#my head is pounding so hard and i have a headache from hell and right when that happens my uterus says nope and i get stomach pain from hel

[sherlockig]

-

[issdisgrace]

Hi hello, would you mind writing sa male resder x Oscar piastri fluff? Like just something really tame, like cuddling in bed, or comforting him after a bad race, or taking care of him when sick, or maybe some angst? He gets jealous cause some guy is flirting with reader, but fluff would be really nice, hope this isn't too long 😭😭 thx

MY SICK BABY

WARNINGS: None

A/N: Sorry this took so long, have been neglecting my writing and basically all other aspects in my life. But I hope you like this none the less.

Oscar didn't get sick often. In fact, the last time he was sick was almost a year. But when he did get sick he wasn't just sick, he was sick.

So when Oscar started feeling ill Friday night, dread sunk its way into his stomach. He knew that this weekend would be hell for him and god was he right.

He woke up Saturday morning with a pounding headache and a stuffy nose. He took some meds to help with it before he went out to the track, which helped some. However, he still felt quite miserable and others could see it, but despite this he had managed to qualify pretty good. Anyway, it was later that night everything just got worse, and the coughing started. He felt like he was suffocating, his chest hurt, he couldn't sleep, so he ended up calling you.

You were really concerned when you got a call from Oscar at 1 in the morning. But as soon as he started talking it was clear why he was calling you. He was sick. You felt bad as you listened to him explain everything. You suggested a couple of things that would hopefully help, which he appreciated, and you ended up staying on the phone till he fell asleep.

Then Sunday came, and despite your suggestions and some meds he still felt and now looked like hell. But he pushed himself, ignoring everything his body and others were telling him. He was going to race today even if it killed him. When he got out on the track, he felt surprisingly good and raced his ass off getting p3. Then he came in and his adrenaline came down and he felt worse than he did before. He had just made it through podium before he yacked up the contents of his stomach. He was grateful that the team didn't force him to do media after and just sent back to his hotel.

He managed to get some rest, which did him some good but before he knew it he 8pm and he needed to head to the airport for his flight home. Oscar was happy to be going home, and that flight was only 2 hours, but god those 2 hours were the absolute worse in his life. The turbulence was god awful, everyone and everything was just to loud, he had a hard time keeping whatever was left in his stomach down, and his nose just kept running.

By the time the plane landed around 11pm, he was ready to just cuddle up in bed with you and sleep for the next 24 hours. Picking Oscar up from the airport, you asked questions about how he was feeling wanting to gauge what you needed to do to help him feel better. Oscar told you and you made a mental note of everything as you headed home.

Once you guys were home, you got Oscar into pajamas and then got him some cold medicine and some soup that you had made earlier. He happily had to the soup as it was his favorite chicken noodle. But he reluctantly took the cold medicine because it tasted god awful. But he took it like the good boy he is.

You then got him all tucked into bed with the tv playing some old detective show that Oscar liked to watch. Kissed him goodnight and told him if he needed you, you would be asleep in the guest bedroom. Oscar wished you stayed with him, but he knew you didn't want to get sick as well.

Anyway, it was around 6 am when Oscar woke up. He felt hot and ill and quickly got out of bed to throw up the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Having woken up early and hearing the shuffling, then the throwing up, you quickly rushed to Oscar. Siting on the floor beside him, rubbing his back trying to soothe him.

You sit with him rubbing his back until he done throwing up. After he’s done you carefully get him back into bed. Then go and get the thermometer to take his temperature. You take his temperature and it reads 101 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s not good but it’s not as bad as it could be.

You get him some more cold medicine and water. You make sure he drinks all the water and then get a cool damp wash cloth on his forehead. You turn then turn the tv which shut off probably sometime in night. You put on some cartoons. They’re easy and you don’t got to think or follow much. Perfect for someone that is sick.

You then get everything set up for Oscar so he can take care of himself while your gone at work for the day. You’re a little reluctant to leave Oscar but you knew you had to work. You told Oscar to keep you updated in how he was doing.

When you got home from work, you immediately went and checked Oscar and found him asleep, cartoons still playing on the tv. You smile to yourself as you leave and go make dinner. When you’re almost done with dinner you hear the soft footsteps of Oscar coming down the hallway, you look up and greet him. He definitely looks better than he did this morning. You ask him how he’s feeling and he was better like you expected.

This routine of getting him set up in the morning and going to work and coming home and checking on him and then making dinner goes on for a 9 days, until Oscar feels completely better.

Oscar is really appreciative of you taking care of him while he was sick and took you out to dinner at a nice place as a thank you. Despite your insistence that he didn’t need to, that you were his partner and that taking care of him when he was sick came with that. While you were out for dinner you started sneezing a lot.

And by the next morning you were sick and it was Oscar’s turn to take care of you while you were sick.

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 2)- matt sturniolo

part one, part 2

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

——————————————————————————

your pov:

i woke up with a massive headache, my chest heaving. the first thing i think of is matt.

what the fuck, why is he on my mind on a saturday morning.

i shudder at my own actions and throw my covers over my head as a phantom chill runs down my spine.“cant stay in bed forever” i sigh to myself, while throwing the covers off my body almost immediately after putting them back on. I march to my closet and change into my favorite running shorts. as soon as i step foot out of my house, i start to jog, the melodic tempo lulling me out of my morning funk. my peace is disrupted tho because out the corner of my eye, i see my neighbor walk out his house into his driveway. his eyes bore into mine before they rake up and down my body. my heart beat picks up slightly, and it’s not from the exercise.

my neighbor, kit, has been weirdly obsessed with me ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. about a week ago, i caught him snooping around our house at night, trying to get a peek into my room. after that i’ve been trying to avoid crossing paths, and i wasn’t planning on crossing them today. its fine, hes probably taking out the trash, i think, desperately trying to reassure myself. i speed up from a light jog to a full on sprint because i know that once hes out my sight, i will feel more comfortable. i sigh in relief when i round the corner to the next street in my subdivision, happy that i got away from him.

slap slap slap

his feet pound against the ground as he sprints to catch up with me. i whirl around once i hear the footsteps, and lock eyes with him. the accidental eye contact was enough to spur him to go even faster than his long legs were taking him before. my heart to drops and i turn back around, running on pure adrenaline and fear.

“Y/n, stop running and come talk to me!” kit yells angrily but i’m running far too hard to form a proper sentence. even if i wanted to respond to him i wouldn’t have the breath to do so.

“STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET. YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME Y/N. COME HERE AND ADMIT IT” he screams even louder. my head starts to pound and my mind reels trying to come up with a plan. i can’t run forever. i gather the little breath i have in me to muster up a scream in hopes someone will come help me, only for the air to be knocked out of me. i ran straight into something, no,

someone.

“get. the fuck. away from her.” the mystery man growls.

kit takes one look at him and slowly backs away in fear. “who the hell are you?” out of curiosity, i look up to see who i’ve run into and freeze.

matt?

no it can’t be. it looks just like him but his eyes are dark red, and dark black veins swirl under his pale skin like they have a mind of their own. “who are you?” i cringe as i repeat the same question kit did moments before, both our tones lacking a single ounce of courage. fear was all consuming as we stared at the monster in front us.

“you know who i am, y/n. get behind me. now. im gonna deal with him” he says gruffly while looking behind me at kit. kit whimpers at the sight of matts deadly stare.

i ignore what matt says, opting to look him up and down instead in a manner that screams “what the fuck is wrong with you”. but then, i try to think rationally for a moment, this is still matt after all. he may not like me but hes not gonna hurt me. right?

“what happened to you, matt?”i question breathlessly.

“you.” matt deadpans in a voice much deeper than his normal one, taking a step closer to me. he reaches his hand out to grab me. to take me.

“y/n get away from him!!” kit interjects and pulls me too him in hopes of trying to help me get away from matt. and for once, i’m actually glad kits here.

wrong move.

matt is in front of me in a flash. he snarles as he pushes kit with bone crushing force. his body goes flying, hitting a pole a couple of yards away with a loud thud, knocked out on impact. i shriek, terror filling my veins. as if sensing my strong distress, matt turns to me slowly. his arms out in front of him, in what is supposed to be a peaceful gesture.

hard to be comforting when your veins are as dark as your tattoos.

“y/n, we need to talk” the stranger, deeper version of matts voice says.

why can’t i move. im frozen in time as he takes slow steps towards me.

“you need to come with me, y/n.” he breathes out, his dark red eyes wide and crazed. he takes another step closer. my legs feel like jelly but i finally manage to take one step back. whatever matt is, it can’t be human. humans can’t throw each other several yards. their veins aren’t as black as midnight, and their eyes sure as hell don’t change to a deep red on command. so what does he, no, it, want from me.

“w- why do i need to come with you? ”

“because you’re mine” he growls, finally deciding to close the gap between us, faster than my eyes can process. he bends down and run his nose along the hot spot on my neck. he inhales deeply and moans in relief his black veins disappearing. i scream and try to push him off but its useless. he grabs my arm in a vice grip and pure horror spreads through my body for what feels like the 100th time today. i try to let out another scream but no sound comes out. my vision clouds and my head is spinning. then everything is black.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@fratbrochrisgf

@mattslolita

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand Part 7

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Pregnant! Reader

Warnings: Medical drama, Fluff,

A/N: Hi loves, sorry for taking so long, i just moved into a new house and its been a lot. And honestly my mental health is trash. This part was also really hard to write for me because I had this happen to me. And i didnt realize how triggering it would be to write about it but the best way to get through the trauma is to write about it, right? maybe? no? well, anyways sorry if it sucks. i'll do better next time.

Word count: 1833...

New to the series? Catch up here: Part 6,

Your head pounded as you laid across the soft couch, each throb timed perfectly with the beating of your heart. There was no cuteness in pregnancy, not in your eyes at least. The glow that most women talked about was nothing more than a sheen of sweat that collected on your brow from your every move. There was a tiny human playing soccer with your organs, your ribcage the goal. They kicked wildly at the space below your ribs, the feeling enough to make you want to throw up. 

The past few days had been rough, you had a headache from hell and you just felt drained. Simon was concerned but you had chalked it up to the lingering cold you had going on. But now as you lay on the couch your stomach rolling with each passing moment you aren't so sure. Simon was on base today, having to complete some paperwork. He had woken you this morning, his lips peppering your face with soft kisses. 

He had tried to stay home but you had insisted he go, that you would be fine you would call if you needed him. Since he had left a few hours ago he had called you a few times, and you had reassured him each time that you were okay, you were just going to rest on the couch until he got home. You weren’t sure how long had passed since Simon had last called, but you had started to gradually feel worse. You push yourself up onto your elbows, and the world begins to spin around you. A wave of dizziness, crashing into you, as you blindly reach for your phone. 

You swallow trying to will yourself not to throw up. It takes you a few moments to find Simon's name in the phone, and putting it on speaker. It rings longer than normal but right before it goes to voicemail his panicked voice answers. “Hello? Y/n? What's wrong?”

“Simon… I… I don't feel good,” your voice shakes as you struggle to keep the phone in your hand. 

“Bloody hell, It’s alright Love, stay on the phone with me, i’m on my way,” there’s shuffling and the sound of boots hitting the floor in the background. “You’ll be okay, what's going on?”

“I have a headache… I'm nauseous, and I just don't feel good at all, I think something is really wrong,” you mumble, swaying slightly as you sit on the couch. 

“Okay, Love, do you have any swelling in your hands or feet?” The sound of Simon's truck revving filters through the phone. 

“Yeah a little,” You lean forward to the best of your ability and press on the top of your foot watching as your finger makes a light indent in the skin.

“Fuck..” Simon curses under his breath, “Love, go put your coat on, I’ll be there in a moment. Okay? We’re gonna go to the hospital.” 

“Simon?” you whisper, your voice shaking as you push yourself to stand, bracing yourself on the couch.

“Yeah love?”

“I’m scared…” you whisper, squeezing your eyes closed as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. 

“I know, I'm pulling up now okay, I'm gonna hang up okay? I just parked the truck, I'm coming to get you.” Simon's voice cuts off as the line goes dead. You shuffle over to the coat rack and start to pull on your coat. Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you hold the coat closed around your stomach. A sharp pain under your ribs causing you to gasp, and brace your hands on the kitchen counter. 

The sound of heavy boots stops outside the door as Simon pushes into the apartment. He’s still wearing all his gear, his tight black t-shirt, his cargo pants and skull mask on. His brown eyes are full of concern as he walks towards you, his large hands resting on your hips. 

“C’mon Love lets get you checked out,” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. Simon’s arms carefully pull you into him, resting your back against his chest as he guides you from the apartment and down to the car. Your mind feels cloudy and far away as Simon secures you into the truck. His hands brushing along your stomach as he fastens your seatbelt. You close your eyes focusing on the revving of the engine as Simon weaves the large black truck in and out of traffic. It was only moments later that it came to a screeching halt outside the A&E doors. He barely had the truck in park before he was jumping out and scooping you up in his arms. He cradles you against his chest as he bursts through the sliding glass doors.

“I need some help!” his voice is loud against your ear. The vibrations of it through his chest causing you to groan in pain. Each movement felt like it was sucking the soul out of you. Every breath hurt and you just wanted to sleep, but soon there were nurses and doctors swarming you. Each of them throws questions towards you, only to have Simon reply for you. 

“How far along is she?” a doctor asks as she shines a bright light in your eyes. 

“28 Weeks,” Simon's voice is laced with panic.

