic senses. In Ireland, it’s thought to be able to give someone ‘the second sense’ and it’s used in a lot of divinatory prayers and charms, usually to do with finding love. It’s also sometimes said that standing on the plant would give one temporary fluency of speech. There is a ceremony of some Gaelic speakers where they had to recite an incantation (the one below this block of text) before harvesting the plant as it was held to high importance. In Chinese belief, it’s thought to bring good luck and the dried stalks are sometimes used in I Ching divination. 

“I will pluck the yarrow fair That more benign will be my face, That more warm shall be my lips, That more chaste shall be my speech, Be my speech the beams of the sun, Be my lips the sap of the strawberry. May I be an isle in the sea, May I be a hill on the shore, May I be a star in the waning of the moon, May I be a staff to the weak. Wound can I every man, Wound can no man me.”

It’s widely used in love divination, sometimes people would put it under their pillows at night and say the rhyme below before bed. Sometimes they would pick yarrow from a young man's grave and whoever the girl saw in her dream would be hers. In some beliefs, if the man was turned to her then they’d never marry. 

“Yarrow, yarrow, yarrow, I bid thee good morrow,  And tell me before tomorrow,  Who my true love shall be.”

Girls in Aberdeen would go out in fields on a May morning to pick yarrow while reciting the chant below with their eyes closed, then open their eyes and the first man she spied would be hers that year. There are a lot of little incantations and charms like this for yarrow you can find online if you’re curious !!

“Good morrow, good morrow, To thee, braw yarrow, And thrice good morrow to thee; I pray thee tell me today or tomorrow Who is my true love to be.”

Alternatively, in some European beliefs, it was thought to be associated with the devil, being called devil’s nettle or “bad man’s plaything” due to the belief that witches used it in divination and devil worship. Elspeth Reoch was accused of being a witch in 1616 because she was caught picking supposed yarrow. In Wales, it was considered extremely unlucky to bring into the home and even supposedly called the “death flower” in some places. 

⛧ Divination, love, protection from curses, witchcraft, and spirits. But also bad luck, curses, and death in some cultures

Datura- Also called devil’s trumpets, jimsonweed, and devil’s snare. Datura is a genus of 9 species, all of which are poisonous. Datura is a large, branchy herb that forms bushes. It has light green or reddish stems with long, toothed leaves and white or light violet, trumpet-shaped flowers. While the plant may look pretty but it’s very toxic and can be deadly. All parts of the plant are inedible and if ingested it causes a hefty amount of psychoactive and deliriant symptoms like erratic behaviour, hallucinations, tachycardia, heat flashes/hyperthermia, and a variety of other not-so-pleasant symptoms including death. While this plant is psychoactive it’s not a good idea to try to use it recreationally as the symptoms can last up to two days with reports of it lasting for as long as 2 weeks. There have been multiple reports of deaths from people attempting to get a high out of datura and even when “successful” the majority of people report having extremely unpleasant experiences. Datura is also often called Jimsonweed which comes from another name, Jamestown weed, which refers to when English soldiers were attempting to suppress Bacon’s rebellion in Jamestown and consumed boiled datura which left them in altered mental states and ill for 11 days. Because of how dangerous this plant is, there aren’t any real suggested medicinal uses for it. Datura has been used in many cultures for ritual and ceremonial practices due to its psychoactive effects. Many Native American nations used it in very specific ways to aid in their ceremonial practices alongside other sacred herbs. The name datura is taken from the Hindi word धतूरा, dhatūra, meaning thorn apple (in reference to Datura metel, a datura species native to Asia). Datura plays a role in Hinduism as datura is considered a favourite plant of Shiva. Datura also has a long history in witchcraft and the occult, it’s long been associated with witches and magic due to its psychoactive effects. Throughout many cultures, its been used to help connect with deities and spirits, aid in necromancy, healing rituals, and used in flying ointments and curses. In modern-day practice, datura is still fairly commonly used to promote psychic powers and aid in visions, astral projection, divination, and spirit communication. Additionally, likely due to its history of being used as a poison, it’s often used in curses.

