#she had every symptom under the sun

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Can we please have more fluff. Specifically one of julieta reacting to Luisa's first period since she got it before her older sister

Oh we absolutely can, i LOVE a good fluff prompt

"Mami! Mami!!!"

Julieta got up out of bed faster than she ever thought possible. There was nothing more nerve-wracking to a mother, than hearing her child screaming. She bolted out of the room with Agustín following right behind her, right into Isabela's room. Isabela and Luisa wanted a sleepover tonight, hence why both were there. Julieta was usually comforted by the flowers in the room, but now, they were her hellscape. She immediately looked at her freaked out daughters, with Isabela who was comforting a crying Luisa.

"Luisa! What happened?! Did you fall?!"

Luisa wiped her face free of tears as her parents approached her, but it seemed to only get worse.

"I w-woke up because I was thirsty, and there was blood all over the bed!"

Julieta looked over at the bed, taking note of a giant red spot. Agustín raised a brow as he looked over his daughters.

"Oh. So you didn't fall, didn't cut yourself anywhere?"

Luisa shook her head, and both the parents sighed in relief.

"Oh Gracias por Dios- it's okay, Luisa. Isabela had her period, JUST like your prima Dolores!"

Isabela, who was only a few months older than Dolores, had been whining that her prima got her period first. She seemed excited about it, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Wait, so I'm a woman now?! COOL!"

Agustín chuckled, gently patting her head.

"You're growing up, but not a woman just yet. You're on the road to it though! Now, I'm going to put your sheets in the wash, and mami is gonna take you to get a shower."

Julieta couldn't be more relieved. She took a hold of Isabela's hand, letting Luisa calm down with her papi. She looked down at Isabela, who looked oddly...chipper, for what was happening.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"Great! I thought you said this period thing was bad! I didn't even feel the bleeding!"

"Huh. Well sometimes people get lucky with symptoms."

Julieta got her a spare change of clothes, and started the water for her. Isabela got undressed, and Julieta was expecting to throw her bloody underwear in the bin, but saw nothing. She stopped her daughter, curiously eyeing her clothes.

"Wait, hold on. There's no blood on these. Are there any on your thighs?"

Isabela checked her thighs, and even her crotch, but shrugged.

"No?"

"Well then how did you...oh no."

Isabela didn't have her period. It was her younger sister, Luisa. They thought it was Isabela, given the fact that she was overdue for one, but apparently not. The bathroom door opened just a crack, with Agustín holding onto little (and still crying) Luisa's hand.

"Think we had a mix up. She thought it was pee, but nope."

Isabela scoffed, fists clenched in anger.

"What? It's not MY period?! No FAIR!"

Julieta lightly patted her daughter's head, handing her clothes back to her.

"Please be sensitive, Isabela, this isn't easy for your sister right now. Come here, mi bebé, let's get you cleaned up."

They swapped kids, but Luisa held her hands out to Agustín. He was always her favorite.

"B-but I want papi..."

Agustín leaned down to kiss her forehead, taking a second to wipe away her tears.

"Easy, mi vida. I'll be back. I know you're sensitive right now. I promise, after your shower, we'll take a nap in your room for as long as you'd like. I'll even go into town and get you something, would you like that?"

Luisa sniffed as she wiped her face yet again, before nodding.

"I...I want Bandeja Paisa."

Julieta and Agustín shared a look. Getting Luisa to eat was like Agustín NOT getting into an accident. Half the time they had to bribe her to eat, often with toys. But here she was, requesting such a big meal. Agustín nodded quickly.

"Yes! You can have that, absolutely! From the good place, not the other one. Anything else?"

"Can you make that hot chocolate too? Please?"

Agustín nodded again, trying not to look so excited. Their daughter, wanting to EAT!

"Of course! I'll make you ANYTHING! After you take your shower, okay?"

Luisa nodded, though she looked mourning as Agustín walked out with Isabela. She got undressed, and sure enough, blood ruined her underwear, and even her dress. Julieta got the water ready, and sat on the toilet as Luisa started to clean herself. She waited till Luisa was done (a good twenty minutes at least), before helping her dry off with a towel. She looked at her from under her towel, softly smiling at her.

"Now, you remember what I told you about pads? You're going to have to wear them now, okay?"

Julieta got one of the bigger pads from under the sink, and Luisa whined loudly.

"It's big and bulky. I hate it."

"I know, mi vida, but you have to wear it, until you get comfortable with a tampon."

"I don't want this."

"I know it's difficult, but you're a growing woman, you need to-"

"I DON'T WANNA BE A GROWING WOMAN!!"

Luisa stomped on the floor, causing a big indent in the size of her small foot. Julieta looked at her, and poor Luisa immediately started to cry again.

"Luisa, no-"

"I'm sorry mami! I didn't mean it!"

Luisa immediately hugged her mother, and Julieta gave her a good squeeze.

"It's okay, it's okay. I know you just aren't feeling well. You're going to be just a bit angry sometimes, it happens. Your tìo will fix the floor."

Luisa looked up at the glass mirror, whimpering.