“Okay, let's get her up to Labor and Delivery people let's go! Someone call the NICU unit!” the on-call emergency room doctor calls out. It was like a swarm of bees, suddenly everyone was doing something. Someone was poking your arm with an IV while another was taking your blood pressure. You weren't sure whose hands belonged to who or what was going on. But after a few moments there was too much going on for your brain to process, and you passed out.

~~~~~

The beeping of the monitors was oddly familiar to you, like when you woke up after being caught in the stairwell after the apartment building you were living in caught fire. But this time there was an icy chill that ran down your spine when you heard it. The memories of what happened come flooding back.

Calling Simon, him rushing home, being rushed to A&E, the doctors concerned voice. The overwhelming sense of panic, and then nothing. You slowly pry our eyes open, fighting against the heaviness. The first thing you see is Simon's blonde hair, the wild strands sticking up at odd angles as it rests against the light blue hospital blanket. Your hand is trapped under his head. His cheek pressed firmly into the back of it. You wiggle your fingers slightly and he stirs. His head lifting, brown eyes blinking slowly as he came around. 

“Y/N?” He asks softly, his eyes meeting yours.

“Hi,” you croak softly, your throat dry and a little sore. 

“Oh god, baby, you scared me so much,” Simon whispers, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. He was still wearing his gear, minus his mask and vest, his black shirt slightly wrinkled. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your right hand moving reflexively to rest on your stomach. You pause, eyes widening as the once firm bump is now squishy and numb. The world seems to stop spinning, time slowing. Your heart wants to stop beating in your chest but it won't listen. 

 “N-No.” Your voice cracks, eyes welling with tears and a look of confusion crosses Simon's face before he looks at your right hand. 

“Oh! No, love, shhh stop it’s okay. The baby is okay.” He rushes out, grabbing your left hand in his. His face is full of concern, his brow furrowed as he watches you slightly relax. After a moment you let out a shaky breath.

“What happened?” You whisper, looking up at him, his hand still clutched tightly around yours.

“You had PreEclampsia, but a severe case of it called HELLP syndrome. I’m not entirely sure what it means but they said the only way to save your life was to deliver the baby. So they performed an emergency C-Section and had to give you a blood transfusion. The baby is okay, they’re in the NICU. I haven't been able to see them yet, but a nurse came about an hour ago and said that they were fighting like crazy and we should be able to see them soon.” He explains, his brown eyes welling with tears. 

His voice is rough and strained, “I thought I was gonna lose you both.”

Hot tears well in your eyes as he admits his fear. A man as big and strong as Simon looked so small at that moment. He looked like a lost child who couldn't find home. The brave soldier who willingly ran into warzones and fought people with his bare hands had never looked so helpless. It was in this rare moment that you got to see the person behind the hardened soldier. The man who truly thought he was going to lose the person he cared about, and his child. Your heart ached for him, you wished you could take the worry and pain he had felt away but you couldn't. 

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, he must've been so scared, felt so hopeless. He was usually able to control some aspect of the situations he was in. He could fight his way out of the worst scenarios, he could plan an escape, and he was always prepared for things if they went south. But he wasn't able to fix you, he had been completely helpless as Doctors worked to save not only your life but that of his unborn child. 

“Oh baby, don't cry,” Simon's thumb strokes the skin under your cheek as he wipes away your tears. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper, voice tight.

“It's not your fault, i’m just glad you're both okay.” He whispers, leaning forward and brushing his lips against your cheek.

“Tell me about the baby,” you blink away the rest of the tears, taking a steadying breath.

“It’s a girl, she weighs 1lb 2oz, and she's so small i don't even think she’d fill my entire palm. They aren't sure entirely what her future looks like, but the nurse that came in to check on you said she was a fighter, and she felt really good about her outcome.” He smiles, his brown eyes filled with pride as he talks about his daughter.

A daughter.

You had a daughter now.

The thought alone was crazy to you, you had been so sure the entire time it was a boy. You had a gut feeling but you were wrong, and you weren’t unhappy about it. You didn't care either way, the only thing you cared about was that they were okay.  That they would pull through everything and you would get to bring them home eventually. 

There's a soft knock on the door and a nurse with red hair pokes her head in. 

“Hi, do you two wanna go meet your daughter?”

Next Part: Part 8

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol, @natashamea18, @itsmytimetoodream @humanities-cutest @ajrfanz @jggykhug09090 @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @ashreblogsnow

[ode2rin]

your tequila lips is my idea of luxury

pairing. mikage reo x gn!reader

genre. fluff & university/college rom :D 

warnings/content. 4.1k+ wc | soccer team captain!reo (giggles) | mentions of alcohol, drinking, and drunken state | public kissing (don’t ask) | minimal proofread | me and my poor attempt of banter

in which: last night left you with three hazy memories — a dare, a kiss, and the name reo mikage

If college has managed to drill one thing into your head, it’s the gospel of abstaining from weekday drinking. After all, who in their right mind willingly marches to class with a pounding headache? Certainly not you.

But if there’s also one thing college didn't prepare you for, that is ignoring that one advice it drilled into you, and the golden rule of never, ever going against your own wisdom. 

If it did, then maybe you wouldn’t find yourself seated at the table of your kitchen dorm, your elbows resting heavily on its surface and your hands cradling your throbbing head, with your fingers pressed against your temples in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pounding sensation that is making you feel like it’s your last day on earth.

And to add a splash of more chaos to the mix, you feel like your headache intensified by tenfold at the absurdity of what your roommate just told you.

“I did fucking what now?”

“You kissed Reo at the party last night! Reo freaking Mikage!”

Yup, it’s definitely your last day on earth.

“ —and we squealed so loud! We never thought you had it in you to pull shit like that!” 

Well, you didn’t either.

“Hold on, talk slowly! I kissed him?!” 

Furrowing your brows, you attempt to process the bombshell your roommate just dropped on you. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot what happened last night!”

To say that your roommate did a poor job of filling you in on what atrocity happened last night is an understatement. The only thing you managed to register from the weirdly sequenced story were two things: kiss and Reo. 

And from there, the memories of last night came rushing back to you. 

Fucking hell.

You are damned, no doubt. Of all people, it had to be Reo Mikage. Are you even allowed to say that name so casually, even in your mind? That name drips gold and glory in every letter. He’s probably the richest guy on campus, the most famous (for sure), and on top of that, he’s the captain of the goddamn soccer team. Talk about a boring and plain college life he’s living. 

And to kiss that said man in a party for a dare? You’re doomed. You’re done for. You did the worst thing imaginable. 

You should’ve known better that nothing good comes out of college parties and dumb drinking games.

You made a lot of questionable decisions in your life, that you admit. But this one probably takes the top spot.

And it all started innocently enough – with a dare. 

The kind of dare that only seems like a great idea after a few too many shots. You had been the reigning champion of beer pong for as long as you could remember, and your friends decided it was high time to knock you down a peg. The stakes were set: a dare for a dare, and you were handed the ultimatum. Win the game or face the consequences.

But as fate would have it, your well-practiced skills crumbled under the pressure, and you found yourself facing the ultimate punishment—eight shots of tequila, back-to-back, in quick succession. 

Under typical circumstances, you could easily handle that quantity, but regular situations don't account for having a crucial presentation the following day. Eight shots? It's a nightmare, considering you've reached your limit.

And so, you found yourself stumbling through the crowd with only one goal in mind: redemption.

Or maybe it was the tequila that whispered that goal into your ear, urging you to prove yourself. It was hard to tell. 

And in that hazy state, your eyes had locked onto a figure that seemed to glow amidst the dim lights of the party. Reo Mikage, a name that resonated through campus like a melody, stood there, his presence magnetic and his smile dangerously alluring.

Without much thought, you approached the poseur table he was located at.

“Are you single?” you asked him the second you got close enough for him to hear. Fortunately, he wasn't surrounded by his usual crowd.

Now, what happened to ‘hello’? To ‘are you having fun?’ That question is too straightforward for a conversation starter, isn't it? 

“Yeah? Yes, I mean.” Reo replied, confusion evident in his tone.

“Okay good, listen.” Stepping closer, you caught him off guard, and he instinctively took a step back. His movement prompted a questioning look from you, tinged with a hint of concern because it was one step, yet he backed away for three. Little did you know, your proximity was affecting him more than the alcohol he'd consumed.

Undeterred and tequila-fueled, you continued. “I really don't want to drink those abominations in liquid form my friends dared me, so may you find it in your good heart to let me kiss the shit out of you so I’m saved.”

What the hell did he just hear? “Kiss the shit out of me…?”

“Yeah.” So, he heard you right. He’s not making it up. Good, he thinks.

“What do I get in return?”

“Lunch? My treat.” 

Did you just offer a multimillionaire heir a lunch and promise it's on you? At this point, you're not drunk — you're certifiably crazy.

“Hmm, sounds good. Alright, please do show me how the shit out of me can be kissed by you.”

In the face of his agreement, you rolled your eyes at his mocking tone. But there was no time for second-guessing; this was your moment.

Grasping the front of his shirt, you tugged him closer. You saw how his eyes widened at what you did before it broke out to a boyish grin. A breath passed, and then — the two of you collided.

In the electrified space between heartbeats, your lips found each other hungrily. His breath mingled with yours, a shared exchange of anticipation as your mouths moved in sync, exploring each other with an urgency that defied logic.

The taste of tequila still lingered, a faint reminder of the daring choice that had led you here. But it was the heat, the fervor, that consumed you both. Your bodies pressed together, the proximity sparking flames of need that danced through your veins.

His fingers found purchase at your waist, the touch igniting a trail of sensation that sent shivers down your spine. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, and a moan rose out of your throat as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth, a delicious tug that blurred the lines between who was kissing whom.

You pulled back from the kiss first, and a protest almost climbed Reo’s throat. But he knew better than to step in unwarranted, instead, he settled with savoring the image of your flushed state. Even in these neon blaring lights, Reo could discern your state with your heavy panting. Was it because of the alcohol? Or him? He hopes it’s the latter.

“That was… fuck. Thank your friends for the dare for me, yeah?”

And that’s how it all ended — with a kiss far from innocent.

Now here you are, nursing a splitting headache as you trudged across campus, textbooks clutched to your chest, trying to shake off the remnants of last night's debauchery. The taste of regret was heavy on your tongue—not just from the hangover, but from the events that led up to it.

In your slightly inebriated mind, the plan made sense. Kiss the hottest guy at the party, and you'd show your friends that you were up to the challenge. It was akin to hitting two birds with one stone: escaping the impending liquor onslaught and salvaging your pride. 

At the time, it sounded good – sounded like a winning strategy. But now? You want to bang your head against the wall for even thinking it made sense. And you’d do it if it weren’t for your phone buzzing in your pocket interrupting your self-loathing.

Last night for Reo was enchanting, to say the least. 

It was like a spark in the darkness, an unexpected surge of joy that he found himself smirking at the memory, reliving the sensation of your lips in his.

Last night might have been the spark, but it wasn't where it all began for Reo. 

Before you approached him at the party, he remembered you from freshman year. It was hard not to—especially when he recalled the exact moment. He perfectly remembers how you looked him dead in the eye and quipped,“Why waste your time on that sport if your aim is as off as a blindfolded archer? The goal's over there, genius. Not me.” after his supposed goal went astray and hit you in the back.

Well, he took that personally— word for word. And within a year, he had risen to become the best player on the team.

Now add that memory to the daring kiss you shared last night? There was no way Reo would be forgetting you anytime soon. He was now on a mission to make sure that you remembered him as vividly as he remembered you.

Good thing you owe him lunch, and an even better thing that he spotted you just now on a bench near the field he was on. He chuckled to himself at the coincidence, he wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. 

Reo, with his pragmatic and business-oriented mindset, was perhaps one of the last people on earth to put faith in notions like fate. But maybe he can make an exception to that philosophy if it’s you. 

Because right now, this whole thing felt like a mischievous wink from the cosmos, giving Reo a shot at something he had only dared to imagine. Wasting no more chances, he pulled out his phone.

[Today, 8:32 AM]

Is this Y/N?  This is Reo, by the way.

From his vantage point, he saw you reach for your phone immediately after he hit send. The widening of your eyes and the hint of surprise as you read his message didn't go unnoticed.

Cute. Peering down to his phone, he snorted with laughter at your response.

y/n: No. You’ve got the wrong number. [8:33 AM] Your friend confirmed it’s yours, though :P [8:33 AM] Also, I can see you typing. [8:34 AM]

Your eyes immediately scanned the whole field in search of the possible source of your college life’s impending doom. After a few seconds of looking with furrowed brows and a crinkled nose, there – you saw him, with his head slightly cocked to the side and his arms crossed over his chest, grinning at your display of reaction to his messages.

Your searching eyes transformed into bewilderment the instant he stood up, making his way toward you. Realizing that the two of you couldn’t be seen together under any circumstances to avoid igniting unnecessary gossip, your fingers danced over the screen of your phone, rapidly firing off messages that inundated his notifications.

y/n: what do you need are you trying to approach me stop right there stop walking!!!! everyone's looking i swear to god [8:37 AM]

Your frantic typing, however, seemed to make no impact. As if on a mission, Reo continued walking closer to you with the most annoyingly confident grin on his lips. His gaze was locked onto you, unwavering and undeterred.

Even from the distance that separates you two, you could make out what he was wearing. And you were damn sure, it was the sluttiest piece of clothing a man could wear.

The divine must really have its favorites, it seems. Because while you looked like hell had taken up residence on your head from last night’s festivities, he looked too sinful for a sunny morning in his compression shirt. 

No one should look that damn good at 8 AM—it's practically criminal and a slap in the face to regular college students like you.

As Reo closed the distance between you, you could practically feel the weight of all those curious eyes fixated on the scene. Were they looking at him? You? Or both? The thought alone made you want to sink into the ground and disappear.

“Hi.” 

Hi? You’re hyperventilating from the attention the two of you are getting and he quips a hi? 

“What do you need?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady amid the prying gazes of onlookers.

Reo's grin remained stubbornly intact, seemingly oblivious to the audience around you. “I’m here to collect a favor you owe me!” he declared with an enthusiasm that felt almost out of place in this surreal moment.

He can’t be seriously asking you to buy him lunch, right? What does he even eat? A5 Wagyu steak? There’s no way your student budget can afford that.

“I don’t remember owing you anything.”

“Really? I’ll remind you then, you offered to buy me lunch last night before you grabbed my collar and kissed m–”

“Finish that sentence, and lunch is not the only thing you’ll get from me.”

Your threat hung heavy in the air, your words loaded with a blend of annoyance and embarrassment that had settled on your cheeks.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” and yet, ever undeterred from your hostility, Reo's voice took on a smug, teasing tone that matched the twinkle in his eye.

This guy. “You're a bit annoying, don’t you think?”

“No, I don't think I am,” he countered, “And I also don't think that's how you should speak to someone who, and I quote, found it in their good heart to kiss you and save you from eight shots of tequila, though.”

Reo was on a mission, that much was clear. And quoting your exact words from last night seemed to be one of his tactics to ensure you remembered him and that kiss you shared. 

And lucky him, it looks like it’s working like a charm in which the telltale warmth in your cheeks revealed. Unfortunately for you, your simmering frustration combined with a throbbing headache could either launch you into a one-way ticket to expulsion or earn you a potential criminal record.

May the universe and all the saints grant you patience, because the overwhelming urge to wipe that damn grin off his face is slowly overtaking your senses.

You glanced at your watch, calculating whether you had enough time to wrap up your presentation before considering lunch. “Fine. Text me the location,” you conceded, your tone reluctantly agreeable. “I have a presentation to do first. I'll meet you there before noon.”

It might turn out to be a questionable financial decision to let him choose the lunch spot, but you were sticking to your word. You still owed him, after all.

“Sure. Good luck on your presentation. I’m sure you’ll devour the shit out of it.” 

His playful tone, quoting your own words again back at you, made your eyes roll in a mix of annoyance and flustered embarrassment.

Reo, on the other hand, seems like he’s having the time of his life with your reactions.

Someone can’t wait for lunch time, it seems. And clearly, that’s not you but a certain purple-haired.

If anyone were to observe Reo in this moment, they might easily mistake his fidgeting for the anxious prelude to a first Tinder meet up. Of course, that would be utterly absurd, considering he was simply awaiting someone's arrival, who happened to owe him a wholesome meal.