⛧ Psychic senses, spirit communication, astral projection, curses

Lily of The Valley- Also known as glovewort, May bells, Our Lady’s Tears, and Convallaria majalis. Lily of the Valley is a flowering plant made up of one thin stalk that has two thick, long, swirling leaves. The downturned white, bell-shaped flowers droop to one side and are often accompanied by small red berries. These plants are often found in woodland areas and bloom in the Spring. Lily of the Valley is not edible and if ingested can be fatal. The entire plant is poisonous and can cause irregular heartbeats, nausea, vomiting, and abdominal pain if consumed. If touched, it can cause dermatitis and skin reactions so always wash your hands after handling it or use gloves. Despite that, the plant has been used in a lot of folk medicines. It’s often called glovewort in Europe as it was used in salves for sore hands and oils from the rhizome were used to promote heart health. There have been no studies done to verify its effectiveness and it’s often unsafe to consume and touch so it’s not recommended to try to use it medicinally. Although it’s poisonous, it has a very strong and sweet-smelling fragrance that many perfumes have recreated. Lilies of the Valley are often seen at weddings, celebrations, and sometimes funerals. In the Language of Flowers, Lily of the Valley signifies the return of happiness, likely originating from its place as the flower of Spring and May. On May 1st, May Day or Lily of the Valley Day is celebrated by giving the flowers to loved ones to bring happiness and luck. It’s sometimes called Apollinaris from the Greek myth that Apollo made paths of it on Mount Parnassus so his 9 nymph muses could walk through the forests unharmed. In Christianity, it’s sometimes referred to as Our Lady’s Tears or Mary’s Tears from the story saying that as Mary wept at the foot of the cross after Jesus’s crucifixion, these flowers popped up wherever her tears fell. Because of this, it’s often associated with Easter and motherhood. In Romanian culture, it also represents tears with a similar story of a girl crying at the grave of her parents and her tears causing the flowers to sprout wherever the tears fell. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much about this story beyond a brief mention though. Because of the bell shape of the flowers, there are stories of faeries ringing the bells, drinking out of them like cups, and being attracted to gardens where they grow. Lily of the Valley can be used to promote happiness, help calm the mind, and attract fae. Additionally, the poisonous berries and flowers are sometimes used in baneful and protective spellwork to stop harassment (calm chaos/harm) and protect against spells and malicious entities.

⛧ Happiness, love, motherhood, purity/humility, Spring, prosperity, faeries. Grief, death, and baneful protection in some beliefs

Mugwort- Also known as common mugwort, mother of all herbs, the witch’s herb, and Artemisia vulgaris. This is a very common flowering plant that’s a part of the daisy family. Mugwort can oftentimes be found in the wild, it has leaves that are hairless and green on top, silvery-white on the bottom, with pointed tips and purple stems. Mugwort can often be mistaken for Ragweed or Wormwood but the best way to tell them apart is that Mugwort has leaves that are hairless on top with silvery fibers on the bottom. It’s very aromatic and smells a bit like sage and rosemary. Mugwort’s leaves, young shoots, and roots are edible, though avoid consuming it in large amounts as it can be poisonous and it’s not safe to consume if you are pregnant (can restart the menstrual cycle and cause miscarriage) or on blood thinners so please talk to a doctor before using. It has a slightly bitter and floral taste, the young shoots and leaves can be cooked, and the leaves and roots can be dried and made into tea. Commonly used with meats, soups, or teas. Historically, this plant has been used for centuries for its medicinal properties with many uses to soothe stomach and digestion issues like constipation, diarrhea, nausea, and cramping. It was held so important that it was given the name mother of herbs. Huge warning for this plant though, there is a high chance that you could be allergic to it or for it to cause negative side effects like allergic reactions, nausea, shaking, hallucinations, dizziness, and seizures. This is a plant that you need to take caution around and do your own research for, as beneficial as it can be, it can be just as harmful. Avoid heavily concentrated oils of mugwort too as they may include high levels of thujone which can cause seizures, the raw plant contains little enough for this to be considered a safe plant to generally consume, this can also be absorbed through the skin. In many cultures, the plant is smoked or drank in teas. Essential oils of mugwort have also been used in insect repellents and traditionally root tinctures have been used for anxiety, irregular menstrual cycles, menopause symptoms, aid in childbirth, seizures, and epilepsy. 