"I'm s-sorry, Casita, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Casita's tiles fluttered and flipped, letting her know it was alright. Julieta helped her get dressed, showed her how to properly put the pad on her underwear, and went to take her to her room. To her surprise, Dolores and Camilo were there, alongside Félix. Dolores saw her immediately, and rushed over to hug her.

"I heard what happened, Lulu. It's okay, me and Camilo brought you stuff to make you feel better!"

Félix, who had clearly just gotten out of bed, nodded at Julieta.

"Dolores woke me up right when she heard something. Been up all morning making her cards and bringing her toys."

Camilo was holding a fair bit of the stuff, including a box of chocolates.

"I even brought my chocolate stash. It's not full, but you sound like you need it more than I do, so you can have what's left. And I promise nothing in it is half eaten."

Dolores smiled at her prima, clinging to her side.

"You can eat the chocolates, play with the toys, and I brought my makeup kit so we can do your hair and your makeup! Because I know you feel kinda gross right now, I know I did."

Luisa looked at her cousins, and immediately started to tear up again. She gave Dolores a squeeze that made SOMETHING in her pop.

"You're the best prima EVER!"

Félix chuckled as he ushered them to Luisa's room.

"I'll watch the kids if you make some coffee?"

"Sounds fair. And I'm pretty sure Agustín is picking up breakfast."

"Good, neither of us should be cooking today."

He chuckled as he went into the room with the kiddos. Julieta was about to go into the kitchen, when he noticed Agustín was still at the front door, Isabela at his side. She approached him, finding him arguing with some townspeople.

"What is happening here?"

Agustín gestured to a group of angry looking men.

"They're mad because I told them Luisa can't do her chores today. I TOLD them she's on her period, but they won't listen!"

One of the men huffed.

"I was promised my fence was going to be fixed today, I need someone to carry the lumber. It's just her period, can't she hold it?"

Julieta had never felt more offended. Grown men, trying to push her daughter, and so ignorantly. He was about to speak again, when Julieta grabbed his ear, making him yelp as she brought him to her level.

"She can't 'hold it', just like you can't control your tongue. A grown man, wanting to put a little girl to work. You should be ashamed. You will ALL do your work by yourselves today. I want no ifs, ands, or butts. Grosero, all of you."

She let go of his ear, and pointed at them to leave. They grumbled bitterly, but did so anyway. Agustín chuckled at his wife, a big, dumb look on his face.

"I love you, SO much. Let's have another baby."

"Let's focus on one baby at a time. Isa, see if you can find something nice for Luisa while you're out, something pretty."

"Was already going to, it's why I brought my purse!"

Julieta smiled, kissing her baby's face a few times.

"Such a nice sister. And you, are going to be a nice husband and get enough breakfast for everyone."

"I can't promise I'll fill up Camilo, but I'll see what I can do."

They shared a quick kiss, and Julieta watched as they left. This was a hard time for her baby, but she was lucky she had such a big family to care for her.

[itsswritten]

finally.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, Nessian (platonic) x reader, fluff

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Pregnancy reveal, mentions of infertility/struggles falling pregnant, symptoms of pregnancy.

Summary: After years of trying and learning to let go, you are finally gifted your beautiful baby miracle miracles.

Wings Universe - More from this world.

“Gods you really are looking radiant today, Flower!” Elodie beamed, nudging you gently with her shoulder. 

The sun was bright among the wild blossoms, sunlight filtering down to touch your skin with a feverish kiss. The season was slowly shifting from Spring to Summer. Plants were growing larger, petals spreading wider, the pollen in the air stronger. There was a buzz among the land of the Night Court, as nature geared itself for this transformation. You had felt the change in temperature, noticed how the rays licked your skin. Leaving yourself and your friends glowing, sunkissed, glimmering from working in the meadows all day. 

But radiant? That was not the word you would use.

Elodie’s compliment had your brows furrowing gently, bringing your dirt covered hand to wipe the bead of sweat that threatened to roll down your cheek. You weren’t sure how to take the compliment. It described the opposite of everything you were feeling.

Perhaps bloated, and sluggish was more accurate. Out of sorts? You couldn’t quite figure out why, there had been no changes to your routine. Yet everything about you felt, well, just different.

Even Azriel had noticed some subtle changes. Ever the Spymaster noticed everything, especially about his precious mate. Or so he thought. He had mentioned the other day that your scent was sweeter than usual. The typical tones of vanilla and honey were weaved in with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite decipher. Azriel had taken it upon himself to touch every inch of your skin to uncover what, only to come to no answer. 

That had been a long night. A night of caresses and grazes. Not that you were complaining.

Glancing down at your fingers spread within the cool damp soil of the meadows, they flexed under the sponginess of the dirt. You could feel the vitality pulse beneath your fingertips before pulling them out. Glancing upon the skin that hadn’t been touched by dirt yet. Radiant? Perhaps. You always had a glow to you, all fairies did. That unexplainable aura that lit up any room. But maybe just maybe, you had been shining a little brighter. 