The little bell above the restaurant's entrance jingled, drawing Reo's attention like a magnet. 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you walk in, much to his surprise. Seemingly fresh and put-together now, you appeared quite different from the disarrayed figure he had spotted on the field earlier. 

Your smile, which now adorned your face as you exchanged pleasantries with the hostess, seemed to hint that your presentation had gone well, and perhaps the remnants of last night’s headache were subsiding.

Casually dressed yet carrying an air of understated confidence, you navigated the room with ease. His eyes followed you as you moved, taking in the subtle sway of your hair, the way your lips curved into polite smiles for familiar faces. He observed this scene unfolding before him, almost as if he were watching a scene from one of those romcom movies.

When your gaze finally settled on him, Reo could feel the heat making its way to his neck that he hoped his collar was hiding well.

The moment you settled into your seat, you wasted no time in addressing the metaphorical elephant in the room. “I’m sorry I put you in that position last night,” you blurted out.

Conversation starters were not your strong suit, Reo noted with an inward chuckle. Last night's shameless question was understandable, given the influence of alcohol, but in the clear light of day, your choice of conversation openers left much to be desired.

“It’s fine,” he replied with a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a faint smile of reassurance. He raised his left hand to catch the waiter's attention, subtly signaling for the menu. “Glad it was me, actually,” he mumbled more to himself than to you, his own unfiltered thought taking him by surprise.

“What?”

“What?”

Before you could even attempt to untangle the verbal knot, the waiter arrived with the menus, saving Reo from any further explanations. He observed as the waiter acknowledged you, a smile exchanged between you two. It seemed you were a regular here, and he found himself intrigued by yet another layer of your personality.

“You know him?” Reo inquired, nodding toward the departing waiter.

“Oh, I'm a regular here. It's my favorite place,” you explained with a hint of fondness.

“What are the chances? It's mine too.” 

Your eyes narrowed in playful disbelief, seemingly not buying the idea of someone like Reo enjoying a meal at a diner like this. “You?”

You admit you were surprised when he texted you of this place being his choice of dining. You were totally gearing up for him to suggest some fancy French or Italian joint where you'd need to take out a loan just to cover the bill. After all, people like him should be dining on caviar and foie gras. But then he texted you this choice, and maybe he's more down-to-earth than you thought. Or maybe he just knows where the good food is. It's hard to believe either, though.

Challenged, Reo insisted, “Yes. Me.”

“Alright, what are you having then? I’m ordering their famous pesto pasta—surely you know what that is, right?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Of course, I do.” Reo was basically lying through his teeth, at this point. But he couldn’t back down from his claim. And what? Admit that it's his first time here and the only reason he chose this was because he often sees you eating here? Not a chance.

“Why don’t you order for us then?”

With no turning back, he quipped, “Sure thing,” before signaling for a server. He sensed your amused gaze on him, and a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

“We’ll have two orders of your pesto pasta, please.”

“Uhm sir, we don’t serve pasta here.”

You let out a laugh, and Reo swears he could almost hear the birds chirping in the background.

Maybe a bit of embarrassment was a fair trade for that sound, he mused.

Lunch, for you, was not so bad and not quite the disaster you initially imagined.

Not until, out of nowhere, Reo brought up your embarrassing escapade from last night, “Was it because of that incident in freshman year that you approached me last night?”

“Freshman year?” you echoed, momentarily thrown off track. “Did we ever have a class together? Because I genuinely can't picture myself willingly signing up for economics or any finance-related course.”

“No, we didn't share any classes. And what's wrong with those courses? They're actually quite enjoyable.”

Yeah, if your idea of fun is spending hours deciphering graphs and balancing budgets. Enjoyable if you think that analyzing the stock market is the pinnacle of excitement.

“I don’t remember you from freshman year, though.” you admitted.

Reo's disbelief was palpable as he leaned back in his chair, a smug grin settling in. “You told me I suck at soccer a couple of years ago. Ring any bells? It was on the field.”

“I did fucking what now again?” You briefly questioned your past choices – or the lack of recollection thereof. Were you perpetually in a tipsy daze during your time at university? How could you miss every brash choice you made? Your brazen mouth could indeed get you into unforeseen trouble one day, that much is very clear.

“And here I was, thinking you kissed me on that dare as payback for me accidentally hitting you with a soccer ball.” Reo chuckled at your surprise, leaning back further.

“No,” you retorted, shaking your head slightly. “I did it because the dare was to kiss someone we found hot at the party.”

Oh. “So you think I’m hot?”

“My drunk self sure did.”

“Well, and what does your sober self think now?”

Clearly, this banter was a game both of you were more than willing to play. With a pointed gaze, you focused on Reo, a slow grin tugging at your lips. The effect on Reo was almost instantaneous—his throat cleared awkwardly, and his confident grin faltering.

“My sober self thinks my drunk self is absolutely right.” 

You infused the word ‘absolutely’ with a nonchalant drawl, noting the flush creeping up Reo’s cheeks. His composure seemed to waver, and he hastily reached for his drink, downing it within seconds. 

Satisfied that you managed to wipe his confident grin, you pressed on, “Are you blushing?”

“No,” Reo responded a bit too quickly, his voice a tad higher than usual. “It’s a bit hot in here.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” You chuckled at his flimsy excuse, your eyes catching the telltale shade of red tinting his ears and neck. Reo is easy to fluster as it is for him to do so, you noted. “Let’s get out of here, let me just pay.” 

Just as you were about to signal a waiter, Reo halted you with his words, “It’s done.”

“Done?”

“I gave them my card before you arrived.”

What the fuck. “But the favor…”

Reo's smirk reappeared, a gleam of triumph in those amethyst orbs. “Looks like you still owe me a date.”

“A lunch,” you corrected him, but Reo shrugged nonchalantly, a playful ‘same thing’ expression on his face.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he mimicked your tone, “Let me walk you to your next class.” He offered, rising from his seat as you did.

“Thank you, but absolutely no.”

“Why not?” 

Reo must be really oblivious to his fame, it seems. “Just because. Also, don’t you have practice?”

“I do, but ten more minutes with you sounds better.” 

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to charm you. “Are you slacking off, captain? Looks like my freshman self was right about your soccer skills after all.”

“I’m not slacking off, I just know my priorities.” and there it was again, that grin and that stare. Whether it was the tequila or just him, Reo really had a way of pulling you into his orbit.

Bashful, and at a loss for better retorts, you looked away. “Next time.”

“So there’s a next time, then?” he innocently asks, clearly fishing for another affirmation.

“Next time, I’m paying.” 

“Got that.” Reo mindlessly agreed. He’s just happy there’s a next time, honestly. “Let me walk you out, at least.”

Both of you left the restaurant, walking side by side in companionable silence. After a few moments, you decided to break the quietude that had settled between you.

“I guess we're parting ways here,” you remarked, your voice carrying a hint of finality.

Reo’s disappointment was evident, though he tried to mask it. “Sure. Thank you for the meal.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “What are you thanking me for? You paid for it.”

“Let me rephrase it then, thank you for introducing me to this place. I’ve clearly been missing out,” he beams.

“You're welcome, Mr. Fine Dining.”

As you walked a few steps ahead of Reo, you turned your head to look back at him, seemingly remembering something to tell him. “Oh, by the way,” you start, a teasing smile making its way to your lips, “I’m glad it was you too.”

With that, you took one last glance at his starstruck expression before parting ways, leaving him with a lingering smile.

Maybe something good does come out of stupid college parties and dumb drinking games – in the form of someone with enchanting smiles and magnetic purple eyes, that is.

And now, for sure, with or without the tequila haze, there’s not a single chance you’re forgetting Reo Mikage anytime soon. 

note. he makes me ill ( i love him very much and this is purely self-indulgent because i need him like air).

[nonotnolan]

Just Another Sunday

"Eric, what the hell happened to you?" He looked up from his phone with a confused look on his face, as if he hadn't suddenly transformed into a stacked muscle God. I couldn't help but start to hyperventilate a bit. Weird stuff had been happening all over town this week, but until now the three of us had been spared.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, pausing for a few moments before shifting back over to his phone.

"Like hell you don't!" I yelled, stomping across the Joey's kitchen to yell directly in his face. His casual body posture confirmed that I was still dealing with Eric, at least-- my self-survival instincts were telling me that yelling at a man this large was an easy way to get the shit kicked out of me. Joey, Eric, and I had been easy targets for bullies our whole lives. Or at least, we had been until whatever the hell just happened to Eric. "Something weird is going on! You suddenly gained 6 inches, two shades of skin tan, and god only knows how many pounds of muscle. Did you really not notice that happening?"

He laughed, ruffling the top of my head before speaking. "What do you mean I gained all this? C'mon, Bro. I've looked like this for years, you know that." His wide grin deflated a bit as I glared at him, unblinking. "Bro, you're freaking me out. I've always looked like this. Look, here's my camera roll. This is us just last week. Remember?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. Our friend Joey took this photo for us... only it was the two of us clutching our pudgy stomachs and making fun of everyone outside enjoying the last weekend of swimsuit weather. Now here was Eric, every bit as shirtless and as sexy as the people that we had been mocking.

"Seriously, Bro, you're freaking me out a little." Eric pressed the back of his palm against my forehead. "Seems like you might be running a fever or something. I think you'd better stay home and get some rest. I'll ask Master Joey if you can share my bed in his servant's quarters."

Hang on... Master Joey? Something about that didn't sound right. I tried to figure out why that phrase sounded so peculiar, but I was finding it a bit hard to concentrate on anything. It almost felt like a headache, but in a forgetful sort of way. "Hang on... why would I share your bed?" I asked him. "We both have beds in Master Joey's quarters. Something weird is going on. Pull up that photo again, would you?"

We looked at the photo of me and Eric enjoying the Hot Tub one last time before swimsuit season was over. Master Joey loved taking photos of his servants and their masculinity-- all of our phones had tons of photos like this in our camera roll. Why had I been freaking out earlier?

"Sorry, Eric, I'm not sure what's wrong with me," I said, rubbing my hand over my head. Feeling the buzzed stubble always helped calm me down. Well, that and working out at the gym, but that wasn't really an option right now.

"Don't sweat it, Bro," he said, thumping me on the back. "I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow. Anyway, it's time for our evening progress pic for Master Joey." Eric set up the timer on his phone while I peeled back my tank top. Master Joey loved getting pictures of our hot bodies each night, and we loved knowing that our master would masturbate himself to sleep at the thought of us.

A thought crossed my mind. "Hey Eric... is there any reason we don't let Master Joey have sex with us every night?

He laughed, thumping me on the back a few more times. "You know, it's funny... I was just thinking the same thing. Having Master Joey's cock up my ass actually sounds pretty nice. Should we make that our new evening ritual?"

"I think we should," I said, nodding in agreement. What was the point in having such a plump and meaty ass if no one was going to use it? And anyway, it was the least we could do for the man who allowed us to serve under him. Weird stuff has been happening all over town this week. It's a relief to know that Master Joey will always keep us safe.

[lost-in-lamentation]

more of you.

a/n: self indulgent fic today because i've been borderline sick these days and i literally cannot afford to be sick right now (so i'm pushing my illness onto MC)

content: mammon's not great at taking care of sick people, but he'd do it for you anyway.

non-established relationship. pining mammon. sick fic.

fluff. comfort. mammon × gen!reader. 1k words.

the first sign was the persistent headache that had been following you since the night before. of course, not wanting to miss your classes at RAD, you blamed it on the combination of too much caffeine and not enough rest. you practically dragged yourself to RAD, ignoring the second sign of dizziness while you walked. by the end of your first class, your headache had grown into a full blown migraine, much to your disappointment. you didn't even register the fact that the lecture had ended until mammon had his face hovering dangerously close to yours.

"oi, human. why's your face all red?"

you groaned and waved him away from you, slowly starting to pack away your things. "it's not red," you muttered.

mammon drew back with a click of his tongue, hands on his hips while he looked you up and down. "liar," the demon retorted, poking at your forehead. "jeez, you're all hot too. this doesn't feel normal."

"maybe i've just always been hot." you hissed at mammon's hand, the touch on your forehead hard enough to send the room spinning.

mammon scoffed at you, shoving his hands into his pockets while turning to leave the classroom. "i didn't mean it like that- stop thinking weird stuff!"

you would have laughed if you had the energy, but with the way your head was pounding, you didn't have it in you to do anything. with shaky legs, you pushed yourself up out of your chair, trying your best to stumble towards the doorway. you crashed into doorframe with a loud thud, landing on the floor seconds later with your head in your hands. despite your blurry vision, you saw the white haired demon rushing back towards you, his panicked voice ringing in your ears. "mammon?"

"what the hell's wrong with ya?!"

when you felt him crouch in front of you, you acted without thinking straight (not that you really could), reaching up to wrap your arms his neck. "don't feel good," you mumbled into his shoulder, slumping against his torso.

"oh, now you're admitting it," mammon growled at you. "and stop clinging to me!"

you shook your head as much as you could without making it hurt worse. "you're too loud, my head hurts."

the avatar of greed inhaled deeply, stopping himself from shouting any more. "why'd i have to be put in charge of ya in the first place?" begrudgingly, mammon hoisted you up into his arms, one arm locked under your knees and the other close to your waist. the last thing you heard before knocking out was mammon calling for one of his brothers down the hall.

when mammon finally made it back to the house of lamentation, he debated kicking the door off its hinges just to get inside, but quickly changed his mind when he remembered he still owed lucifer money for the last time he did it. he was also afraid he'd wake you up in the process, but that wasn't a real reason, he had told himself. instead, mammon shifted you in his arms so he had just enough leeway to turn the doorknob. he repeated the same process when he got to your bedroom, finally clicking the door open and shuffling over to place you down on your bed. after making sure you were still breathing, mammon turned away, ready to leave. he wasn't good with taking care of others, let alone a sick human; but when he took another look at you, dishevelled and almost helpless, mammon felt something in his stomach churn. the demon began his way back to your side, tentative fingertips brushing away the hairs that had started to stick to your forehead.

mammon frowned at the feeling, knowing that you usually never ran this hot. he only knew that because he poked at you often, and not because he had tried (and failed) to hold your hand on multiple occasions. the eldest brother had ordered mammon to come back to RAD if nothing else needed to be done, but mammon decided that maybe the human needed his care just this once.

he wasn't confident in his abilities, but he had seen what to do once while watching an anime over leviathan's shoulder. and so, mammon left your room for a few minutes, returning with a bucket of cool water and a small towel in hand. as carefully as he could, he pushed you further onto your bed so he could sit on the edge by your side. the towel, now damp, was placed onto your forehead moments after, accompanied by mammon draping a blanket over your now trembling figure. "what's your deal, getting sick all of a sudden…" mammon talked to himself every few minutes, constantly replacing the towel as it needed to be replaced. "get better already so we can go hit the casino. or somethin'." internally, mammon wished he was better at enchantments so that he wouldn't have to keep switching out the towel. the idea that satan or lucifer would be better at taking care of you made his blood boil.

the longer he stared at your face, the more his own heated up, the blush on his cheeks beginning to match yours. "so rude, ya won't even talk to me right now. if ya think getting sick gives ya an excuse, it doesn't. just so ya know!"

softly, the pads of his fingertips began to wander along your face, tracing your jaw and dancing over your cheeks lightly. a part of mammon had always wondered what it'd be like to hold your face in his hands. with a sigh, mammon pulled the towel off your forehead and dipped it into the bucket.

"it's not fair, human," he said under his breath, swirling the water with a hand. "when did i start wanting you more than anything else?"

he gazed at you longingly, setting the cloth down on your bedside table before scooting closer to you. slowly, he leaned in towards you, taking a shaky breath for courage before pressing his lips to the crown of your head. being greed incarnate, mammon wanted more of this, more of you, but he held back, not wanting to ruin what he had with you already. he pulled away from you, but couldn't get far before leaning down again and pressing his forehead to yours.

"one day," mammon murmured onto your skin, stroking your cheek delicately as he placed the towel back in its rightful place.

a/n: when i get sick and delirious i immediately just want mammom tbh

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 5. Lose control.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

When she returned to her room, it felt empty. Everything she had just seen, the man's words... it all echoed in the walls of her battered mind.

She was still damp, though the warmth from the fireplace and Logan had shielded her from the cold of the lake. The warmth from Logan. She hugged herself, trying to comfort the pain of not being in contact with him. It had been his presence that pulled her out of that whirlwind of anguish and pain.

Her head throbbed, and she could still feel the ghost of electrical impulses at her fingertips. With a heavy heart, she dragged herself toward the bathroom connected to her room, but when she touched the doorknob, the rustling of the sheets stopped her.