Mugwort is a pretty prominent plant in many cultures around the world and is very commonly used in magic. Its botanical Latin name is Artemisia Vulgaris, Artemisia comes from the goddess Artemis who is a god associated with the moon, motherhood, and childbirth which ties into the lore of mugwort. Mugwort teas are often used to promote lucid dreaming, astral projection, and heightened intuition. It’s commonly used in flying ointments, psychic teas, and incense. Mugwort also offers some protection against evil and illness, St. John the Baptist was said to carry springs with him to ward off evil and before that. In many European cultures there are Midsummer rituals where it was thrown into fires to offer protection to ward off witches, evil spirits, and illness. In a lot of cultures, mugwort is used to open the doors between the spirit realm and ours, many people use it for prophetic dreams or to connect with ancestors. Sprigs of mugwort were placed over doorways to keep away evil spirits and illness and satchels of the herb are commonly placed near beds or under pillows to induce lucid dreaming, prophetic dreams, and astral projection. In modern practice, it’s very commonly used to promote lucid dreams and astral projection by drinking it in teas or lighting incense. As well as used to aid in divination and spirit communication. Truly the witch’s herb :)

⛧ Lucid dreaming, astral work, clairsenses/psychic work, lunar associated, motherhood/womanhood, divination, ancestor/spirit work, protection from bad health, evil spirits, and nightmares

Purslane- also called pigweed, hogweed, and Portulaca oleracea. Purslane resembles a jade plant with a thick, succulent red stem and smooth succulent leaves. It’s a very low-growing plant that tends to spread outward from its center. Purslane’s leaves, stems, and flowers are edible. It tastes tart and slightly salty, similar to spinach or watercress. You shouldn’t consume it if you are prone to kidney or urinary tract stones as it contains oxalic acid. Purslane is often used in salads, soups, smoothies, and commonly even omelets. It’s considered to be a superfood but that’s generally an arbitrary term, it is a very nutritious plant nevertheless as it contains a lot of antioxidants and Omega 3 acids. Purslane is used medicinally on small wounds and burns to aid in wound health. It’s used in skincare for its anti-inflammatory properties and to reduce the visibility of wrinkles and scars. Purslane may have a cooling effect so people have used it for fevers. There are a lot of different medical uses attributed to purslane but not much scientific proof validating the claims so I won’t really go into those very much but it was often used to cure toothaches and soothe the kidneys and liver, some would call it a cure-all plant. Some will use it to help with their diabetes as it may help reduce blood pressure. Purslane was used widely as a medicinal herb and was thought to drive away illness if worn. It was considered a protective herb in many cultures, many would place it around their homes, beds, and under pillows to ward against illness, evil spirits, and magic. When researching purslane I found a lot of mentions of an old German herbal book from 1715 by Axtelmeier that said

“Even though purslane is cold and moist, it is a real summer plant and does not like the cold. There is a saying that in marriage it is always good when two different temperaments join together. The good Lord alone knows what is best and for that reason sometimes two very different personalities join together in marriage”.

I couldn’t find for the life of me the actual work it was from but there are many mentions of this passage online. There are also some references to people having worn purslane to protect themselves from gunshots, lightning, and illness. Purslane is also said to help aid in clairvoyance, scrying, and astral projection, perhaps because of its association with the moon.

⛧ Harmony, marriage, clairvoyance, astral projection, protection from spirits, illness, and harm