Maybe.

Casting a fertilising charm within the ground had been today’s task. Along with your usual working group you had headed to the meadows and woodlands on the outskirts of the Night Court. This particular part of your job, the more physical aspect, was one you usually relished in. The ache of your muscles and bones at the end of a hard day of graft, usually, gave you some kind of instant gratification. But fatigue was plaguing you.

You had been sleeping more than usual. Being a Fairy meant you were always rose with that hot shining beacon in the sky, but there had been numerous mornings recently where Azriel had to coax you from your slumber. The sunshine no longer acting as your alarm. Azriel would rouse you with whispered compliments and gentle kisses. Sometimes, his shadows would stir you too, brushing your skin with their cooling touch.

There had even been times when Azriel had let you sleep in. Never a working day of course. Gods be damned, Azriel knew better than that. A day missed at the meadow was the end of the world. Or at least your world. Azriel learnt in the early years of friendship that you took your duty very seriously. So on the days where he knew you had nowhere to be– nowhere other than his arms. He let you sleep.

“Honestly y/n you have this glow about you…” Elodie continued, turning fully to you now her own hands pulling out of the soil. She gently brushed them down her honey coloured dress, her apron picking up the soil as she wiped them. The sun cast a gentle glow across her deep skin, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. A curiosity you wanted to question but before you could, the call for lunch was bellowed across the meadow. 

Food wrapped in little gingham cloths were passed round, a parcel finding its way to your lap. You were starving you realised, as your tummy made a small groaning noise. Hastily you unravelled the packed lunch, the sweet recognisable scent filling the air around you, a smile spreading on your plump lips at today’s choice.

Cake and jam. Your favourite.

The little parcel was packed with nuts, berries, and veggies. But your sweet tooth had your fingers itching to pick up the sponge cake. Licking your lips gently, you brought the sweet slice, covered in a slab of strawberry jam to your lips. Taking a bite of your favourite sweet treat. 

Only it wasn’t sweet.

Instantly you gagged.

The chewed up cake quickly came rolling out of your mouth as you discreetly caught it in your hand.

“Is the food off?” Elodie hushed quietly, turning to you as she inspected your lunch. 

Your group always took turns bringing in food for the day. And you truly couldn’t knock your friends baking. Perhaps a little stereotypical, but fairies were very domestic. Not only great with plants and gardening, but also sewing, crafting, and of course baking. Gus in particular, whose cake you had just spat out was probably the best baker of all the Hollow. 

Shaking your head quickly, you secretly hid the chewed up cake underneath your berries. Your tongue swilling the metallic taste the cake had filled your mouth with. You couldn’t bear Gus finding out you’d spat out his food. The poor male would be heartbroken. 

“No, no it isn’t. It’s fine I promise. I don’t know what came over me,” you hurried out a whisper. “I’ve been feeling a little off recently. Maybe I’m under the weather.”

Placing her lunch to the side, your friend looked at you with her deep warm eyes, concerned etched into her brows as she gently pressed the back of her hand on your forehead.

Chewing your lip you let your friend examine you. “You don’t have a temperature…” she muttered, more to herself than to you as she began to fuss.

Leaning closer then, her hands clasped around your cheeks. Her grip was slightly firm as your lips were squished into a pout. She didn’t notice though, not as her eyes began to quickly flicker over every line and curve of your face. Her meticulous scrutiny not letting up. A glimmer of something winked across her face, catching her off guard if only for a second before her brows furrowed.

Then she began to sniff you.

“El, what are you doing?” You asked, tone annoyed and bashful, as you swatted her looming face away lightly. She was naturally quite a tactile fairy, but even this was a bit much for her. 

Elodie had sat back now, her eyes widening. It was as though you could see in her eyes the pieces falling into place, but for a puzzle you weren't aware of.

“Thank the Mother,” she whispered, her lips stretching to a smile, before she clasped your hand pulling you away from the group.

“El?” You were annoyed now. Your fingers were flexing at your sides, as she had pulled you into a field filled with tulips. The pink and orange hues swayed gently in the breeze, as an uneasiness began to roll over you. 

“It all makes sense now. How you were so emotional when you saw those baby hedgehogs the other day–”

Shaking your head, you lifted your hands in confusion. You didn’t understand.

“Your scent, your glow…your wings!”

There was an uncomfortable rising feeling under your skin at the signs your friend began to mention, the symptoms you knew all too well that were rolling off her tongue. You knew them so well because for a period of time you had analysed every part of yourself hoping to see these aspects, only to not ever see a glimmer.

It couldn’t be?

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you squinted to take a hard look at your wings. Furling the iridescent membranes closer to you, as you examined the very appendages your friend was peering so intently at.

There was nothing really different…except maybe there was. You squinted harder.

The tips. 

They’d turned a darker pink.

Your heart was in your throat, an audible gasp leaving your lips as you turned to get a closer look. Spinning in a circle, round and round. Only to find the exact thing Elodie had noticed.

“Wait, Elodie. No, it can’t be?” your lip quivered as realisation began to sink in.