She felt selfish for not wanting to face what was coming, but she didn’t have the strength.

“Oh God, Mia, what happened to you?”

She didn’t turn around; she only glanced over her shoulder as Scott got out of bed, hurrying toward her.

“Nothing, I was sleepwalking and ended up in the lake, that’s all.”

“The lake? What…”

She squeezed her eyes shut as he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. A thought flashed through her mind. I’m tired of not being able to see what’s in your eyes. She pushed it away immediately, because it wasn’t fair to him.

“I just need a hot shower, Scott. I’m exhausted.”

“Mia, you can’t show up soaking wet and expect me not to worry.”

She raised her hands to put distance between them and saw his face contort in pain. She knew she was pushing him away, and her actions were creating an abyss between them.

“I’m really fine. Logan helped me out of the water, so he’s…”

“Logan?” His voice turned cold, distant. “What the hell was he doing there with you?”

Saving me from myself while you didn’t even notice I was gone. She bit her tongue, not wanting to say it, but she couldn’t stop.

“He saw me leave the house, and when I didn’t answer his calls, he got worried.”

“Worried?” The venom in Scott’s words made her frown. She didn’t know where this was coming from. He crossed his arms, and a look of disbelief spread across his face.

Mia rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache that was making it hard to be more understanding with her partner.

“Scott, I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t have the energy. Please. I’ll deal with your jealousy tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line when she realized what she had said. She had no control over her words and didn’t understand where this bitterness was coming from. He just wants to understand and help.

“My jealousy… Sorry I don’t understand what’s happening. This guy shows up, confronts you in your classroom, and then turns up saving you when you’re fainting and pulling you out of frozen lakes. Mia, you don’t even know him. What’s going on?”

She felt weak for a moment as the truth in his words hit her. Tears filled her eyes, and she felt foolish for wanting to cry while arguing with someone she cared about. The silence that followed her words was worse than any shout. In that emptiness, everything was falling apart. And when she finally found her voice, it was broken.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. And it terrifies me.” She struggled to find the words to describe what she was feeling. “There’s something… inside me that isn’t right, Scott. I can’t control it, I can’t rein it in, and I’m afraid it’ll come out and destroy everything.”

Scott’s features softened, and he tried to reach out to her, but she recoiled, as if fearing her own pain was contagious. She saw something break in his eyes.

“I’ve tried to tell you, to explain that I’m not myself anymore and that Charles isn’t giving me answers, and your stance was to defend him. You didn’t even consider that I might be right.” The dam holding back her tears broke, and she began to sob, hurt. “I tried to come to you, and you downplayed it.”

Scott’s face darkened again.

“Mia, I didn’t downplay it. I just said you had no reason to distrust Charles. He’s never given you one. But you throw yourself into the arms of a stranger.”

The mutant’s frustration caused the lights in the room to flicker. Inside her, a surge of anger and rage ignited, feeding her wilder side, the one that had shattered the lake ice in a burst of power. She felt the atmosphere grow heavy and the ghost of energy in her limbs.

“You’re an idiot, Scott. You’ve always been the Professor’s lapdog. You’ve never even considered disobeying him. ‘Cyclops, do this,’ ‘Summers, handle that,’ ‘Scott, keep the broken girl occupied.’”

“What? Mia, Charles never told me… What I feel for you is real.”

She knew it was true and that she was being cruel to him, but she couldn’t stop. Once again, she had lost control that night.

“If I’ve thrown myself into someone else’s arms, it’s because they didn’t treat me like a damn broken toy. Like something to be cared for and manipulated carefully for fear of it breaking. Scott, I’m not who you thought I was.”

The lights flickered again, and he tried to approach her, but he stepped back when he felt a small shock pass through him.

“We’ll fix this, we’ll find the answer, together. Just like always, okay?”

She wanted to say yes, to stop everything and hug him. She really wanted to trust his words. But the one now trying to break free was her, seeing everything from within, unable to access her body. The beast had taken control and was trying to spread the same pain she felt. She pounded against the wall that held her back but couldn’t return.

“There’s nothing to fix, Scott. I’m not the person you fell in love with anymore.”

“Mia, you’re always going to be that person, no matter what. I don’t understand how everything changed in less than two days, how…”

He saw her eyes light up with an unnatural color, and the words died in his mouth. He somehow knew he was no longer speaking to his girlfriend, that something else had taken her place.

“It didn’t change in just two days, and you thinking that proves me right.” Small flashes of light streaked across her body, wild and uncontrolled. “I’ve always been holding back who I really am to fit into the image you’ve designed for me, but I’m tired of feeling weak.”

He couldn’t respond, unable to find the words to bring her back, to ease her pain.

“Because you think I’m weak, don’t you, Scott? Always being a half-person, always exhausted from keeping part of myself locked away, away from everything so I don’t hurt anyone. Fainting at the slightest provocation because I don’t have the energy to be who I am.”

He extended a hand toward her and wanted to pull back, though she didn’t. Despite everything, he still believed the girl he loved would never hurt him.

“Well, I’m going to show you just a tiny part of what I feel.”

He sensed Mia’s presence in his head. Raw, wild, and damaging. He clutched his head as if trying to soothe the pulsing pain it was causing, and when he finally let it in, the air tasted of fear. His breath caught when terror and confusion struck him. He felt a bubble of anguish in his chest threatening to burst and destroy everything in its path. And beneath it all, an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He fell to his knees in front of her, and tears he couldn’t hold back appeared beneath his glasses.

Mia thrashed within her own mind. She hammered against the mental barrier trapping her and with one final push, she emerged into the light. She immediately cut off the connection with Scott and knelt with him on the floor. Gently, she hugged him and let the spasms of her crying overtake her. With mechanical movements, the mutant wrapped her arms around him, still in shock from what she had felt.

“I had no idea…”

She shook her head, not wanting him to say anything. She clung to him, but didn’t find the peace she had found in other arms. She remained a whirlwind of fury and pain but swallowed it.

“I’m so sorry, Scott. I can’t… I’m not able to… Not anymore.”

He nodded, trying to understand what had happened in such a short time. A clear name appeared in his mind, the one responsible for all the unleashed chaos. Logan.

The room fell silent after Mia’s words, her apology’s echo hanging in the air like a heavy presence. They both remained motionless, her on her knees in front of him, Scott still holding her as if that physical contact could mend what was broken between them. But the electricity in the atmosphere made it impossible.

Mía was frozen, every fiber of her body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and regret. But beneath that wall of emotions, she felt something else: an abyss, dark and unknown, a growing chasm between who she was and what she was meant to be. She knew there was no turning back.

Scott was the first to move. He rose slowly, loosening his grip on her and stepping away. The weight of disappointment was unmistakable on his face, despite his attempts to mask it behind his usual firmness. He didn’t say a word as he took a step back, and she felt the coldness seep into the space where his warmth had been.

He took a deep breath, as if searching for strength to continue. Then he spoke, his voice tense and barely controlled.

“I don’t understand what’s happened to you, Mía. I don’t recognize you anymore…” His voice trembled, frustration and pain struggling to break through. “I thought we were in this together, that we could get through anything. But every day you seem further away. And now…” Silence enveloped him, unable to finish the sentence. He turned completely, facing away from her, as if he couldn’t bear to face her any longer.

She watched him in silence, knowing that any words she said would only make things worse. She had come too far to turn back, and though a part of her wanted to scream at him not to leave, another part knew this was the end. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when her inner world was falling apart. She had lost him, and with him, she had lost a part of herself.

“I need time, Scott. I need to find out who I am… before it’s too late.” Her voice came out in a whisper, almost imperceptible, but the words were final. She knew there was no going back.

He nodded, though he didn’t look at her.

“Find out who you are in Logan’s arms,” he replied finally, his voice now empty, lacking the warmth it used to have. “Maybe you need to separate from me so the guilt doesn’t eat you up inside.”

Mía felt her heart sink at his words, but she said nothing more. The distance between them had grown too great, and she didn’t know how to bridge it. He stood still for a moment longer before walking toward the door. He paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob, and turned his head slightly, as if about to say something. But the words never came. Instead, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, leaving Mía alone in the dim light.

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of solitude pressed down on her like a leaden slab, crushing her. She tried to hold back her tears, but the tension and sadness overwhelmed her. She sobbed, letting her body shake under the pressure of everything she had been holding back. But the tears didn’t last long; there was something deeper that tears couldn’t heal.

The flickering of the lights returned, a constant reminder of her inability to control what was happening inside her. Sparks flew through the air, small discharges racing around the room, mirroring her inner turmoil.

She slowly got up, stumbling towards the window. The view offered a white, cold, empty landscape, just like how she felt inside. She had broken something in her relationship with Scott, she knew, and now she had to face what came next. Her mind turned to Logan. The memory of his warmth, his unyielding presence at the lake, his ability to understand her without even needing words. But even that was uncertain.

The icy wind stirred the bare branches outside the mansion. A shiver ran down her spine. She was tired of feeling incomplete; she wanted to feel as strong as she had at the lake, needed more. She couldn’t stop the feelings that surged in her head and overwhelmed everything. Once again, she saw her world from a third-person perspective, as if her body didn’t belong to her. I’ll find answers, one way or another. There was that wild, raspy voice that she struggled to recognize as her own. She howled a denial, but she couldn’t stop that beast.

She wiped her tears away with a swipe and took a deep breath, feeling the cold from the window giving her strength. With determined steps, she left the room. She walked through the empty hallways of the mansion, her mind focused on one thing. She tracked the minds in the mansion until she found the one she was looking for. That uncontrolled tangle of thoughts that oozed pain. She followed it to its source.

She reached the door leading to the wing where Logan usually stayed. She hesitated for a second before raising her hand and knocking, her other side struggling to regain control. The hollow sound reverberated in the silence, and she waited.

“Come in,” Logan’s deep, gruff voice called from inside.

She entered the room, closing the door behind her without a word. Logan was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, extinguishing his cigarette with a casual gesture. As she walked in, he noticed a change in her posture, in her expression. Mía’s gaze, usually intense but controlled, was now fierce and determined, as if a storm was about to break inside her.

“Let’s get started,” she said, her voice rougher than usual, carrying an urgency that brooked no argument.

She advanced towards him with determination, but inside, the conflict was palpable. The voice of reason ceased to fight for a moment, distracted by the almost magnetic attraction she felt towards him. Her darker side, now governing her thoughts, lulled her in the deepest part of her mind, using the mutant’s presence to silence her. The desire to find answers in Logan’s memories, to dig into his mind, was irresistible. But to do that, she had to envelop him, capture his full attention.

Logan frowned. Something in her tone, in the energy emanating from her, made him hesitate. He stood up, as if trying to assert his presence and regain control of the situation.

“What’s going on, Mía?” he asked, trying to stay firm.

But before he could react, her darker side had already taken control. She gently pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, her legs wrapping around his sides, her body taking possession of his. The closeness, the warmth of her skin, the scent that seemed to envelop everything around him… it all washed over him like an unstoppable wave.

Logan tried to speak, but his words drowned in the tense air. His mind, always alert, began to fade under the weight of the sensations. The touch of her skin, the warmth of her body on his… it was as if, for the first time in a long while, something inside him relaxed. Suddenly, he felt Mía’s presence in his head, persistent. This time, it wasn’t painful, but rather the opposite.

As she delved deeper into his mind, her presence in the space grew more intense. Her essence, her scent, everything that was Mía, amplified in his head, surrounding him completely. Logan began to breathe harder, his body tense. The bond between them was rising to a level he had never experienced with anyone. He didn’t just feel Mía’s mind in his, but also her physical essence, every beat of her heart, every emotion that coursed through her skin.

The scent of rain, an electric buzz in the air, the heat of her presence. He closed his eyes, fighting to stay grounded. What he’d initially felt for her was now mingling with something deeper, a connection that overwhelmed him, something he struggled to handle. He knew he shouldn’t let things progress, but the intensity of what was happening had him on edge.

His muscles tensed; the control he’d always maintained over himself was slipping away with the touch she had begun to trail through his hair. He felt her in every sense, wrapping around him, making the need to touch her unbearable. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Mía’s mind was a storm in his own, and his body was responding to it in a primal, urgent way. It wasn’t just physical attraction; there was something about her calling to him in a way he couldn’t rationalize.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his self-control was cracking. But beneath all that comfort, something wasn’t right. There was something in the way she looked at him, how her hands rested on his shoulders—it was too... intense. There was more in her eyes than simple attraction. It was a dangerous mix of desire and control.

Logan, confused, let the moment wash over him, but when his thoughts briefly wandered to Scott, something didn’t fit.

“What’s up with Summers?” he asked abruptly, trying to snap back to reality, his words slicing through the silence. It didn’t seem like Mía to be with him like this, at least not while she was still with Scott. But he got no answer. Her gaze darkened, her expression hardened for a moment, as if something inside her had broken. That lack of response made him realize there was more behind this moment.

“Scott?” she finally replied, her voice barely a whisper, running her nails through her hair. She tried to look innocent and almost smiled with satisfaction when she noticed a growl escaping from his throat. She almost had him.

That brief pause was enough for a spark of doubt to ignite in Logan. Something inside him, buried under the layers of sensations Mía had invoked, began to awaken. The question about Scott had started as a casual curiosity, but now, in light of her lack of response, it began to take on a different form in his mind. This wasn’t like her, and for the first time, he started to think that her state wasn’t the result of a simple decision.

The air between them grew thick.

“Mía...” he tried again, this time in a softer tone, trying to reconnect with the part of her he knew.

But she wouldn’t let him finish. She couldn’t lose this battle now, not when she could feel his memories at her fingertips. She leaned in, her lips barely brushing his, and Logan felt the clash of his desires mingled with a darkness that enveloped him. The warm breath on his skin drove him mad, shattering the chains with which he had held back the part of him that had been yearning for her since the first time he touched her in the Danger Room. His body reacted before his mind could sort things out. It was a kiss charged with everything she could offer, a kiss that ensnared him in the same darkness she was falling into.

Logan closed his eyes, letting the emotions engulf him. For a moment, everything felt right. Feeling complete, feeling needed—something he had never fully experienced before. But... there was something else. A bitter aftertaste to it all, as if behind that fullness lay a trap. Anger began to rise from deep within him, but it wasn’t directed at her—it was at what was happening.

Logan struggled to turn his head away, breathing deeply, trying to regain some control.

“This isn’t you, Mía...” he said softly, with that deep yet reassuring voice he always had.

The anger bubbled inside her, tired of people telling her who she should be. For a moment, both versions of her agreed on something—the frustration of being told who to be. She didn’t even know the answer herself; how dared they think they did.

Mía kissed him again, this time with more force, with a passion that came from the depths of her being. She bit his lip with intensity, and Logan had to stifle a groan. He pulled her closer, feeling that the contact between them wasn’t enough. He needed more. The kiss was intense, raw, as if every cell in her body was pouring its desire into him, pushing every boundary.

Through the mental link they shared in that moment, Mía allowed Logan to feel what she was feeling. She wanted him to see her desire, to understand that she wanted him, that this wasn’t just manipulation. But in her haste, in her desperate attempt to distract him, she made a mistake. Unintentionally, she loosened her grip on her rational side, and the girl’s awareness let slip an alert to the mutant, despite the fact that she was enjoying the moment as much as he was. It allowed him to glimpse, even if for a second, that yes, she was using him. That part of her, the part struggling to control everything, saw him as a means to her own ends.

Logan, bewildered by the torrent of emotions and sensations, tried to process it. He felt Mía’s burning desire, but also the cold sting of betrayal. The mix of both shook him, but before he could react, Mía intensified the moment. She used her powers to dig her nails into his back, opening wounds that healed immediately. Logan gasped, enveloped by so many sensations. The blend of pleasure and pain clouded his judgment, and he was on the verge of giving in, of letting his more primal side surface as well.