St. John’s Wort- Also known as perforate St. John’s wort (SJW) and Hypericum perforatum, not to be confused with mugwort. A woody flowering shrub with bright yellow, five-petalled leaves, each with a small black dot on the edge that can be seen when held up to light. It has dark green leaves which also often have those same small black, although sometimes transparent, dots. While SJW is not really regarded as being poisonous, it’s not ingestible so it’s not recommended to eat it. It’s not technically edible or not edible, the flowers and fruit are used medicinally but that’s usually the extent of consumption. If you do eat it, you may experience an upset stomach, headaches, confusion, trouble sleeping, fatigue, dizziness, sensitivity to sunlight, and increased anxiety. There aren’t many culinary uses for it, most of this will be about its medicinal uses. SJW has been used medicinally for a very, very long time, both in historical and modern-day use. This plant is usually consumed through teas, liquid extracts, and (more recently) pills made from the flowers. It’s said to taste slightly bitter but similar to black tea though is often times paired with other herbs. Historically, the Greeks used to use it to aid in wound healing, treat anxiety and aid in sleep. Some Native American nations also used it for wound healing, it has some antibacterial, antiviral, and anti-inflammatory properties which make it good to treat minor burns, abrasions, and bruises, this is usually done through the use of an infused oil. In Europe, it was also used to treat minor wounds and burns along with lung and kidney ailments and to treat anxiety and depression. SJW has been used to help with anxiety and depression in many different cultures and more recently there have been studies done to prove that it can help, in fact, it’s been shown to be as effective as some common antidepressants for mild and severe depression. It’s also still commonly used as a sleep aid. Do not take SJW if you’re on medications treating HIV/AIDS, or pregnant as it can very likely cause a miscarriage. 

In Europe, where it originates, it was used often for its protective properties — people would hang it over their doorways to ward off demons, faeries, evil spirits, and even storms. Some would wear SJW to keep away witches and witchcraft and it was said to offer the most protection if it was accidentally found. The Greeks also used SJW to exorcise evil spirits and energies. It was heavily believed to offer good health and protection from death, making it quite the protective herb. Though, there is a story saying that if you step on the plant after dark a phantom horse/faery would kidnap you and drop you off somewhere far from where you started. During Christian Europe, it was associated with St. John the Baptist because it bloomed around when his canonical birthday was, it was also used to celebrate the Summer Solstice around the same time. Some Christians believed that the spots on the plant only appeared after the beheading of the Saint and that it represents his blood. Many would also put SJW under their pillow as they slept as they believed that the Saint would come to them in their dreams and offer them blessings and protection. In a German poem, there is a story of a young girl using this plant to divine who she will marry, its association with divination/fortune telling is a very common one being found in a lot of European folklore where people ask how long they’ll live or who they’ll marry. This was usually done by asking a question, leaving it hanging from the rafters overnight, and if it was wilted it would be a negative outcome. Modernly, SJW is still widely in use for very similar things like protection, healing, and divination.

⛧ Happiness, tranquility, Solar associated, protection from witchcraft, spirits, and storms, warding off evil spirits, fae, and negative energies

Wood Sorrel- Wood sorrels are members of the Oxalis genus, many being known by the common name wood sorrel. They’re characterized by 3 leaflets very similar to shamrocks and flowers with 5 petals that are typically either yellow, white, pink, or red. Some varieties have 4 leaves or purple leaves. The fruit is a small capsule that holds seeds that ‘explode’ to disperse them. They look very similar to creeping buttercups and sometimes can be mistaken as clover. Wood sorrel has been eaten by many people throughout history, they taste slightly like lemons and are sour, causing it to sometimes be referred to as sourgrass. If you like the taste you can dry and boil the leaves to make a lemony tea or add them fresh to salads. The juices of the plant have sometimes been used as a vinegar substitute or aid in curdling milk.

The name Oxalis comes from the Greek word oxús meaning sharp or pungent, referring to the sour taste. All members of the Oxalis genus contain oxalic acid, named after the genus, which gives the leaves that bitter taste. While safe to consume, in large doses it can be dangerous and cause skin and stomach irritation. With prolonged skin exposure, it can cause skin irritation and eye damage if in contact. With very large doses, it can be slightly toxic and interfere with proper digestion and kidney functions, and inhibit calcium absorption. So, Oxalis is safe for the most part but should be avoided if you have kidney diseases or are pregnant.

Oxalis has been used medicinally for a long time. It contains a lot of Vitamin C so it was sometimes used to treat scurvy. It’s been chewed to alleviate thirst and mouth sores. It has cooling properties and has been used in teas to drive away fevers and heat flashes, and help with sore throats and mouth sores. The juice can be gargled to rid mouth ulcers and applied in a compress or poultice to stop bleeding (coagulant) and reduce inflammation and swelling.

“In Dr. James Duke's Handbook of Edible Weeds, he notes that the Native American Kiowa people chewed wood sorrel to alleviate thirst on long trips, the Potawatomi cooked it with sugar to make a dessert, the Algonquin considered it an aphrodisiac, the Cherokee ate wood sorrel to alleviate mouth sores and a sore throat, and the Iroquois ate wood sorrel to help with cramps, fever and nausea.”