You and Azriel had decided two years ago that you wanted to expand your family. Especially seeing your loved ones with their own growing families. Feyre and Rhys had Nyx and Selene. And of course, Nesta and Cassian recently had their little Athena.

Over the years you had tried everything, taking tonics, eating certain foods, you had even scheduled a very meticulous conceiving plan. But nothing worked. There had been numerous appointments with Madja, and even the healers and midwives of the Hollow. But everything you did was futile. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fall pregnant.

There was a period of time your mind tore you apart. Speculating and obsessively analysing the possibilities of why you couldn’t conceive. That perhaps it was you and Azriel that weren’t compatible. Biologically. That the Mother had made a mistake with you. That maybe things would have been different if you were Illyrian, not ‘lesser’ fae. That your own body was not strong enough to nurture his offspring. Defective somehow.

That duration of your life had been hard, and even harder to move on from. But with time, and endless love and support from your mate you eventually let go of that dream.

But now, that slither of hope was growing brighter than the summer sun beaming down on you.

Eloide, your longest friend. Had her hands clasped around yours. Her own eyes filled with a watery brim, mirroring your own.

She nodded with a smile.

You were pregnant.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel stood darkly behind his High Lord who was seated casually at the head of the meeting. Azriel was positioned on the left, Cassian on the right. The perfect guards to the Night Court. The large obsidian table stretched across the room. High Lords littered down the long ornate slab, all wearing the colours of their respective court. A few of Rhys’ closest alliances had joined for this gathering, discussing borders and peace treaties.

The meeting had begun in the morning, and by the stacks of documents officials were passing round it didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.

Azriel was focused, stood clad in his Illyrian leathers, blue syphons gleaming as the muscles in his jaw flexed. Despite this being an era of peace, with so many High Lord’s and emissaires in the room he was on high alert. His shadows gently grazed along the floor of the room as Azriel stayed attuned to the room's conversation.

One of his shadows seemed restless though, vibrating slightly behind his wing before curling up to his ear. Revealing nothing but nervous energy. 

With a subtle jolt, Azriels wings unfurled slightly as he felt a small ripple down the bond. It was skittish and nervous, unease seeping from you down the thread.

Cassian gave Azriel a sideways glance, an unspoken question if everything was okay. But Azriel only stood straighter for his answer, reclaiming his composure as he sent a gentle vibration down the warm glowing bond.

Is everything okay, my love?

You were quite a passionate soul, an empath. Oftentimes, involuntarily, Azriel would feel all types of emotion spill down the bond. It was one of the reasons he loved you, a quality he found endearing. How open to love you were, how you felt the sorrow and joy of others wholeheartedly. But this uneasiness left him unsettled.

Azriel was only met with silence on your end. Spurring him to send another ripple. His shadows started to become more restless, spreading and striking behind his wings subtly, as if displaying the uneasiness of their master or perhaps they were twitching out of eagerness for something else– for someone else.

Azriel was usually quite a composed male, cool and collected was the blueprint of his facade. Yet, when it came to you and your welfare, any patience went quickly out the window.

He was about to send one of his shadowy tendrils to look for you, to check you were okay in the meadows. Also on the verge of sending another question down the bond. Only for the large oak doors to swing open with a force that flushed the room with a gust of wind.

You.

It was you, his beautiful shining mate. 

A very beautiful dishevelled mate, however.

You were flushed, cheeks hot and rosy as you stumbled into the large meeting room. Your lovely pink dress was covered in soil, the lacy strap hanging off your shoulder. The flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning were hanging limp only by a few strands. Pink hues of light flickered across the room, as it became obvious to everyone your beautiful wings were unfurled behind you.

There had been no stopping you once you’d got your confirmation, you had flown urgently to River House. Storming through the hallways with a haste one wouldn’t usually associated with such a delicate fairy.

But you needed him. You needed your mate.

You needed Azriel, and no meeting, no court officials or High Lords were going to stop you.

Your eyes instantly found those hazel beacons, eyes locked in on your handsome shadow of a lover. If you weren’t so encaptured by him, you may have noticed the panicked scrape of Rhys’ chair as he stood in concern, or how Cassian left his post towards you. Hand twitching by his sword, ready to strike at any recognition of the danger that must have caused this display by you.

If you’d been listening you might have noticed how the room had fallen quickly into a silence, all heads snapping to you. Momentarily, eyes glazing over the iridescent lights that were now reflecting off your wings.

A very rare sight.

“What a beauty…” someone purred, although you didn’t hear them.

Azriel was beside you in mere seconds, his shadows consuming you protectively moving you slightly into the pocket realm. The tendrils coiled on the corners of your vision so you could only see Azriel, who tenderly had a hand pressed against your jaw, thumb gently grazing the dirt spread on your face. His other arm protectively wrapped around you pulling you close.

Something must have happened Azriel concluded. Fear seeped into his mind as he began to imagine the worst.

Your energy, the vulnerable look in your eyes and tousled appearance had Azriel reeling. Itching to figure out what had caused this. Had a danger broken into the court? Had his shadows missed something? Were you hurt?