Finally, with all the willpower he could muster, Logan pulled his face away from hers, breaking the kiss. His breathing was ragged, and his body trembled, still responding to the storm of sensations Mía had unleashed in him. With a low growl, he managed to gently push her back, breaking the physical contact that kept him tethered to her.

“Mía, stop...” His voice was rough, but there was a mix of pleading and determination in it. The look he gave her was intense, a mix of desire and suppressed anger. He couldn’t deny that what she was doing affected him, tempted him, but Logan wasn’t someone who would be dragged along easily.

She looked at him with frustration in her eyes, almost defiant, but there was something more. She knew Logan had seen part of the truth. She knew that, despite her desire, she had let him see her other side, the one that used him for her own ends. And that threw her off balance.

Still trembling, she tried to maintain control over herself, over the situation. She brought a hand to her face, as if trying to remove an invisible mask that was choking her. She wanted to continue, to hold on to that control, but she was now aware of how difficult it was becoming.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice breaking, but her hand trembled as it left his back and stroked her hair. Logan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew there was something profound between them, but he also understood that she was torn between her desire and that part of her that controlled her, pushing her to do things she didn’t fully understand.

“You don’t need to do this,” he murmured, placing his hands over hers to stop her. There was no aggression in his gesture, just a firmness indicating that he wouldn’t be dragged along.

The weight of those words fell on them with an intensity he hadn’t expected. She felt his darker side slowly retreating, but not because she wanted it to, but because Logan was demanding it. It was hard to maintain control. It was like an internal current fighting to take over, but every time he looked at him, with eyes full of pain and understanding, something inside her broke a little more.

“It’s easier this way...” she whispered, not sure if she was speaking the truth or just trying to justify what she had done. But the phrase sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“It’s not, Mía.” Logan’s voice was firm, though there was a trace of vulnerability in it. It pained him to see her like this, caught in that internal struggle, and it moved him to want to help her, not just because of the desire he felt, but because of something deeper. A connection that, though he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t ignore.

She finally gave in. She couldn’t keep fighting, not against this. She felt she was losing, not just the internal battle, but something more valuable. The control she had longed for was slipping away, and with it, the darkness that had dominated her every move began to dissipate, slowly, painfully.

Tears started to flow from her eyes before she could stop them. Everything she had tried to hold back was now spilling out. She sobbed uncontrollably, burying her face in Logan’s chest, seeking refuge in the only place she had left.

Logan held her without saying a word. There were no words that could comfort her in that moment, but his warmth, his presence, were enough. He felt Mía’s body shaking, her breathing slowing, until gradually, exhaustion overcame her.

And there, in the mutant’s arms, Mía fell asleep, as he held her close, determined not to let her sink any deeper into the darkness that tormented her so much.

[captain-mj]

Og Soapghost?? Maybe with bottom og Ghost?

I was talking about a god x human au in my discord recently and this felt like the perfect time to use it!

Ghost couldn't feel much in his body anymore. It hurt. He knew that. But it was so distant.

A man forced him forward and he could feel spikes of feelings through his body that were vaguely like pain. Rivulets of blood and sweat went down his body.

They made him kneel. People were speaking, but he couldn't understand over the drugs pumping through his body. It was pounding through him.

Roba stood in front of him. Knife in hand. "May your soul suffer for eternity. You could've avoided this. If you just... listened. " He looked a little sad. "Such a fucking waste."

It was a relief. To die. A moment of nothingness that made all of it disappear. The ache in his body. All the pain. Gone.

Then it hit him. Pain in a way he'd never felt before. Vibrating through his body.

He laughed a little because somehow, still not as bad as his dad.

His body spiraled further down despite it not feeling like he really moved.

Ghost hit something soft and sank down into puddles of fabric. Where they touched his skin, everything was fine. No pain. Not even from his mortal wounds. It was all just okay.

Strangely, he found himself falling asleep. The dead shouldn't sleep, Ghost felt, but he fell into it all the same.

This had been an expected turn of events. Eventually, Ghost was sure that Roba would kill him and go to hell. It felt expected at least.

All of that led to him waking up in a bed though. A bed with such soft sheets Ghost wondered if they were made of pure silk or Egyptian cotton. They ran through his fingers like water.

His skin looked.... clean. After seven months of the only shower he got being from rainwater leaking into his cell, it was... confusing. To not just be clean, but be... pristine. Even his nails were cleaned up. No longer broken and chipped with blood encrusted into them.

The robe he was wrapped in was similar. Fancy and the perfect amount of coziness. Ghost's body was... pleasant to be in. The aching in his right shoulder from where his dad had yanked him too hard as a child, the harsh ripped feeling with his ribs, even the dull throbbing of his head from dehydration, all gone.

It was startling.

He took stock of his body first, seeing he very much still had wounds, he just couldn't feel them.

The room was plain. Carpeted with soft rugs though. It was a very pleasant temperature. All of the furniture inside had been nailed or screwed into the floor. The only thing in the room that Ghost could hypothetically pick up and use for a weapon was the robe he had on, his only clothing, or a lamp. The lamp itself was not where most of the light in the room was coming from. It wasn't... very clear actually where all the light was coming from. Even the shadows seemed unsure about it, with some moving severely one way and gently in others. Some objects had two or three shadows, none of which made sense.

Ghost had a weird sensation like he should have a headache but didn't.

A man came in. Ghost's height, but just a smidge shorter. Broad shouldered and striking blue eyes and a mohawk that looked oddly out of place.

Blood. It soaked him. His clothes and face and there were clots in his hair.

"Yer awake." The thickness of his accent and the strangeness of the situation meant Ghost needed a second to really understand him.

"Yes."

"Soap."

Ghost stared at him before he continued. "My name is Soap. You're name is Simon."

"Prefer Ghost." He responded quickly now and he said it seconds before he sent the useless lamp hurtling at Soap's head. It smashed into him and Ghost felt the impact like it had hit him. Pain lanced through him and although it was a familiar type of pain, it still made him choke out a noise from the shock of it.

Soap moved closer, unharmed. Smiling. "My dear Simon. While I find that very amusing, I recommend you don't try to hurt me, okay, mo chridhe?"

Ghost blinked at the man, head spinning even faster. He gingerly felt his face for any soreness, but there was nothing. Just...himself.

Soap was in front of him. He gently started to reach for him before stopping, bloody fingers about to dirty Ghost. Immediately, he pulled back. "You don't know me... personally. But you and I have a very long history together."

Ghost stared at him blankly.

"I apologize for my state. A sacrifice? To the concept of pain? Of suffering? Well, it doesn't happen as often as you might think. And there's a lot of things, gods, spirits, concepts that wanted you. But I could never, ever, let them have you." Soap spoke like his words were honeyed.

Ghost had been in hunting in Canada the first time a mountain lion had observed him. It had been the same feeling. Same fear.

"Now, I know you must be nervous. Scared. That's okay. You can be those things." Soap smiled. Dazzling. Beautiful. It hurt to look directly at it. "But please know and understand that I will never, ever hurt you again."

Again?

Ghost tried to string words together. He needed to ask a question, but what would be the right one?

Soap turned. "I'm going to go wash up. Stay here. Rest. You look tired."

Ghost had just woken up. He did not feel tired. He only felt the fabric against his skin. "Where am I?" Not a good enough question.

Soap smiled. "You are in... well. Heaven isn't quite right. Neither is hell. Human souls do not come here often. But you are safe. I'd level the world. Destroy anything that came into my path. Before I let another being lay their hands on you."

Ghost knew he was telling the truth. Instinctively and viciously. His body started to get colder and he wrapped himself in the blanket as he watched Soap walk away from him. There was the sound of water.

Ghost ran for the door. He tried to get it open. It wasn't locked. It just... wouldn't move. He yanked harder and used all of his strength, feeling it just barely creak. Like a cat, he clawed at the door, trying to get it to just fucking budge.

The water shut off and Ghost fled back to bed to pretend he had stayed in the same spot.

Soap was... handsome. He reminded Ghost of someone he knew from high school.

"How do we know each other?"

Soap didn't look happy. "I am a god."

"My mom was protestant and my dad was atheist and I really doubt the Christian God is Scottish."

Soap grinned dangerously. "Why? Think he's a Brit?"

"No. He'd be Jewish. Seeing as Jesus was Jewish. So. Let's say I believe you." "You should." "Which I don't, what are you the god of?"

"Pain. Anguish. Suffering. At the hands of a parent usually but not always."

"Oh."

"So you know me well. Unfortunately. You're not the person to go through the most pain. Shocking, I know. You're in the top ten. But... it was the past few years where you caught my interest."

Ghost stared at him. "Wasn't conveniently when I turned 18 and therefore it's legal was it?" It was a shit joke. One mostly done to throw Soap off. To try to get him to stop staring at him the way he did.

"Nah. You were actually 20 already. You put yourself through more pain and I was there again. I saw you again. And you had... filled out. Got taller. Older I should say. You were... gorgeous." Soap looked at him with literal hearts around him. They formed out of smoke.

Ghost didn't want to know what he considered his love language. If it was anything like what he was, Ghost imagined the next eternity living in agony with the promise of love hanging above his head.

"I see."

"Yes. I will admit that I'm wretched."

"You could've stopped it?"

"No. Not at all. You think I like letting children get hurt? Never. But I am the god of pain and anguish so I am there. I watch and I tip the scales and when I can, I bring karmic justice. But right now, I am wretched for not stopping you from being killed. But Simon, you must understand that I simply wanted to protect you. Now I can. Now I can bring you to my bed. Love you properly."

Ghost felt the floor fall from beneath him. His panic must've been clear on his face.

"Not right now." Soap said it so loudly it made Ghost flinch. He quickly dropped the volume. "For now, it is more than enough to know you are... safe. Unable to feel pain. Within my reach, though not in my grasp yet." He reached forward, fingers gently touching Ghost's cheek. It sent such a visceral feeling through Ghost. His nerves reacted. The touch drowning everything out.

It lingered far longer than it should.

"You're tired, aren't you?"

Ghost gasped, trying to find air for his lungs. "Wait."

"Just rest. Your body is so damaged. It's going to take so much time to stitch you together, but I promise I will do it with all the love and care needed." Soap took consciousness away from Ghost. Gently, careful to let him drift into it. Like threads.

Ghost woke up with most of his wounds healed or healing. They did not all heal cleanly, leaving scars, but they were done. Not even tender.

Soap slept next to him, slowly breathing in and out.

Ghost tried to escape again, scrambling at the door. He so desperately wanted to get out of there. To get confirmation this was fake.

"The door only opens for Gods." Soap mumbled from where he was in the blankets. "Come back to bed, Simon."

"Don't call me that. Whatever bullshit you're using to make this door act like this is probably some stupid trick. Something heavy on the other side."

Soap got up and walked over. "You think you're about as strong as I am right?"

"Probably."

Soap opened the door with ease. There was nothing on the other side but hallways. And a few cats. "Easy, peasy. You're human. My human. So it won't open for you."

Ghost watched Soap close the door. No latching, no locks. He tried to open it and it wouldn't budge. He kept asking for Soap to open it again, trying to find the trick to it. Soap was infinitely patient.

Soap put his hand on the knob. "Turn it."

Ghost turned and opened the door. Easily. He tried again with just his hand. Nothing. The knob was too old to have any fingerprint technology or some other tech thing.

Ghost looked at Soap who just shrugged. "Told you. If you want to go outside, we can go."

"Yes. I'd... like that."

Soap nodded. "You shouldn't go out in just a robe. Let me get you clothing."

Ghost nodded and watched Soap go to a door that hadn't been there before. He got clothing out and got on his knees, helping Ghost who followed the silent orders automatically.

Soap offered his arm.

"No." Ghost was not going to hang off him like arm candy. "I'll walk next to you."

Soap frowned. "Simon."

"No."

"It's to keep you safe. How about we hold hands?"

"No. Don't touch me."

Soap sighed. "I can't say no to you. Just stay close. If someone takes you away, they might hurt you."

Ghost did stay close to Soap. Mostly because Soap stayed really close. Things did watch Ghost. Things that clearly were not human. Not animals.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

Soap led him to a kitchen. The doors didn't make sense. Ghost felt the world start to crumble around him.

Oh fucking hell.

This was real.

Soap got him food. It was leaves with something red over it, most likely salad dressing. He added some meat to the side and gently led Ghost back up. Ghost grabbed his arm and followed him.

Soap sat on the bed and watched him eat.

Ghost enjoyed the food. It tasted good. Mostly, he was trying to pretend this wasn't happening.

Soap motioned for Ghost to shower once he was done. His clothes mysteriously disappeared besides the robe. He laid on the bed again, sinking about into the softness. Music started to play. Beautiful music.

Ghost felt Soap laying next to him. Both staring at the ceiling.

"You like the stars, right?"

Ghost nodded. "I do."

Soap flicked his hands and the ceiling started to swirl until they were exactly like his stars from home.

Ghost started to breath harder. This was insane. All of it. But god, it was so nice to not feel pain.

Soap turned to him. "Simon. You're feeling something I don't understand."

"I don't want you to hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're capable. More than capable. What could I do to defend myself?"

"Simply tell me to leave. I adore you. I'll do anything you want. Anything to make you feel comfortable."

Ghost was silent for a while. They laid there a long time. He wasn't sure how long. Must've been hours. Just watching the stars. It was horribly pessimistic. Evil almost. But he knew if he didn't give Soap what he wanted, he'd take it eventually.

"Take what you want."

Soap looked at him, strangely passive. "Alright." He got on top of him, cradling his face. "I love you, Simon Riley."

Ghost looked away and let Soap pull the robe away. Let him trail his fingertips over him. He kept waiting for the pain. For roughness. Instead, Soap carefully prepped him. He pushed in one of his fingers, coated in something slick that felt warm. His mouth stayed busy on Ghost's stomach. With a gentleness that felt so foreign from the literal god of pain, he sweetly opened Ghost up for another finger.

The stretch felt... divine. It got a tiny groan out of Ghost that Soap quickly kissed him to swallow down. "I love you. I'll prove it. I have all of eternity to show you pleasure. To make up for all of the pain you've felt."

Ghost gasped as he felt him go deeper. Pleasure sparked up his spine as he was prepped. It was overwhelming and amazing and it felt so damn good. All too soon, he was pulling out those magic fingers and leaving Ghost empty and wanting more.

Soap hiked Ghost's legs up. "You might feel a bit of pain. I'm sure you're familiar with this."

Ghost bit his lip and nodded. "Be as rough as you want. I'm sure my pain is good for you."

Soap grabbed his hips and slid into him. Slow and steady. "Simon. Simon. Come now. Do I need to come out and just say I want to spoil you?"

There was no time to adjust before he carefully rolled his hips, making Ghost arch from pleasure. It spun and ran through him, too intense to be natural.

Soap held him close and kept going. Loving. The word loving came to mind. It was so focused on Ghost in a way he wasn't used to. There was this dizzying lack of anything but pleasure. He dug his nails into his skin to ground himself but Soap pinned him by his wrists. The change of angle meant Soap just brushed his prostate in just the right way and Ghost slowly felt something in him start to crack.

So good.

So good...

"I'd never hurt you. I only want you to feel pleasure. I'd keep you like this for all eternity if I thought you'd be happy. I'd dedicate my existence to pleasuring you. Whatever you'd ask of me. My mouth, my body, my hands. I've spent so much time learning what I can. What makes men feel good. what would make you feel good. I know every nerve of your body. Ever reaction of the flesh."

Soap twisted his hips and Ghost cried out, the stars in his eyes mixing with the stars from the ceiling. His legs shook where they wrapped around Soap.

"Faster..."

Soap grinned. "There you go. You'll learn to love me. I promise. But until then, whatever you want, you get. I'll spoil you. Ruin you. No one else will be able to compete." He did go faster. It was perfect.

Ghost felt his thoughts disappearing and being replaced with just...

Soap kissed him and stayed at the right pace until Ghost had to turn his head to catch his breath. He reached down to finish himself but Soap pushed it away. "No. Just this. I know you can. Until then, just keep enjoying the feeling okay? You don't do anything but feel."

Ghost whined, feeling the pressure in his lower gut. He needed to finish, but he understood Soap's point in that he didn't want it to end. Maybe he could be happy doing this forever. Just taking and taking and...

Ghost couldn't think anymore. His body just wouldn't let him, taking over his thoughts.

"Soap. Soap. Soap. Soap." Simon mumbled before throwing his head back, coming all over both of them. The moment overstimulation started, Soap stopped, pulling out. He pushed his hair back before going to tuck himself back into his pants. "Not going to finish?"

"Don't see a reason to as long as you did."

"No. Finish."

Soap paused and stared at him before slowly wrapping his hand around his cock. He started to stroke himself but kept eye contact with Ghost. He came all over Ghost's chest.

"Good.' Ghost muttered, relaxing. "I need another shower."

[joelmillers-whore]

Couldn't Help It

summary: getting sick was not part of the plan and letting your boyfriend frankie take care of you while you’re sick was definitely not in that plan either. 

word count: 2.4K 

series or one-shot 

warnings: no warnings for this one. just some sweet ol’ fluff for you all today. some mild swearing i guess, frankie morales x f!reader