It’s obvious that wood sorrel looks very similar to a shamrock, so much so that it’s been argued that the shamrock might have originally been a species of Oxalis. Likely because of the resemblance, they’re often associated with luck and used in similar ways as clover. It also has 3 leaflets, 3 is a very symbolic number to many that represents past, present and future; upper, middle, and lower realms/worlds; and (re)birth, life, and death — similar to the symbolism of clover/shamrock. It’s also sometimes used as a protective plant similar to how lemon and vinegar are, making it useful in cleansing and banishing. In the Language of Flowers, it represents joy and happiness.

⛧ Joy, happiness, luck, cleansing/banishing, protection from negative spirits

Wormwood- Also called absinthe, common wormwood, and Artemisia absinthium. Wormwood is technically edible but it’s not something you can just pick and eat, natural wormwood contains thujone which can be toxic in large doses and could cause seizures. It’s also incredibly bitter so you probably wouldn’t want to eat it to begin with. Thujone is considered dangerous by the FDA but there are a lot of thujone-free wormwood products that you can purchase online. The main use of wormwood is its part in making absinthe which is an alcohol made from several different plants, another mundane use is repelling bugs. 

In 1905, a French man by the name of Jean Lanfray killed his pregnant wife and two children while drunk on absinthe, this only added to the fear surrounding absinthe at the time and people began to believe that absinthe caused extreme violence, hallucinations, and death. Researchers started to experiment with wormwood and thujone in extremely large doses on animals and found it can cause seizures, hallucinations, paralysis, and death. A petition by the Croix Bleue in 1907 was signed by over 400,000 people:

“Absinthe makes you crazy and criminal, provokes epilepsy and tuberculosis, and has killed thousands of French people. It makes a ferocious beast of man, a martyr of woman, and a degenerate of the infant, it disorganizes and ruins the family and menaces the future of the country” 

This caused absinthe to be banned in several European countries and the US around 1912. We now know that these reactions were caused by the alcohol in the absinthe and that the thujone in wormwood has very little effect unless taken in drastic doses. Absinthe was legalized in 2007 as long as it was thujone free. Wormwood is used in a lot of medicinal ways too, it’s important to note here that the amount of thujone in wormwood teas and medicinal infusions/pills is insignificant to the amount that is in distilled wormwood like alcohols (absinthe) and essential oils. Teas and medicinal methods that contain wormwood are safe as long as they are used properly. Wormwood is commonly used as a dewormer, hence the name, and has been proven to treat parasitic worm infections in animals just as well as commercial medicines. Wormwood is good to help with digestion issues like heartburn, stomach pain, constipation, and diarrhea – many people use it to help deal with symptoms of Crohn’s disease. Some studies have also shown that wormwood can help reduce pain and inflammation, some have used it to help treat their arthritis and joint pain. You can buy wormwood extracts and capsules online, though keep in mind that it’s not intended for extended use. Do not take wormwood if you are pregnant, it can cause a miscarriage, and do not consume if you have kidney issues because there is a chance it can cause abnormal liver function if taken too much or often. 

Wormwood has a lot of magical uses both traditional and modernly. Like yarrow, it’s been used for love divination/magic — 

“On St. Luke’s Day, take marigold flowers, a sprig of marjoram, thyme, and a little Wormwood; dry them before a fire, rub them to powder; then sift it through a fine piece of lawn, and simmer it over a slow fire, adding a small quantity of virgin honey, and vinegar. Anoint yourself with this when you go to bed, saying the following lines three times, and you will dream of your partner ‘that is to be’ St. Luke, “St. Luke, be kind to me, In dreams let me my true-love see.”” 

There is also a Bible passage that references wormwood as a star that taints the water and kills thousands of men, this is symbolic and in reference to how bitter the plant is. There are some Slavic folktales about carrying a sprig of wormwood with you to ward away evil spirits. It was said that if you burned it in a graveyard, the dead would rise and speak. It was burned with sandalwood to aid in summoning spirits. In modern-day practice, wormwood is drunk in teas and put under pillows to promote lucid dreaming and astral projection or to help aid in strengthening their psychic abilities and divination. Many use it to help ward off spirits as well as to communicate with them. 