“My love, what is it? What’s wrong?” there was an urgency in his tone.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. Azriel was confused. You were in a state of disarray, but he could feel nothing of the sort through the bond. Instead there was an overwhelming feeling of joy and love rippling through.

“There is nothing wrong, love…finally everything is right,” you cried through your smile.

These were not Azriel’s choice of words, but later on when Cassian and Rhys relayed the scenario to the rest of the family they said you looked a little mad. Deranged even. Your tangled appearance and abrupt entrance was unlike anything they’d seen from you.

Azriel was quick to move you from here, his shadows engulfing you both as they transported you to a small lounge in the house. He wanted you away from prying eyes, and needed to check you were safe. That you weren’t hurt. His hands were still cupped around your face as he began to inspect you carefully. His eyes analysing your expression, shadows circling around your ankles to check for anything that might explain your distress– no it wasn’t distress, it wasn’t madness, it was joy.

“Breathe my little butterfly, what’s got you so worked up that you barged into a High Lord’s meeting?” Azriel cooed, his expression softening as he recognised the vulnerability in your eyes. Large scarred hands lightly brushed your unrurly hair, his fingers delicately bringing the dress strap back over your shoulder as he tried to soothe you with his touch.

“Everything is finally right Azriel,'' you whispered, repeating the words from earlier. For a moment Azriel couldn’t understand. The disarray, the vulnerability, the uneasiness. How could everything finally be right?

But then he felt it, the rippling down the bond. That unconditional love again, joy, delight…but also relief. Relief that something had finally happened. Something you had both been waiting, praying and dreaming of.

The Shadowsinger tilted his head, his hands dropping from your face, not daring to breathe the words himself as the emotions he felt began to paint a vivid picture.

“I’m pregnant.”

In that moment Azriel crashed down onto his knees, an overwhelming sensation consuming him as he digested the truth you spoke. It was as if at that moment, everything slowly slotted into place. The clues he hadn’t even known were clues sung to him. Your scent, your temperament and emotions, your wings. Everything he had acknowledged subconsciously, had been tucked away in his mind because he couldn’t phantom the possibility– the possibility of being wrong. Getting your hopes up.

His hands softly came to your hips, drawing you closer as he rested his forehead against your stomach.

“We’re having a baby?” Azriel’s voice broke, the words barely audible.

“Babies.” You whispered back.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian had been pacing back and forth outside the lounge for well over an hour now. He’d desperately called down the bond to Nesta, who had arrived in a hurry with their little Athena in her arms. His reaction may have been slightly over dramatic. But Cassian assured her that if Nesta had seen the state you’d run into the meeting room earlier, she would be behaving the same way.

Nesta didn’t really believe him, her mate had a way of being quite theatrical in situations.

There had been no danger, Azriel had spoken into Rhys mind and it had been passed onto Cassian. So Cassian spent the time speculating on what could have brought such an uncharacteristically reaction from you. He’d seen you when things didn’t go the plan in the meadows and assumed something at work must have gone array.

Nesta sat lazily in a chair outside the lounge, book in hand. Every now and then, glancing up at her mate who was wearing a mark in the stone floor from his pacing. Cassian held his little baby while he patrolled outside the room, whispering theories on what possibly could have happened to Auntie y/n.

“I don’t know Thena…maybe the ladybirds lost their spots again?” He mused, recalling a previous drama you had shared with him once, that had sent you a little haywire last year.

“All spots are accounted for,” your voice sang. Cassian hadn’t even noticed you and Azriel had stepped out of the room.

“Sorry brother I didn’t know you were waiting for us” Azriel smiled softly, giving his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cassian’s expression softened, as Nesta came to his side. Her arm looping around his free side while she kissed her little babe on the head. “Is everything okay though?” Cassian asked, concern still lingering.

“More than okay,” you beamed, tears quickly filling your eyes again.

Cassian and Nesta glanced between you both. Their expressions desperately trying to figure out what was happening. The penny dropped for Nesta first. Her own lips pulled into a genuine smile.

“Thank the Mother” she grinned, stepping forward to embrace you tightly.

The tears were spilling then, as you hugged your friend back. Little sobs racking through your body. You thought you’d cried it all out in Azriel’s arms, that there were no more tears left to give. But now, in the embrace of your friends– your family. Reality sunk in much deeper.

It only took Cassian a few moments and a glance at Azriel’s overjoyed but emotional expression to understand what was happening.

“Truly brother?” He beamed. Azriel nodded, a small tear running down his face as Cassian bear-hugged his friend, making sure Athena wasn’t squished between the giant Illyrians. 

It didn’t take long for Cassian to start shouting it from the rooftops, bellowing down the halls of River house that two baby Shadowsingers were on their way. And of course, naturally, the day turned into a celebration, a gathering with your loved ones to toast your beautiful miracle babies. 

Later that night, after Rhys and Cassian had drowned themselves in whiskey with a competition of who would be the favourite uncle.