A/N: this is my first frankie fic so please be nice lol. not that y’all wouldn’t be. this is just a very short fic to start off with, i promise i’ll write some smut for him next time. enjoy and don’t hesitate to comment, reblog, and leave a like.

tags: @hellishjoel @ilovepedro

You’d felt it the night before, the burning and the scratchiness in the back of your throat. You tried to ignore it, tried to will the start of your illness away. You had popped every godforsaken pill out there and took enough sleeping medicine to knock out a small elephant, determined to head it off at the pass. 

Nothing seemed to help you and now you were confined to your bed, fighting against a pounding headache and racking up a killer fever. You could have probably pushed through the ailments, continued on like nothing was wrong and completed your thesis as normal. 

But pushing yourself to your limit time and time again, staying up until the early hours and only nabbing a couple of hours of sleep was surely the main reason why you were sick now. It was your body's way of telling you to slow down. 

For months, you had been running on fumes, trying to get to the end of the tunnel after so many years of rigorous schooling. You’d never needed a break, or never wanted to stop and take one, and now you were being forced to. 

Although now, school seemed like a distant thought, actually, every thought seemed distant, like they were just on the outskirts of your mind, clouded in a sickness-induced fog that you couldn’t seem to wade through, no matter how hard you tried. 

Every limb felt heavy as you attempted to maneuver around your apartment, you felt weak and tired and on some level, even vulnerable. You couldn’t function normally, you couldn’t even do something as normal as drink water. This definitely wasn’t your run-of-the-mill common cold, you’d thought. This had to be the thing that wiped out the dinosaurs. 

You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to get comfortable, your body aching and your ears ringing. You had to periodically swallow, on account of the build-up of pressure in your ears, which was proving to be annoying. 

Sweat clung to every surface, feeling unbearable as you become either too hot or too cold, casting your blanket off of yourself and then pulling it back over you a minute later, your body succumbing to a full body chill. 

Your lids dropped closed, the call of sleep loud enough now that you couldn’t ignore it. Sleep seemed like a good idea, a great idea even, and you let yourself slip under with little resistance. 

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep for, it could have been minutes, it could have been days, but all you knew was that you were feeling somewhat better. You were still a far cry from being a hundred percent, but it was something. 

It was still difficult to swallow, and your throat was still scratchy and dry, but now, your head wasn’t pounding and your body temperature was starting to regulate itself. You were coasting along with your high fever, a daze settling over you as you stripped off your layers, trying to cool down. 

Still feeling groggy from sleep, you hadn’t heard the door at first, but your ears perked up when it got louder, your body jolting up in bed at the incessant pounding coming from your front door. You groaned, wondering who it could be. 

You certainly weren’t expecting anyone and you sure as hell were going to be pissed if it was your creepy neighbour again, wanting to ask you out for the millionth time. Sliding out from the warmth of your covers, you really, really didn’t want to see anyone right now, not when you probably looked like something that crawled out of a sewer. 

Hoisting yourself up from the bed on wobbly legs, you padded out of your bedroom, crossed the apartment, and pulled open your door. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head, surprised to see who had been on the other side of your door. It was Frankie, your boyfriend. 

Frankie had been to your apartment before, but only briefly and you had thought that he had forgotten your address entirely. It wasn’t as if he was an unwelcome sight, quite the opposite actually. He stood straight, tall, and he towered over you. His unkempt curls peeked out from underneath his signature baseball cap and a weak smirk was present on his face. 

His arms were crossed but his aura was anything but unpleasant. His light green button-up was stretched tight across his chest and bulging arm muscles, pulling the material so snuggly that you thought it would rip and if you were feeling better, you would have liked to see that happen. You still wanted to, if you were honest with yourself. 

Frankie’s coffee-brown eyes were blown, a tick of worry flooding them as he looked at you— only you. Your heart hammered in your throat, an air of restlessness settling over you at the realization that Frankie was worried about you, for some reason. 

You hadn’t been dating each other long, it had only been about four months, but the way that Frankie always seemed to look at you, with adoration and a soft protectiveness, similar to how he was looking at you now, made your stomach erupt with an incomparable amount of flutters. 

You leaned your head against the frame of the door, eying Frankie as he analyzed you, and studied you like you were his favourite book. It should have unnerved you, the intensity of it, but the idea of him being so concerned with your well-being calmed you. 

“Hi”, you said, your voice coming out raspier than you were expecting. 

Frankie inched forward subtly, his hand mindlessly drifting to your hip, “Hey”, he paused. His eyes flicked down the length of you, those bushy brows creasing, “Are you okay?”. 

Your lips tipped up at the sides, pulling into a light smile. All you could do was hum your reply, suddenly overcome with tiredness again. 

“I was worried ‘bout you. Haven’t heard from you in two days”, Frankie muttered, trying to hide how worried he actually was about you. But at this point, even if your current state, you could pick up on his different cadences. 

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Has it really been two days?”. 

Time almost seemed to stand still when you were sick, the concept foreign to you when you couldn’t even think straight. 

He nods, his pupils blown and fixated on you. “What’s going on?”. 

You chewed on your lower lip, tugging at the sensitive skin harshly as you debated your next words. It was a simple enough question and it deserved a clear, simple answer. But for some reason, when you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out. 

This was the first time that Frankie had seen you like this— had seen you as this frail and feeble version of yourself, and you didn’t like it. Because this wasn’t who you were and it wasn’t who you wanted to be thought of as. Someone who needed to be helped and someone who always needed saving, and you definitely didn’t want Frankie to see you that way. 

So instead of giving him the direct answer, you opted for, “Nothing, ‘m fine”. 

Frankie scanned your face, his face twitching imperceptibly, like he didn’t believe you at all. 

“You’re not”, he tightened his grip on your hip, “You don’t look fine”.  

You forced a chuckle from your throat, thinking that the garbled noise was close enough to pass as a laugh, “Thanks...”. 

He sighed, shuffling his cap on his head nervously, “That’s not what I meant... I just meant, you don’t look like yourself”. 

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running across your cheekbone softly, lovingly. Your eyes flitted closed at his touch, soaking in the feeling and almost moaning from how good it felt. But you held yourself back. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to continue holding yourself up, your weakened strength waning the longer you stood. You needed to sit down, or rather lie down, but with Frankie there, you couldn’t exactly escape to your bed without admitting to him that something was wrong with you. 

Pushing yourself off of the door, you shuffled to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a small groan. Frankie wordlessly closed your door, following you deeper into your apartment. He stood above you, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his already tussled curls. 

The action was more mesmerizing than you wanted to admit, and you found yourself licking your dry lips. 

Frankie smiled down at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the lamp that was next to you. His deft fingers raised to your chin, tipping your head up so that your eyes met his, “You’re not feeling well, hm?”. 

You shook your head, still adamant about remaining strong, “Told you, I’m fine”. 

Frankie’s face fell, those gleaming eyes losing their shine, “Don’t lie to me. I thought we didn’t do that with each other”. 

Your gut soured at the thought. It was true, you never wanted to lie to Frankie and still keeping him at arm’s length was killing you. But it wasn’t like you did it on purpose, not consciously anyway. A string of shitty ex-boyfriends who had left their mark on you made you weary of trusting anyone you were seeing. 

But Frankie wasn’t like any of them, he wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met actually. He was kind and he was the best man you’d ever known. He didn’t force you into situations that made you uncomfortable, or manipulate you emotionally just because he could. 

And he didn’t deserve to be shut out. You rolled your shoulders back, taking a stabilizing breath. “This is humiliating”, you mumbled. 

Frankie’s lips twitched, his fingers still holding onto your chin, “Why?”. 

“Because...”, you sighed, avoiding his eyes, “I just... I’m not used to needing anyone”, you paused, trying to get out what you were thinking without stumbling over your words, “It’s just been me for a long time, and I’ve always been able to take care of myself”. 

Your eyes flitted back to Frankie’s, your face heating with embarrassment at your confession. You thought you’d see anger or hurt in his eyes, but he was still smiling down on you, only faint amusement on his face. 

“Well, get used to it because you’re not alone anymore. So, let me take care of you. Because I want to”. 

Your breath came out shaky, only now realizing that those were the exact words that you needed to hear. Emotion bubbled in your chest, constricting your throat and rendering you speechless. 

You simply nodded, while Frankie’s fingers slipped from your chin and he grabbed your hand instead, helping you to your feet and leading you back to your bedroom. Even though you had only been awake for a short while, your mind and body were already exhausted, and by the look on Frankie’s face, he knew it. 

He lifted the covers over your body, leaning over and kissing your temple, humming sweetly as he pulled back. He turned, heading out of your bedroom, when you took hold of his hand, stopping him. 

“Will you stay?”, you asked, meely. The feeling of needing someone so much scared you, but the look of pure giddiness on Frankie’s face overtook that unsure weight on your chest and replaced it with something infinitely lighter. 

He nodded, “‘Course, just wanted to get a wet cloth, might help bring down your fever”. 

Frankie’s hand drifted to your forehead, the back of it laying flatly against your skin, cooling it down significantly already. You let your eyes drift closed, nodding absentmindedly as Frankie’s hand stayed where it was for a little longer. 

“Be right back”, he whispered, leaving your side temporarily. 

You’d fallen back asleep sometime after he left, dazed sleep taking over you. Your eyes only cracked open slightly when you felt your mattress dip and a cold sensation on your forehead. You tried to mumble something, but it came out jumbled. 

Frankie smoothed back your hair, stroking your head rhythmically as he spoke, “Shhh, just rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up”. 

His presence and the feeling of his subtle touch against your clammy skin were enough to lull you back to sleep. There was something inside of you that had always yearned for this, for the closeness outside of sex. The intimacy of a relationship. Frankie wanted to be here, he wanted to take care of you, and he cared for you in a way that your past boyfriends hadn’t, that much was clear. 

Your heart clenched in its cavity when you felt Frankie lower himself onto the bed, behind you, and scooted closer so that his front was flush with your back. His arms wrapped around you, his face nestled into the crook between your neck and shoulder. 

He peppered scratchy kisses along your exposed skin, his trimmed facial hair tickling your exposed skin. 

“You didn’t have to stay”, you mumbled. Only now recognizing that you had been asleep for the whole night, the sunlight cascading in and bathing the whole room with light. 

“Couldn’t help it, I needed to make sure that you were okay”. 

You turned your body around in Frankie’s grip, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes meeting his inky irises. The light bounced on one side of his face, lightening up his features and highlighting the most memorable parts of him. 

Like his slightly crooked nose that you loved to dot with kisses, his smile lines that you couldn’t help but trace with your index finger. Or his loose brown curls that you loved to run your hand through and tug on roughly when he kissed you. 

Your hand met his cheek, stroking it gently. You leaned in, planting a small kiss onto his lips. He smiled against you, deepening it and slowly devouring you. 

You pulled back, “Thank you”. 

Frankie dragged you closer to him by your waist, pulling you into his atmosphere. You felt safe and comfortable lying in his arms, embracing the quiet moment between you two. Maybe it was comfort you were feeling but maybe it was something deeper, something you had been afraid to admit until now. 

You were falling in love with Frankie Morales, you were sure of that now. And you didn’t think you’d be able to stop it, not that you really wanted to. But that was a confession for another time, right now you were falling asleep in his strong hold, content and intent to keep yourself close to him for as long as he’d let you.

[mrs-kodzuken]

Sick with you ♡

Pairing: Aged up!Haijme Iwaizumi x fem!reader

WC: 2.1k

Genre: fluff

CW: fem!reader, sickness, becoming friends, slight attraction to iwaizumi, slight cussing, infertile!reader, teacher!reader, mentions of reader passing out, iwa taking care of reader, very slight implied infertile!iwaizumi, not proofread, very slight angst due to infertile talk

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

I sniffled, the disgusting snot coming out of my nose hiding back into it. I was sick. Working with kids was the greatest thing I could have ever done but the unfortunate side of it is getting sick a lot. However, I wouldn’t give it up for anything.

I was so sick and I had all the symptoms like the sneezing, body aches, headache, and sore throat. I went to the doctor to see if it was something more serious because I literally feel like death and all she said was that it’s just a ‘common cold’.

A common cold my ass. I feel like I could die.

Staying in the comfort of my own home instead of getting any of the other teachers sick was hard. I wanted—needed—to know how my students were doing.

After having found out I was infertile when I was twenty years old crushed me. Hence why I became a teacher to surround myself around the hopeful children. They look up to me and I love them as if I’m their mom—school mom.

Maybe it’s a sadistic way to cope with my feelings but I don’t care. I went through hell after finding out that heartbreaking news.

The pounding in my skull brought me back to my sickened state. I groaned before grabbing the left side of my head in pain. I was out of headache medicine and my stomach was already growling for something to eat.

As much as I wanted to let my mom and dad take care of me, like they usually would do. I moved away. Finding out about my infertility was a blow to my heart and in the moment I was so broken that I couldn’t stay in the same place where I found it out.

Blinking away the thoughts of my pain, I focused on my bodily pain as I got up to throw on something. I decided on an oversized hoodie I thrifted and kept the nighttime shorts I had on, it was already dinner time anyways. As I turned around for my keys I could feel my body swaying until I grabbed onto the wall.

Damn. I need to hurry and lay back down.

Hurrying to the front door, I grabbed my wallet and slipped on my slides as a cough slid out of my throat.

The nearest convenience store was my best bet since it was only a short walk that I could manage. I wasn’t trying to collapse in the middle of the street.

The little ding I heard alerted me that I was inside the store and I tried to snap out of my small trance of disorientation. I immediately headed for the medical aisle, I need medicine as soon as possible.

After grabbing it, I almost neared the cashier until my stomach rumbled. I damn neared cried because of the pain and hunger I was feeling.

Trudging towards the soup aisle, I quickly saw the last can of chicken noodle soup and immediately went to grab it.

Unfortunately, I guess I wasn’t the only person who wanted some chicken noodle soup right then. I looked over, no matter how much it hurt my eyes to do so, and saw a tall guy. The tip of his nose was highlighted with the color red and there were visible dark eye bags underneath his dark colored eyes.

Our hands brushed as we both tried to grab the same can which happens to be the very last can. “Uhh..” Trailed out of my mouth without warning.

“Sorry,” He politely said towards me, retracting his hand from mine and the chicken noodle soup. He sure was a gentleman if he was just as sick as me and giving me the last can of chicken noodle soup.

“No, sorry, you can have it.” I said, I made a conclusion based on what he looked like. He was built, like built, his muscles showing through a black tee that he was wearing both triceps and abs. Someone who was this muscular had to be someone who was important enough to have those muscles. He gave me a strange look.

“You look worse than I do, I insist.” I’m pretty sure he meant it as I should take better care of myself but I couldn’t help but to take high offense to that.

I scoffed, “Yeah, thank you. Way to make a stranger feel shitty about her appearance.” I gripped the metal can off the shelf and made my way to the cashier, leaving the handsome but sick man behind me.

After I was done checking out, all of my energy was completely gone. It took everything out of me to even get to the store and just the short walk back was enough to make want to cry.

I opened the door to leave, the ding from it making me wince as it was disoriented in my head.

Suddenly, the area around me started to blur and the step I took made my body collapse. I couldn’t even care less about the pain that was headed my way when I hit the pavement of the outside of the convenience store.

But it didn’t come.

Warmth surround my torso as I was caught, it did very little to break me from my state. I could barely open my eyes to see the person—man, definitely a man from the way he feels—who caught me.

“Shit, are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” A concerned voice sounded out, it happened to belong to the same man from earlier. However, the sound of his voice was muddled out weirdly. A sound of confusion came from my mouth as I tried to gain my bearings.

I mumbled my address then tried to grab my bag of needs that I bought to shuffle my way to my house.

That is, until black spots clouded my vision and I definitely fell to the ground as I blacked out.

The smell of delicious food awoke me. A huge shove came to my body when I fully gained consciousness. Everything hurts so bad. My throat was dry, my body hurt to the max, and I didn’t even get my soup from the store.

Wait, the last thing I remember was collapsing in front of the convenience store. How fucking embarrassing.

My blood went cold when I realized someone was in my house. Could it be the man from earlier? If so, why in the world is he cooking food in my kitchen?

I slowly got up, not wanting to pass out again in my own room, and headed for the kitchen.