⛧ Astral projection, lucid dreaming, divination, psychic abilities, protection from spirits, protection while traveling, spirit communication

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼

Disclaimer !!: Before you consume or use a plant medicinally, make sure you are 100% sure on the ID. Speak with a doctor before using a plant medicinally, especially if you’re pregnant, and make sure you aren’t allergic and that it won’t interact with any of your medications. Do not substitute legitimate medications with herbal remedies, this is not medical advice. Always do your own research before consuming or using a plant medicinally. Some of the plants, while generally safe for humans, are not safe for animals and children. Make sure to avoid areas treated with pesticides and always wash your takings before use. And make sure you're never over-harvesting, always make sure there's another patch nearby (unless invasive) !!

[readyplayerhobi]

Because, I Love You | 07

; Jungkook x Older!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst,

; Word Count: 2.6k

; Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied beginning of miscarriage

; Synopsis: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

; A/N: This chapter may be uncomfortable for some people - I don’t go too in-depth with it, and I don’t describe it too in-depth. The next chapter will deal with the aftermath mentally, not physically. For anyone who’s experienced this, I’m so sorry and I hope you’re okay now! Please remember to take of yourself physicall and mentally! I hope I’ve handled this carefully and with respect for anyone who’s gone through it.

; Masterlist

-

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls from the bedroom, his voice slightly muffled by the walls between you both. Absentmindedly, you call a response you stand up from the couch and begin to head up the stairs, wondering what he’s wanting you for.

He’s been busier than usual in your home lately, mainly because he was still half in the process of moving into your home. The two of you had decided that it would be best for him to move in with you to prepare for the baby, and given you were the one who owned a home, it made the most sense. What had taken the longest to sort out the bills situation.

You’d been happy to invite Jungkook into your home, and you were looking forward to no longer being alone but having someone to share your life with. But you were also proud of the fact that you’d been able to buy your own house through hard work, and even if you were going to have a child with him, you weren’t willing to put his name on the mortgage.

Thankfully, he hadn’t wanted that. In fact, he’d explicitly said he didn’t want to be added before you’d even properly started the conversation. He wasn’t comfortable with taking away your independence like that, and he knew how important it had been for you to afford to buy your own home. So instead, he’d offered to pay for three-quarters of the utilities, leaving you with your mortgage and only a quarter of the bills.

Given you’d never lived with someone before, you weren’t sure if this was considered fair but you appreciated that he wasn’t being toxic about it all. Still, you’d recommended that he save money if he could because you didn’t want him to be stuck if anything happened in the future. Not that you wanted that, but still.

That had been when he’d shyly and very awkwardly admitted that he had a trust fund that he wasn’t touching. You’d rolled your eyes at that, affectionately, and just gently pushed his arm. Of course, he had a trust fund, and of course, Jungkook was such a sweet person that he wasn’t using it and instead let it build interest.

What had made you want to cry, though, had been him suggesting that he split his trust fund in half for the baby. The thought of your little one being secure in the future financially was especially soothing, and you’d just given him a crushing hug and kiss in response.

Jungkook moved in officially last week when you had hit the 9-week pregnancy mark. Or that’s what the doctor had told you, anyway. And given you didn’t have a degree in medicine, you had to believe him. Because Jungkook had been living with his parents, he hadn’t had a huge amount to move over.

Most of it had been clothes, which he’d brought over in two trips. It had surprised you how many clothes he had, especially given he seemed to just always wear monochrome and baggy. Alongside that had been his boxing gear, which had gone in the garage, his gaming computer set-up which had gone into the office that you didn’t use and then his extensive collection of collectable figures. 

That had been a struggle to figure out where to put them, but you’d just ended up telling him that he could have the office as his so they’d all ended up in there. 

You’d wondered if he’d wanted to bring Bam and moved his dog with him, but he’d left Bam with his parents. When you’d asked why he’d pointed out that his mom was attached to him as she’d taken early retirement and he didn’t want to separate them. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure how Bam would react with a baby, so he didn’t want to risk it all.