Azriel joined you in bed, you were propped up by plush pillows against the large headboard, night dress adorned as you gazed down at your tummy. Your hands resting lightly on your stomach.

“Finally” you whispered, as Azriel laid beside you, his own hand covering both of yours as he nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent.

He breathed deeply against your throat, relief and joy rippling through every inch of his skin, “Finally.”

a/n: Here is is!!! So sorry this took so long, I've been so busy with lots of interviews and prepping, which has eaten into a lot of my energy recently. But I hope this was worth the wait! I think the next scene that was voted for was the truth or dare/drinking games which would be set pre bond snapping/in the friendship era! So I'll try write that next unless there's something else first you'd like? Anyway I love writing about these two, their my little fluff couple <3 - Lottie x

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 05

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 11.4 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

The alarm rang.

The shrill sound pierced the morning silence.

It rang again.

And then a third time.

Each buzz felt like a hammer against your skull.

You groaned, turning over and burying your head under the covers. All you wanted was to sleep—to sleep and forget.

The alarm rang a fourth time.

Fuck.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed.

You felt sick.

By the time you hurried towards the auditorium, the sun was already high in the sky, casting harsh lights across the campus. You slipped through the doors. The lecture was already in full swing, the professor's voice echoing through the large room filled with students scribbling notes.

Finding your way to where Toge, Maki, and Yuta were seated, you quietly slid into the empty seat beside them. Maki glanced at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Why so late?" she whispered.

"Poor sleep," you muttered, keeping your gaze lowered to hide the dark circles under your eyes.

'Poor sleep' was an understatement. 

'No sleep' was more fitting.

Yuta leaned in. "After the surgery, I thought you'd be on cloud nine! You're practically a campus celebrity now."

Maki nodded. "Seriously, it's insane. Dr. Handsome letting you take the lead in such a surgery? That's crazy."

Your stomach churned at Maki's casual reference to Satoru as 'Dr. Handsome.' 

Because he was far from.

"Crazy," Toge repeated.

"It's really not that big, guys. Let's just focus on the lecture," you urged. Somehow, their congratulations felt hollow, knowing the full story was far from great as they painted it to be.

Your friends shot you surprised looks, taken aback by your restrained response. 

But talking about the surgery—the surgery you had to lead because Satoru was fucking high on some shit was really the least thing you wanted to talk about. And you couldn't really talk about it either, could you? Not really.

Maki and Yuta exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from excitement to concern. They could sense something was off, but they didn't press further. Toge only gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

As the professor delved into—... whatever he was lecturing on—your mind couldn't help but drift back to the surgery, replaying every moment—the fear, the nausea, the burden Satoru had forced onto you. Your head throbbed with a dull, relentless pain.

The rest of the lecture seemed to drift by in a blur.

Your pen moved mechanically across the notebook. You barely registered the words on the page. As the professor finished and the students around you began to stir, Yuta leaned over. "Hey, if Gojo needs a kick in the ass, just say the word. We've got your back."

You mustered a small smile. "Thanks, Yuta."

Then your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out to see Geto's name flashing on the screen. You pondered for a moment if you should even answer the call. Taking a deep breath, you answered.

"Geto—"

"We need to talk about the surgery," Geto's voice was serious, almost grave. "The university director wants to see you in his office. It's urgent."

Panic fluttered in your chest. "Has something happened? Is it about Gojo?"

"It's better we discuss this in person. I'll be there too. Just come as soon as you can."

Ending the call, a heavy weight settled in your stomach. 

Apologizing to Yuta, you quickly gathered your things. "I need to go."

Maki's eyes followed you. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure. Something's come up."

Yuta and Toge exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring Maki's concern. "If you need anything, just let us know," Yuta said.

You nodded, offering a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, guys. I'll catch up with you later."

As you hurried out of the auditorium, your mind raced. What could they possibly want to discuss about the surgery? And why now? Was this about Satoru?

The walk to the director's office felt like an eternity, each step echoing your growing anxiety. The campus around you was bathed in sunlight, the sun burning on your skin. Students laughed and chatted around you. You wanted to shut them up.

Reaching the office, you took a moment to compose yourself before knocking. The door swung open, revealing Geto and Satoru seated in front of the director's expansive desk.

"Please, come in," director Yaga gestured for you to enter.

Director Yaga moved to sit behind his desk, his face unreadable. You took a deep breath and stepped inside. Satoru rose from his chair as you approached to offer you the seat. 

Stupid Satoru, why he be so gentleman after all.

As you sat down, Satoru remained standing next to you. His hand rested on the back of your chair.

Director Yaga adjusted his glasses, his gaze sharp. "I've called this meeting to address concerns regarding the recent surgery," he stated. "It has come to my attention that you, rather than Dr. Gojo, performed the operation. I would like an explanation."

You felt a lump form in your throat, your mind racing to find the right words. Before you could answer, Satoru spoke.

"Director, I assure you, the decision to let her lead was entirely professional. Her capabilities made her the best choice for this surgery."