My living room TV was on some sort of kids show I watched when I was younger. The lamps were on giving it a nice ambiance, not too much to hurt my head even more than it already did.

I turned the kitchen and saw the clothed muscular back of the man from the convenience store.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I tried to question him intently, however my efforts failed because it sounded scratchy and like I desperately needed water.

He turned around quickly, revealing a pot on the stove and the remnants of sliced vegetables on my cutting board.

“Hey, you’re awake. You fell in front of the store and I took you home but felt bad since I apparently said you look horrible. So, in return I patched you up and made a stew.” Even though I knew he was sick, he made me soup anyways because he felt bad. I would take it as an extremely kind gesture if the whole situation wasn’t weird.

I was about to speak again but realize what happened last time so I just nodded and headed to the sink for some water.

After having my fill and letting the cool water run down my parched throat I spoke, “You’re sick too. You didn’t have to go out of your way.” I furrowed my brows and pain hit my face.

“Oh my god, ow,” I exclaimed, my hand coming up to my eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t catch you in time, you fell again after the first time.” He looked over what I’m assuming were my bandaged cuts on my face.

“Oh, thank you…” I trailed off, not knowing is name or what to say besides thanking him.

“Haijme Iwaizumi.” He gave me a small smile then returned back to the stew that was brewing on the stove.

Even though the situation is way weird, it was kind of nice. I haven’t had a man over into my home in the longest. I don’t like one night stands and my long term boyfriend I had left me back when I found out I was infertile.

I watched as Iwaizumi poured the stew into one porcelain white bowl, adding a soup spoon into the bowl. He served the meal to me and just stood there.

Weird.

“Are you not going to eat..?” I asked him, maybe it was my loneliness of being alone for a while or something more but I didn’t want him to go.

“Are you sure? I made this for you, I can just take the chicken noodle soup and leave if you’d like.” He put the utensils into my sink and was about out to leave.

“Please stay. I insist.” I slightly begged, hearing the panic in my own voice. Man, being sick sure does mess with my head.

After a while of just spoons clacking against the bowls I decided I had enough.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sure you’re a busy man, you didn’t have to do all of this for a stranger.” I thanked him, I didn’t know what else to do since I had just finished my strew. I felt more myself after I had it too.

“No worries. I have the day off from work. I’m also used to taking care of my friends.” He smiled a bit at me, making my heart thump.

I was a sucker for people like me, people who help others just because. Sometimes from their own unfortunate circumstances or sometimes from the joy of it.

“What do you do? If you don’t mind, I just, I want to know more I guess.” I shamelessly chuckled, uncontrollably moving around in my seat. I hope he didn’t think I was weird.

“I’m an athletic trainer. I coach the Japanese National Team.” My suspicions were correct. He was definitely important.

“Wow, that’s impressive. I’m just a plain old grade school teacher.” I embarrassingly laughed, my occupation wasn’t anything like his.

“If it counts, I think that that’s impressive.”

I looked up at him, his eyes staring back into mine. The moment was so silent but intimate to me. It felt warm.

“Really? I do it because it’s something that makes me happy. It fulfills a part of me that I won’t be able to have someday, you know?” I said, being completely honest for no reason at all. I was just happy that he thought my job was impressive, no one really does besides me.

“The same goes with me. The team are people I have known since college and high school so I always feel like I’m kind of a big brother or dad to them.” He lets out a laugh that embarrassingly makes my entire body warmer than the sickness.

“I like you as a person. You remind me of me.”

He looks up and smiles so deeply at me, kindness coating his eyes. “I like you too. Your home feels like a heavy reflection of you.”

Our heart to heart words between us felt like forever but didn’t really last that long. Much to my surprise, it was almost 11pm and Iwaizumi had to get home.

“Thank you for taking care of me, I’m in your debt.” I said, a smile gracing my lips.

“No problem, I’ll call if I need any favors.” He let out a chuckle which made my cheeks flush.

A thought of realization dawned upon me and I made a hasty decision within two seconds. “Wait, how about you stay over?” I slowly asked, “I might collapse again.” I hoped for a yes and my prayers were answered when he nodded.

“Thank you. I didn’t want to impose on you by asking.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

How boyish of him.

I told him about where everything was in my house and decided to take a quick shower and try to get some sleep to feel better.

“Come get me if you need anything Iwaizumi. I’ll be right down the hall.” I commented before shutting the guest bedroom and entering mine.

All I could think about when I shut my own bedroom door was that I hope he does come get me.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

[doberbutts]

As Disability Discourse 2.0 crosses my dash yet again I am left sort of wondering where the line is.

I am physically disabled. I am also neurodivergent. I do not consider myself mentally ill but I know that there are people out there with my exact diagnoses that do consider themselves mentally ill.

I have a brain injury. You can point to it on an MRI. I have the images to prove it. I had to re-teach myself how to speak. Those weird typos I have sometimes? Yeah my brain just reads letters wrong and sometimes spits out the wrong word or tense or grammatical structure sorry, that’s what happens when your brain gets shaken around in your head like a maraca following a serious car accident. I have a permanent tremor in my right hand and arm which results in me being incapable of fine motor control when having a flare. I am photosensitive and relatively intolerant of stress. I knocked an eye loose and was thankfully able to keep it but occasionally need to cover it or else it feels like someone is stabbing me directly in the brain when there is literally any light or movement whatsoever.

Did you know that over 30% of people who survive TBIs debate and even attempt to kill themselves within the first year? It’s still a bit unresearched but many neurologists believe it’s because many survivors have a hard time adjusting to their new normal when it feels like they have lost all control over themselves. I did not get that bad but I had many meltdowns where I would sob uncontrollably because it was all just Too Much, and the knowledge that it would be Too Much, Forever was curse over comfort.

Is that a mental or a physical disability? A part of my brain is damaged, like a scar. It is entirely neurological and mental in its symptoms.

I was diagnosed with a different brain condition, one that affects the autonomic nerve within my brain, causing fainting episodes, out-of-control mast cells, horrific digestive problems, and joints that bend a little too much. Average quality of life after diagnosis is roughly equivalent to someone with end stage heart failure.

A part of my brain is faulty and always has been. It is entirely physical in its symptoms. Is this a mental or physical disability?

My knee hurts. I was knocked off my bike one day on my way home from college. It was a hit-and-run driver and I didn’t have the money or the insurance to do more than slap a brace on it and limp around for several weeks while it healed. Less than a decade later it gave out. I was completely unable to walk for months. I lost my job. I ended up switching careers entirely so I could sit. I walk with a cane. I have to physically drag myself up stairs with my arms and my “good” leg. I spend nights grasping at my knee willing it to stop spasming as I try to get some sleep. I’ve had to beg for painkillers. Surgery will not help it. My knee is Completely Fucked, Forever.

This is a clear physical disability, that much is for sure.

I recently went to see Spiderverse. I warned my friend that it was entirely possible I’d need to duck out at some point because the movie would overwhelm me. I also warned her that I would probably need to immediately rest or go home and would not be able to hang out because I was anticipating it to be Sensory Hell. I went in prepared with my own snacks, tinted glasses to take the edge off the flashing, and even looked away during some of the worst of it.

I needed to duck out after an extended chase scene which featured a lot of flashing lights. I was able to come back and finish the movie. I needed nearly an hour of rest to stop shaking and be safe to drive myself home. I immediately went to bed upon getting home at about 4pm and by the time it was night had a pounding headache and shivers. I knew this would probably happen because the first one was very bad for my brain injury and I’d been pre-warned the second one was worse about it- truly I think it is really those movies’ biggest flaws is that they are very not friendly to people with problems with bright flashing lights.

My knee did not prevent me from entering the building. The theater was wheelchair accessible.

But even with sensory provisions, my brain injury and faulty nerve made it a monumental task to just finish a two and a half hour task of literally just sitting there.

I could go in. Staying was the part that was in question.

[thornsnvultures]

His face just says, "What's wrong, sweetheart?", to me 🥺🥺 like I want to climb in his lap and tell him all about my bad day so he can make me feel better 😩��💞

au/no outbreak!Joel x reader, fluff, some implied nsft bits at the end

"Everything okay in there?"

You can barely hear Joel from the other room through your pulse pounding in your ears. If you slammed the door open and shut a little too hard when you came home you didn't care, you were finally home and the day couldn't be mean to you any more.

Joel was waiting for you on the couch, already setting up the movie the two of you have been wanting to watch with a fresh, delicious smelling pizza sitting on the coffee table. But you were exhausted and couldn't imagine sitting through the loud action movie with your headache right now.

"Sorry, baby, I need to go lay down," you cut Joel off before he could speak.

Joel wasn't gonna let you go just like that, not with what looked like tears threatening to spill at the corners of your eyes.

"Hey, hey, whoa," he reached out and lightly grabbed your arm before you could rush past. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You couldn't look at him. You were standing there with your back to him, his hand insistent on your arm cause you knew if you did look you'd break down.

"Baby, please," his voice was firm but gentle, like he was afraid he'd spook you. He knew you wanted to bolt.

"It's nothing," your voice came out choked and wet which only made you more mad at yourself. You wanted to hide from him, from your feelings, from the whole damn day.

"It's not nothing. Not if it's making my babygirl feel this way. C'mon," he pats his thick, jean-clad thigh, "come sit and tell me what's got you all worked up."

You take one, big, sniffling breath and begrudgingly move onto his lap.

Joel huffs at you awkwardly sitting on one leg and pulls you all the way in so you're snuggled in close to his chest, your legs pulled up on the couch. (And your ass, quite distractingly, seated right on his crotch.)

"Talk to me," Joel rubs your cheek with a calloused thumb, sweeping up at a stray tear. You give in to the urge to rest your head on his shoulder. He smells sunwarmed and woodsy. He must've been on a jobsite today. And he still went through all this effort to make your day better. God, you wanted to cry even more.

Instead you told him everything. How your day started out so nice, so ready to be productive when you left the house today, only for your day to take a turn as soon as you got in and you realized the next 8 hours would be hell on earth. You were screamed at, called names, talked down to by your supervisor for a problem that was out of your control. Your dropped your lunch at work and hadn't had anything to eat for most of the day which only served to make you more miserable and give you a headache. And on the ride home you nearly got side-swiped by someone on their phone.

It was a mess. An all around bad day. And you felt silly for complaining about it at first, everyone had bad days and you hadn't even thought to ask how Joel's day went. But Joel sat and listened and stroked your cheek, your back, your thigh, anywhere he could reach really, and as you went on you felt the weight lifting, the heaviness of the day melting off of you as you melted into Joel.

"I'm sorry you had a rough day, sweetheart, I really am," Joel shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Next time you call me so I can bring you something to eat, okay? We're a team, I'm here for you to lean on."

You nod, sighing as you toy with the buttons on his shirt. "I know. Thank you...for listening."

"Always. No matter what happens, don't run from me, baby. I wanna hear it all."

Joel leans forward, with you still in his arms, and grabs you a still warm slice of pizza. He grabs the knit throw off the back of the couch next, tucking it around you while you nibble on cheesy heaven.

"Better?"

You smile up at him and nod as you chew and a small smile pulls at his lips and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

"Good. Now finish up your pizza. You'll need your energy up when I take you to bed, babygirl."

Joel laughs when you take an even bigger bite, your bad day already forgotten.

thank you for sending me this gif, bestie 💗💗 I needed to take my terrible day out on something lol

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 2)- matt sturniolo

part one, part two

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

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

your pov:

i woke up with a massive headache, my chest heaving. the first thing i think of is matt.

what the fuck, why is he on my mind on a saturday morning.

i shudder at my own actions and throw my covers over my head as a phantom chill runs down my spine.“cant stay in bed forever” i sigh to myself, while throwing the covers off my body almost immediately after putting them back on. I march to my closet and change into my favorite running shorts. as soon as i step foot out of my house, i start to jog, the melodic tempo lulling me out of my morning funk. my peace is disrupted tho because out the corner of my eye, i see my neighbor walk out his house into his driveway. his eyes bore into mine before they rake up and down my body. my heart beat picks up slightly, and it’s not from the exercise.

my neighbor, kit, has been weirdly obsessed with me ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. about a week ago, i caught him snooping around our house at night, trying to get a peek into my room. after that i’ve been trying to avoid crossing paths, and i wasn’t planning on crossing them today. its fine, hes probably taking out the trash, i think, desperately trying to reassure myself. i speed up from a light jog to a full on sprint because i know that once hes out my sight, i will feel more comfortable. i sigh in relief when i round the corner to the next street in my subdivision, happy that i got away from him.

slap slap slap

his feet pound against the ground as he sprints to catch up with me. i whirl around once i hear the footsteps, and lock eyes with him. the accidental eye contact was enough to spur him to go even faster than his long legs were taking him before. my heart to drops and i turn back around, running on pure adrenaline and fear.

“Y/n, stop running and come talk to me!” kit yells angrily but i’m running far too hard to form a proper sentence. even if i wanted to respond to him i wouldn’t have the breath to do so.

“STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET. YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME Y/N. COME HERE AND ADMIT IT” he screams even louder. my head starts to pound and my mind reels trying to come up with a plan. i can’t run forever. i gather the little breath i have in me to muster up a scream in hopes someone will come help me, only for the air to be knocked out of me. i ran straight into something, no,

someone.

“get. the fuck. away from her.” the mystery man growls.

kit takes one look at him and slowly backs away in fear. “who the hell are you?” out of curiosity, i look up to see who i’ve run into and freeze.

matt?

no it can’t be. it looks just like him but his eyes are dark red, and dark black veins swirl under his pale skin like they have a mind of their own. “who are you?” i cringe as i repeat the same question kit did moments before, both our tones lacking a single ounce of courage. fear was all consuming as we stared at the monster in front us.

“you know who i am, y/n. get behind me. now. im gonna deal with him” he says gruffly while looking behind me at kit. kit whimpers at the sight of matts deadly stare.

i ignore what matt says, opting to look him up and down instead in a manner that screams “what the fuck is wrong with you”. but then, i try to think rationally for a moment, this is still matt after all. he may not like me but hes not gonna hurt me. right?

“what happened to you, matt?”i question breathlessly.

“you.” matt deadpans in a voice much deeper than his normal one, taking a step closer to me. he reaches his hand out to grab me. to take me.

“y/n get away from him!!” kit interjects and pulls me too him in hopes of trying to help me get away from matt. and for once, i’m actually glad kits here.

wrong move.

matt is in front of me in a flash. he snarles as he pushes kit with bone crushing force. his body goes flying, hitting a pole a couple of yards away with a loud thud, knocked out on impact. i shriek, terror filling my veins. as if sensing my strong distress, matt turns to me slowly. his arms out in front of him, in what is supposed to be a peaceful gesture.

hard to be comforting when your veins are as dark as your tattoos.

“y/n, we need to talk” the stranger, deeper version of matts voice says.

why can’t i move. im frozen in time as he takes slow steps towards me.

“you need to come with me, y/n.” he breathes out, his dark red eyes wide and crazed. he takes another step closer. my legs feel like jelly but i finally manage to take one step back. whatever matt is, it can’t be human. humans can’t throw each other several yards. their veins aren’t as black as midnight, and their eyes sure as hell don’t change to a deep red on command. so what does he, no, it, want from me.

“w- why do i need to come with you? ”

“because you’re mine” he growls, finally deciding to close the gap between us, faster than my eyes can process. he bends down and run his nose along the hot spot on my neck. he inhales deeply and moans in relief his black veins disappearing. i scream and try to push him off but its useless. he grabs my arm in a vice grip and pure horror spreads through my body for what feels like the 100th time today. i try to let out another scream but no sound comes out. my vision clouds and my head is spinning. then everything is black.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@fratbrochrisgf

@mattslolita

[estrellami-1]

I've been itchin for some good old fashioned steddie hurt/comfort, maybe steve with migraines? I know its been written a lot, but its always so soft and loving

Okay so this took FOREVER but muse deserted me like. Two days after I asked for these prompts. I’m terrible 😂 but I finally feel like I have something, so hopefully this suffices!

Courtesy of my dad putting a meat thermometer in the car on a 110°F/43°C day:

155.5°F, y’all. 68°C. That’s hot, no matter where you’re from. I’m not from Indiana, so I’m gonna go a little easy on Steve and say it’s barely breaching triple digits where he’s at, but if anyone’s from Indiana and wants to correct me, then by all means, please do!