You knew it had made him sad to leave his dog behind, but you understood his reasoning. His parents spent far more time with the Dobermann than he did, and they’d understandably ended up very attached. The subject of his parents remained a bit of a sore spot for you, and he’d been nice enough to avoid it.

They’d been confused as to why he was suddenly moving in with you from the little he'd told you. His dad had been supportive, telling Jungkook that he was just happy that his son was happy and had found someone he loved. His mom…well, Jungkook had tried to twist it into nicer words but you’d read between the lines. She was furious he was moving out, and even more angry that it was with you. She’d argued with him and told him that it was too early, that he was rushing and he’d regret it.

And Jungkook was too damn sweet to tell you, but given everything you knew about her so far, you’re pretty sure she had some nasty words to say about you as well. His reluctance to talk about it all made it obvious.

It hurt and you wouldn’t deny it. You wanted his mom to like you and to be pleased her son was with you, that she was content you’d look after him. Her dislike and sour attitude made you feel small, and it gave you anxiety for when you finally told her about the pregnancy.

Both of you had agreed that no one would know until you’d passed the first trimester, and even then you were reluctant for his mom to know. If she’d reacted like this to him moving in with you then you couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d react to finding out he was having a baby with you. No doubt she’d start throwing horrible accusations around about trapping him with a baby or something.

Heading into the bedroom, you pause for a moment to take in the sight. Jungkook is sat cross-legged on the bed with a whole mound of fresh clothing next to him and various smaller piles of neatly organised clothes around him. Of course, he was doing laundry, the man was odd and found it relaxing.

Not that you’d complain, you were more than happy to let him take over if that’s what made him happy.

“You rang?” You said in your best Lurch voice, causing him to smile as he looked up at you. Just as you’d already said, he was wearing a baggy plain black shirt with equally baggy grey sweatpants. It was annoying how pretty he looked, his hair curling ever so slightly at the ends as he hadn’t cut it in a while.

“I’ve sorted out your clothes already,” He says, gesturing with his chin to the piles of more colourful clothing. “I’ve put all the ones with holes and that here, I’m not sure if you’re wanting to keep them or anything?”

Jungkook sounds a little uncertain like he’s not sure if you’ll get offended. This is the first time he’s taken complete control of your washing, and there’s a part of you that feels embarrassed he’s been dealing with your crappy underwear but another part is endeared that he’s being sweet about it.

Crawling onto the bed behind him, you lay out between him and the pillow before reaching out for the top piece of clothing. Lifting it, you note it’s some underwear you’ve probably had for years. The colour is faded and the elastic at the waistband is coming away with holes doting the area. Not something you’d wear to seduce him, but still comfy and useful.

“Hmm, they can probably last a few more times. These are just the stuff I wear during my periods, I don’t care if they get stained or anything.” It’s then that you noticed one of the underwear with a dark stain on it, the evidence of a period long ago that still hadn’t properly washed out yet. Maybe if you were better with laundry, but you didn’t have the finesse of Jungkook.

There’s a brief pause before Jungkook takes the underwear from you and carefully folds it again. You get the sense he wants to say something, so you press a hand to his back comfortingly.

“Are you still spotting then?” He asks quietly, and your breathing freezes for a moment. It’s something you’d been trying not to think about too much, and you’ve been telling yourself it’s normal.

You’d started spotting in your underwear two weeks ago, which had made you panic and call your doctor. He’d confirmed that it was common during the first trimester, especially in the early weeks as a sign of implantation. To ease your worries, you’d been checked out and they’d confirmed that everything was looking good.

The fact it hadn’t stopped was a worry though. It went away for a little, but the last few days had been more frequent.

“Yeah.” Is all you say to him, letting your hand fall and rest under your cheek. It feels like your heart has taken root in your throat now, and you can feel your eye heat as you finally let yourself think about what you’ve been trying to ignore. What you’ve been desperately avoiding because you don’t want to acknowledge it. To acknowledge it is to accept it’s real.

“Are you…I mean…do you think we should go back to the doctor?” Jungkook asks quietly, still not facing you. He’s not moving though, his hands remaining where they are on the bed and you know he’s probably thinking the same things you are.

“He said it was normal to have it, and it’s not been all the time. I’ve looked it up, it’s common for early pregnancy.” You say, your voice light and airy in a way you don’t feel. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Jungkook doesn’t believe you, not with the carefully blank face he gives you over his shoulder. 