Director Yaga's gaze hardened as he turned to Gojo. "Dr. Gojo, may I ask you, are you out of your mind? There are protocols and hierarchies in place for a reason. Allowing a student to lead such a critical procedure is not only unconventional—it's downright mad. This could have serious consequences."

"Director, I understand your concern. However, I made this decision not only because of her exceptional skills, but also to promote her potential. It was a calculated risk, one I felt was necessary for her growth as a surgeon."

Wow. He lied very convincing.

Director Yaga seemed surprised for a second. "Promoting potential is one thing, being stupid is another, Dr. Gojo."

Gojo shifted slightly. It felt as if he moved a little more in front of you. 

At this point, Geto, who had been silent, spoke up. "I was aware of Dr. Gojo's decision and supported it. The success of the surgery speaks for itself and reflects the high level of training our students receive here. I'm sure the press will acknowledge this as well."

"Why must you two always cause me headaches?" Director Yaga sighed, rubbing his temples wearily. "Nevertheless, the media coverage has been overwhelmingly positive. It seems the press is quite taken with the story of the 'unconventional surgeon duo' at our university."

"In light of this, there will be a press conference next week to celebrate the success and highlight the university's advances in medical research. I expect the three of you to attend. It's an excellent opportunity to showcase our institution's capabilities and your work," Yaga continued.

The idea of a press conference made you sick. 

You did not want any of this. You did not want praise for something you did out of necessity. The thought of facing the media and answering questions about the surgery made you sick.

Geto's expression tightened. "And to gather more funds for the university, I assume?"

Director Yaga met Geto's gaze squarely. "You understand the game, Dr. Geto. Positive publicity translates to funding opportunities. And let's not forget, it's funding that enables us to pursue advanced research and provide top-tier education."

Director Yaga leaned a bit more over his desk. "Especially given the... unconventional methods you two seem to prefer. Remember, such reckless gambles come at a cost."

Geto exhaled deeply. "Understood, Director. We'll be there."

As the meeting concluded and you stood to leave, Director Yaga added, "This is a great moment for all of us. Let's make sure we present ourselves in the best way possible."

As soon as the door to Director Yaga's office closed behind you, you wanted noting more than to leave.

Looking at him hurt.

"We'll talk later, Geto," you said abruptly.

Geto nodded. "Take care."

You offered a quick, forced smile and hastily made your way down the corridor. Gojo made a move to follow. However, Geto reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder to halt him. "Let her go, Satoru," Geto said quietly. "She needs some time alone."

Gojo stopped. He watched helplessly as you disappeared around the corner.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, you found yourself in the university's library, surrounded by books and notes, with Toge, Maki, and Yuta. Your friends had been tiptoeing around the subject since the morning, but their curiosity about the surgery was so obvious.

"So," Maki started cautiously, "what did Director Yaga want to talk about? Was it about the surgery?"

You felt a chill at her question. "Oh, it was just some standard follow-up stuff. Nothing important."

Yuta leaned in. "But you were great in that surgery. Everyone's talking about it. You should be proud of yourself."

You forced a smile. "I am, Yuta. More or less. I just don't like the spotlight."

Toge chimed in, "Pressure."

"Yeah, exactly," you agreed.

Maki observed you closely. "And how are things with Dr. Handsome? Everything okay there?" 

You felt a lump form in your throat. "Everything's fine."

However, Maki didn't seem convinced. "You know you can talk to us, right? If something's bothering you—"

Yeah, you wished you could do that. But the reality was that you couldn't.

"It's complicated, Maki," you said softly.

Maki's frown deepened. "You know, whatever it is, don't let him get to you too much. He's just a man after all."

You knew Maki meant well, but it wasn't as simple as she made it out to be.

"Maki, it's just—"

"I get that something's going on, but remember, no matter how great a surgeon he is, or how charming he is, you are the real star of this surgery. Don't let anyone, not even Dr. Handsome, mess with that," Maki added.

You looked at her, your lips twitching upwards. "Thanks, Maki."

Exhausted, you let your forehead rest against the cool surface of the desk. "There's going to be a press conference about the surgery," you said, your voice muffled. "A celebration or something. And honestly, I'm already hating it."

Yuta perked up at this. "A press conference? That's huge! You're basically a celebrity now."

"I'd rather just focus on my studies and not be in the spotlight like this."

"Hey, think of it this way—it's a great chance to show off your talent. Plus, I heard the medical faculty is throwing a party afterward," Yuta said.

Maki nudged you playfully. "Come on, it might be fun. We'll wait for you at the afterparty when your conference thing is done."

You raised your head and rested your chin on your hand, considering their words. "Well, a party doesn't sound too bad, I guess."

Maki clapped her hands together. "That's more like it! We'll make sure you have a good time."

"Exactly!" Yuta said, grinning.

"Party!" Toge added.

A small smile crept onto your face as you looked at your friends. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Besides, as the saying goes, a little party never killed nobody, right? 

... right?

─── ·✧· ───

"Here, for your nerves," Geto said, handing you a glass of champagne.

"Thanks." You grabbed the glass and downed the bubbling liquid in one gulp. "This is quite a place."