It’s the heat that finally gets him.

Steve can deal with rain, with snow, with wind, hell, he can deal with interdimensional creatures.

But the heat is what finally takes him out.

His ears are ringing, his head is pounding, his stomach is churning.

The kids are out in the backyard, screaming.

He’d been out there with them, supervising, playing, settling fights. Being the babysitter. But he’d overdone it, and now he’s stuck inside. Can’t move from where he’d collapsed into a kitchen chair.

He’s got a cold Coke can by his elbow that he snagged from the fridge. Contemplates grabbing it and holding it up to his forehead, but everything feels like too much work right now, and he shuts his eyes against the tears that want to come.

The back door opens just as Dustin begins screaming about something else, and Steve can’t hold in the whimper, or the way he curls in on himself.

“Shit,” someone whispers, and Steve hears their footsteps approaching. “Steve?”

It’s Eddie. He’s whispering. Steve’s never been more grateful. He manages half a nod, to show he’s listening.

“Can I touch you?”

Another half-nod, and he grimaces at his head and stomach yelling at him.

“Okay, hey, shh, it’s okay, don’t move. I’m just gonna grab your hand, okay?” He does, grabbing the hand Steve hadn’t realized was tugging at his hair. He holds Steve’s hand with one of his and with the other, rakes his fingers through Steve’s hair.

Steve leans over a little, closer to Eddie, letting out a breath of relief. “Squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no, okay?”

Steve squeezes once, and Eddie lifts their joined hands to his mouth, kisses the back of Steve’s. “Okay. Headache?” A squeeze. “More?” Another squeeze. “Stomach?” Squeeze. “More?” Squeeze. Pause. “Can you point to it?” He points to his ear with their combined hands, and Eddie hums. “Ringing?” Squeeze. “Dizzy?”

No squeeze. He’s not sure. “Okay, that’s alright. D’you want the coke?” Two squeezes. “Okay. If I get you some water, d’you think you can drink some of it?”

A hesitant squeeze. He can try, sure, but he’s not sure it won’t come right back up. Eddie squeezes his hand, gently places it on the table, and kisses his forehead before moving away, getting a bottle of water from the fridge by the sound of it. He comes back quickly, lays a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder and rubs it down his back for a second.

Steve sighs, bowing his head, and Eddie chuckles softly, placing the water down in favor of getting both hands on Steve’s shoulders. He squeezes and kneads his thumbs in, on either side of his spine, down to the middle of his back and up to the base of his skull.

He continues with the massage for a few minutes, until Steve’s practically melting onto the table, then drags one hand down his arm to his hand, taking it again so Steve can squeeze. “Did you take anything for your headache?”

A pause, because he’s berating himself for not thinking of that when it would’ve been the most effective, then two squeezes. Because Eddie’s perfect, he says, “That’s alright, Stevie, I know it’s hard. Let me get you something for your head. You want something for your stomach, too?” Steve could cry with how in love he is. He squeezes twice and hopes Eddie doesn’t notice the tear making its way down his cheek.

Eddie’s lips intercept it about halfway down. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, carding a hand through Steve’s hair again. “I know. You’re doing so well, Stevie, I’m so proud of you. The kids are okay, and I’m here to help for as long as you want me to, alright?”

One last squeeze before Eddie pulls away. Forever, he means, and the lips on his temple make him think Eddie understands.

He’s back in a few seconds with two pills. He hands them to Steve, but they’re small and he thinks he might drop them, might spill the water, so he presses them back into Eddie’s hand.

Another pause but Eddie understands a few seconds later and the pills are at his lips, and he’s opening for them, accepting the water that’s next, slowing down when Eddie murmurs. “Careful, slow sips. Just a little for now, you can do more in a minute, just let this settle first.” He pulls the glass away, sets it down on the table, and takes Steve’s hand again. “How about we go upstairs? Maybe take a bath? I think there’s some of that lavender oil still.” Squeeze, pause. Upstairs. Squeeze, pause. Bath. Two squeezes. Lavender.

Eddie seems to understand, thankfully. “Okay, no lavender. Want me to carry you up?”

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, Steve internally curses his parents for buying the biggest, grandest house they could. He squeezes once; even if he would prefer to walk, he’s not sure he can right now.

Eddie moves to crouch beside him, pressing another kiss to his temple. “I love you,” he whispers, lips brushing Steve’s temple still. “So much.” He gets his arms around Steve, adjusts a little, and counts down so Steve knows when he’s going to move. Steve loves him an insane amount.

Instead of saying anything, he loops an arm around Eddie’s neck, tucks his head into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and presses a kiss to Eddie’s collarbone.

Eddie gets him upstairs and in bed with minimal jostling. “I’m gonna go grab your water real quick,” he whispers. “D’you want the bath now, or later?” He quickly thrusts a hand back into Steve’s. “One for now, two for later.”

Steve thinks about it, honestly doesn’t know. Holds up a weak-feeling w to his chin. Water.

“Okay. I’m gonna let the gremlins know too, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Logically, Steve knows he will be back in a few minutes. He knows he’s in a sweat-soaked tank top and swimming trunks. But it’s somehow cooler upstairs than down, and his window is closed, and his head is pounding less, enough so that he’s falling asleep by the time Eddie makes it back up.

He startles awake when Eddie places a hand on his forehead, then winces when his movement causes everything to hurt more. “Shit,” Eddie whispers. “Sorry, baby, didn’t think you’d be asleep yet. Can you drink a little bit more water for me? Then we can sleep.

Steve frowns, lifts a clumsy hand to sign. Bath?

“Do you want one right now? Because I’ll go set it up if you do. But I think your body knows what you need right now and is trying to give it to you.”

Steve thinks it over, then agrees, asking for water again. “Yeah, of course, here, lemme just…” he maneuvers behind Steve, props him up some, and lifts the bottle to his lips. “Small sips, baby, it’ll be here later too, m’kay?”

Steve obeys, taking small, slow sips, tilting his head up when he’s finished. Eddie places a kiss on his cheek as he puts the bottle back on the table. “Go to sleep, baby,” he murmurs, laying them down. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Steve frowns, signs one more word. Kids?

“I let them know you’re not feeling well. They’re packing up, Nancy and Jonathan are gonna take everyone home. Robin threatened me with dismemberment if I didn’t tell you to call her when you’re feeling better.” Steve smiles. “Oh, sure, just laugh at a threat to me, what’s gonna happen when-” he splutters when Steve puts his hand over Eddie’s mouth. He grins, kisses his palm, and grabs his wrist, slotting his thumb into the pulse point. “Love you, Stevie.”

With the hand still held aloft, Steve sticks out his thumb, pointer finger, and pinky. I love you. And with that, he drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up, the little bit of light coming from his window tells him he’s only been out for a few hours. He takes stock of himself: his head still hurts a little, his ears aren’t ringing anymore, and his stomach still feels a little weird, but he thinks he might just be hungry.

He rolls onto his side and comes face-to-face with a sleeping Eddie. As he watches, Eddie’s brows scrunch, he mutters something, and he stretches out, one arm creeping across the sheets towards Steve. His hand pushes against Steve’s chest a few times before he mutters something else and wraps his arm around Steve, pulling him closer.

Steve can’t help it. He grins and kisses Eddie’s forehead, so in love with this dork he’s just about shaking with it.

Eddie’s eyebrows scrunch again and his eyes flicker open. He smiles at Steve. “Hi, baby,” he whispers, sleep-rough. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Better,” Steve whispers back. “Head still hurts a little, but it’s not bad. Mostly I’m hungry.”

Eddie hums, tucking his head under Steve’s and rubbing a hand up and down his back. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Steve hums back. “Feels good. I dunno. Think there’s any burgers left? Might do one of those.”

He can feel the face Eddie makes. More so, he can hear it in his voice. “You want leftover burgers?”

Steve lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s easy.”

“Stevie. Baby.” Eddie pulls back to press a kiss to his lips. “I asked you what you want, not what would be easy. If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Steve thinks about it, then starts laughing. “Honestly? McDonald’s.”

Eddie chuckles too. “Then McDonald’s you shall get,” he swears. “Wanna come with me or stay here?”

Steve’s brows raise in surprise. “I can get it, Eds.”

“I know you can. I’m asking if you want to come with me or if you’d rather stay in bed.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’d rather stay in bed with you,” he says, causing Eddie to smile.

“Ah, but we can do that after I get your food. You want your regular?”

“Yes, please. Think I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay. I think the sun might make the headache worse.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie soothes, standing up then bending over to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Be back soon.”

“M’kay. Thanks, baby.”

“Anything for my love,” Eddie grins, bowing before he walks to the door.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head at his boyfriend’s dramatics, shifting in bed to get comfy again.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when Eddie walks in, he blinks awake, stretching as he smiles at him. “Hi, baby,” Eddie whispers.

Steve wants to kiss him, so he does, sits up and drags Eddie closer, food all but forgotten. “Hi,” he whispers against Eddie’s lips. “Thank you.”

Eddie hums as he kisses Steve once more then pulls away. “Anything,” he says, and Steve knows he means it.

They eat in relative silence until Steve asks, “how’d the kids react when you told them?”

Eddie smiles. “They were mostly worried for you. I think Dustin was about to bust inside and demand why you didn’t tell him you weren’t feeling well, but then Nancy gave him a look—you know the one—and told him in no uncertain terms that they were going to leave you to rest and could check in on you tomorrow. So expect a call from him.”

“Or twelve,” Steve chuckles. “Speaking of, I should probably call Robin, huh?”

“Probably,” Eddie agrees, then grins. “Or I can think of something else we could do instead.”

Steve pretends to think about it, then leans in. “Robin can wait,” he agrees, matching Eddie’s grin with his own.

[aspenxlabyrinth]

Collapse

Hi there! My name is Aspen, and this is a repost of my one-shot whump fic of Dick Grayson (Nightwing) struggling against Mad Hatter’s control. If you’re interested, a link to my Ao3 account is on my profile, have a great day!

—

A heavy pulse thundered in his ears, alongside searing pain in a tight band around his head and the shrill screeching that rang discordantly with his usual tinnitus. Somewhere beyond the agony and chaos in his mind, there were voices loudly arguing. About what, Dick wasn't entirely sure. His mind and energy were being spent on fighting whatever was putting him through this Hell.

Focus. Focus. How did I get here? What happened just before the pain?

All he could remember was being directed by Oracle to follow up on a report, but everything else was becoming increasingly hazy.

Okay. If the "Before" is too hard, try to figure out the now.

Even if the pain wouldn't subside, temporary reprieve could come from focusing on the other sensations in his body. Dick looked around to see a concrete floor... dark walls... and the symbol that's haunted every nightmare, as well as every dream of hope he's had since childhood, the bat symbol. A familiar red helmet stood out to the side. Bruce and Jason.

He could feel cold concrete on his cheek, and colder air on his head and face. The familiar feeling of his suit contrasted strongly with the unfamiliar and heavy feeling of his arms bound to his chest - is this a straight jacket? Who put him in a straight jacket? Was he a prisoner somewhere?

Outside the ringing and the pounding in Dick's ears, Jason's raised voice clashed with Bruce's, and what sounded like other jumbled and unseen voices from slightly further away echoes behind.

I won't worry about the other senses... okay... my hair is gone, I'm in a straight jacket, I'm on the floor, I'm in a closed off and dark room, and Bruce and Jason are arguing.

Dick was in no state to put the pieces together, as his head pain erupted into something far more severe, eliciting a cry of shock and a jerk of pain from him. Even thrashing on the ground, someone with strong hands managed to sit Dick upright. Who was he looking at? The haziness that came from the ear-splitting ringing and now truly thunderous headache brought a level of disorientation that Dick wasn't used to. He saw the color red, but that was all he could make out.

A voice that sounded as if it was underwater spoke to him, definitely coming from the mass of red in front of him.

"Dick! Snap out of it! Tell us where Hatter's chip is and we'll get it off of you."

Dick? Hatter? Who are they? No. Dick is me. I am Dick. God this hurts...

A strange feeling that resembled dread settled in Dick's stomach the moment the voice had finished speaking. So did a sense of jealousy, although he couldn't identify why he was feeling either at the sound of a voice that sounded as if it wanted to help him. Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to do much of anything.

Why do I feel afraid? Why can't I answer? Who would I be answering?

A new, very clear voice rang through his head.

In front of you is the man who replaced you, who made you worthless to the person you trusted most.

Worthless...? I haven't felt worthless since - Jason. Jason replaced me.

That's right. Jason Todd. The Red Hood. The second Robin. The better Robin.

No... that's wrong. Jason is... something else. Wait. Who is Jason?

"Dick! Are you listening to me? I know it hurts, come on tell me how to help you! We can't get the chip if you don't tell us where it is, we don't have time here! It's me, Jason! Come on, you only have to respond for a second!" The red mass in front of Dick disappeared, and instead was the face of a man with dark, concerned and angry eyes. Dark hair too. Except for that white in the front. When did Jason get white hair again? Who is Jason?

Submit, Nightwing. Submit to my command and I will ensure Jason Todd is served justice for what he did to you.

Very suddenly, a new pain, far more extreme than the pain in his head, cracked and splintered through his leg. Dick let out a pained yell, but for a moment, his mind was cleared.

"DICK! Where did Hatter put the chip?" Jason had gripped the collar of the straight jacket and was desperately screaming in Dick's face.

"Jason? I don't know what you're-"

"MAD HATTER!!! The mind control chip, where is it?!"

Dick's memory cleared in that instant. He could remember earlier that afternoon, when Babs had told him about the Mad Hatter sighting, and where to go. He could remember sneaking his way there, and watching the crazed Jervis Tetch from a distance. And he could remember being strapped down, before that thing had been implanted, and passing out from the pain of that procedure.

"Fuck, I don't know! But they were cutting into my-" The pain, the ringing, and the pounding returned with a violent force all at once. "AGH, my head!"

"Bruce it's in his head, tell them and get a surgeon in here NOW!"

They don't truly care, Nightwing. You know that. Batman only wants his weapon. He's not going to save you because he wants you alive. He doesn't care. And the Red Hood only thinks he cares, because Batman is telling him to. I can handle both of them. Just submit, Nightwi-

"Dickie, I know it hurts but you've gotta listen to me. There's a surgeon on his way. We'll get that thing out of you. I swear I'd cut in myself if I knew for sure it wouldn't kill you. You've gotta hang on." A man was in front of Dick again, speaking softly this time, but desperately nonetheless. Who was it?

"Keep him out of your head, Dick. If you give in, I don't know for sure if we can get you back, and you can't do that to us."

Do you see? He only cares for their benefit.

Exhaustion was setting in, and with it, the ringing and throbbing seemed to dull. It would be so easy to just sleep, and let the pain, and the confusion go away. The man in front of him was shouting at him in what was easily identifiable as rage, and still concern. Dick figured even if he didn't know who he was talking to, he at least owed him some kind of response.

"Us...?" was all Dick managed to get out.

"Oh come on Dickie, yes, us. Bruce, me, Tim, Damian, Barbara, Starfire for Christ's sake!"

Fragments of images flashed through Dick's mind. Most passed by without much recognition. A few, however, brought images to his mind that almost stopped all of his pain altogether. Wholly green eyes, orange skin and red hair. Ginger hair, glasses, and a wheelchair. Comfort and familiarity in both.

All lies, Nightwing. Don't fall prey to a false sense of safety. Submit to my command.

That exhaustion crept in once again, providing more relief from the pain, but seemingly even more deprivation of his memories and mental function.

"Dick! Come on stay with me!"

"Who are you...?"

"Shit. Dick, it's me. It's Jason. Come on! We met after I tried to take the wheels off of Batman's car!"

"No... that... that was Robin..."

The blue eyes in front of him were growing more frantic every second. Dick felt bad for the man, and wished he could help him.

"Yes, Dick. That's me. I was Robin after you. Remember? After you were Robin-"

"Jason was..."

"That's right! Me! I'm Jason."

"Jason didn't have white hair... Jason was Robin. Jason didn't dress like you either, and was much younger. Jason..." Dizziness and exhaustion were already overwhelming Dick's senses, but there was now a heavy feeling of anger and grief accompanying them, swirling in his mind and crushing his heart. "Jason is dead."

That's right. These people seek to deceive you. Submit.

"Shit shit shit... Yes, I died, but I came back! Please remember, please! Stay with me Dick. I swear to God if you make me have to explain this to everyone I will never forgive you. Shit! Where is Bruce with that surgeon?! Dick come on just stay with me, talk to me, tell me how you're feeling right now."

"Who's... Dick...?" There was too much going on. Too much ringing, too much pounding, too much light, too much yelling... it was all too much.

It would be so, so easy to just sleep. Anything to put a stop to the pandemonium and agony in his head. Anything to distract from the pain in his leg, or the rawness of his throat from screaming.

I can give you that relief. Submit.

Submit. That'd been said a few times... the pleading and distraught man he'd been talking to didn't seem to want him to go to sleep, but surely he must not know how much pain he's in. This other voice wanted him to rest, and wanted the pain to go away.

I don't know who either of these voices are... I don't know who Dick is... or Nightwing for that matter... I can't seem to remember where I am, or why I'm in pain. But I can't fill in the gaps when my mind and this room are spinning like this. Sleep will help. Sleep will help the pain, and I'll figure all of this out when I wake up.

Jason shook Dick violently by the collar of the straight-jacket when he watched Dick's eyes roll back into his skull, and a feeling of both terror and grief flooded his veins when the eyes of the man in his arms rolled back into focus in an expression that looked nothing like the brother that should have been there.