“Okay…but please go if anything changes, please?” He begs softly, twisting and taking your hand. It’s an awkward position, but you wrap your fingers around what you can and give him a reassuring squeeze along with a soft smile. Giving him a reassurance you don’t quite feel.

Because even if you’re trying to ignore it, there’s something deep inside you telling you that you don’t think something is quite right.

-

Two days later, you come home from work early to find Jungkook sitting in the office with his chunky neon pink headphones on. His new job lets him work from home more and given he has a pretty introverted personality he’s been taking full advantage of the opportunity. Another reason why you’ve let him take over the office for his own space. 

His head is bobbing slightly to whatever music he’s listening to, and you take in the lines of code he’s working on. It turns out that Jungkook’s computer set-up includes three screens, with his high-powered work laptop making up a fourth screen.

Moving over to him, you gently run your fingers through his hair and smile as he jolts in surprise before twisting and looking up at you. Those big eyes you love so much widen in shock before narrowing in happiness, his entire face lighting up as he smiles. It feels like a blessing from the universe that you’re the reason he feels so happy, and you’ll forever treasure the way he visibly brightens at seeing you.

Pushing off his headphones, he spins the chair around and smiles even brighter at you.

“Hey baby, fuck, I lost track of time. I was gonna put dinner on but I’m working on this cool code that Khalid sent over, it’s gonna look really cool and it’s so complicated-” He pauses then, looking back at his screen and taking in the time, before looking over your expression and posture before his face drops in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

You love that he loves you so much and he knows you so well, that he’s taken the time to learn your micro-expressions until he can tell there’s something wrong just in the way you stand. And right now, you need that love more than ever.

You try to give him a weak smile but it falters as you wince slightly, your hand half raising towards your stomach. He notices it immediately and his face pales, understanding instantly without saying anything.

“Is it…is there…” And then he stops trying to even say anything, instead standing up and wrapping you in his arms tightly. His head rests on your shoulder and you sag into him, letting a tear fall and soak into his shirt.

“I’ve made an appointment, I’m booked for a scan tomorrow.” You whisper, the words almost silent as you press your face further into him. That feeling of dread, that something wasn't right that had haunted you for the last few days, had proven to be true.

You’d woken up this morning to more spotting, which had left you feeling anxious but you’d just told yourself that it was just like any other day. So you’d gone to work and thrown yourself into your tasks, but even that hadn’t been enough. Not when you’d feel a sharp cramp at noon. It had been just the one, and it had left you cold with fear. Nothing had happened after that, and you’d wondered if it had just been an anomaly.

But then you’d gone to the toilet after lunch, and had seen the evidence that something wasn’t right. There wasn’t any spotting this time, or at least, not what you’d been used to. Instead, there had been a dark red stain on your underwear and bright red blood on the tissue. Much more than spotting, and you’d known.

A quiet word with your manager had allowed you to leave work early, and you’d already made an appointment with the doctor on the way home. You needed Jungkook there with you. Even though you knew what they’d say, you could feel the knowledge deep in your bones. But you needed confirmation.

Pulling away enough for him to see you, Jungkook gently runs his fingers down your face before kissing your forehead. All his earlier happiness at seeing you has faded away, and it makes you want to cry even further when you remember how quietly happy he’d been about being a dad. Even if he’d obviously been terrified.

Not that it mattered now. 

For a moment, Jungkook’s face crumples and you know that he knows too. That he knows he doesn’t need to be worried or concerned anymore, that he doesn’t need to read anything about pregnancy or being a parent and he doesn’t need to shop for cribs or any of that stuff. That the two of you will go on as just that, the two of you.

You don’t need to worry about how his mom will react, or anything of that. Because there won’t be a baby. Not in the near future, at least. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook whispers as he hugs you once more, holding you so tightly as if he could transfer some of his strength to you. How you’re meant to carry on when you know what’s happening in your body is beyond you, but you let yourself feel small and safe in his arms. 

You let yourself cry and release all the pain and loss that you’ve only just started to feel, which will only increase in the days following. And he holds you, feeling lost and useless in the knowledge he can’t do anything else to help.