You and Geto entered the conference venue. 

The main foyer had soaring ceilings adorned with dazzling crystal chandeliers, casting a soft light on the marble floors below. The crowd, a blend of famous medical professionals, university staff and press people, mingled in groups, all engaged in animated discussions that filled the grand space with a lively hum. 

"Remember, just stay calm and be yourself," Geto whispered as you both moved through the crowd. "You've earned your place here tonight." Then he handed you another glass of champagne, fetched from a passing waiter.

You nodded, trying to suppress the urge to flee.

The room was filled with faces, some familiar and others new. The conference area was impeccably arranged, with a stage set up at one end of the hall for speeches and presentations. Press cameras lined the sidelines. Tables adorned with floral arrangements were spread throughout the room.

"All this for a single surgery?" you asked Geto as you scanned the room.

Geto swirled the champagne in his glass. "It's more than just the surgery. The university needs money, that's why we're here."

"Looks like they're spending more than they'll earn."

Geto subtly gestured with his glass towards an elderly woman across form you. "See her? She's one of our main benefactors. Director Yaga would do anything to please her. So, we dress up, exchange pleasantries, sip champagne, and in return, she continues her generous support. That's the deal."

Your gaze followed his. "So it's all about keeping the money flowing. They're not really here for the research behind the surgery."

"Does that surprise you?"

You took a sip of your champagne. "No. It makes me sick."

Goto let out a huff. "By the way, you look stunning tonight," he remarked, his eyes tracing your form, but it didn't feel uncomfortable.

You were dressed in a sleek, black dress. Black heels. Elegant but nothing special. You didn't want to draw more attention to yourself than you already were. 

Geto walked beside you, dressed in a meticulously tailored black suit that fit him perfectly. Beneath the suit, he wore a white dress shirt and a black silk tie. If you didn't know better, you could have been mistaken for a couple, given how matching your outfits were.

"You don't look to bad yourself."

He laughed. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment."

As you mingled with the guests, you could feel the curious glances and hushed tones of those around you. Word of your role in the successful surgery had obviously spread, and now you were the center of attention for the evening.

Geto stayed by your side the whole time, introducing you to important people and making sure your champagne glass was never empty. You weren't sure the latter was such a good idea. But it calmed your nerves.

You were deep in conversation with a group of medical professionals, discussing the surgery, when you suddenly felt the atmosphere changed. Your eyes swept over the crowd and there he was—Satoru Gojo had just walked in.

Every head in the room seemed to turn in his direction, yet his eyes seemed focused solely on one person. You weren't sure you knew how to breathe anymore as his gaze seemed to pierce through the crowd, settling directly on you. It was the first time you'd seen him since director Yaga's office.

He was dressed in a sharp black smoking jacket, his bow tie perfectly knotted. But his eyes looked tired. His lips parted ever so slightly.

One of the medical professionals from another University in your group—her name was something with Tsukomu, or Tsukumo? You didn't quite get it—waved him over. "Ah, there's the star of the evening," she exclaimed.

Satoru made his way through the crowd. As he reached your group, he positioned himself next to you as if it were the most natural thing in the world—as if he belonged there.

"Dr. Gojo, we were just discussing your remarkable surgery," Dr. Tsukumo said enthusiastically. "Your work is truly groundbreaking in our field."

"Thank you, Dr. Tsukumo. However, I must clarify that the true credit goes to this talented surgeon," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You wanted to break his arm.

She laughed uncomfortable. "It's rather unusual for a student to lead such a complex surgery. Quite an unconventional approach, don't you think?"

"Unconventional, but successful," Satoru replied sharply. "Here at Tokyo University, we rather encourage innovation. Perhaps your institution wouldn't be so terrible at research if you were willing to take more risks?"

Silence.

God, what was he doing!?

Was he high again??

You looked up at him, his gaze fixed on Dr. Tsukumo. Even in heels, he was still at least a head taller than you. But he didn't seem to be high or something. He seemed clear.

Dr. Tsukumo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, Dr. Gojo, that's quite a statement. But you know, there's a fine line between taking risks and just being plain reckless."

His hand still resting on your shoulder, Satoru met her gaze squarely. "You're absolutely right. There is a fine line, and you'd be well advised not to cross it," he replied. "In this case, though, it was a calculated decision based on her proven skill, not recklessness. Sometimes embracing innovation and trusting our young talents is what drives progress, don't you think?"

Geto leaned in. "Satoru, that's enough," he murmured.

Satoru removed his hand from your shoulder and stepped back from the group. His eyes briefly met yours. "Excuse me," Satoru said curtly, before turning and making his way through the crowd.

Your eyes followed him until you could no longer see him.

As the evening wore on, one conversation blended into another.

Wow, you're so young? Already performing surgeries? How did you manage that? You must be a natural talent!

You heard it over and over—answered the same questions over and over. No one really seemed to care about the details of your work, the thought process behind it, or how the patient is doing now—or how one patient had to die for the surgery to be successful.

Recognizing your discomfort, Geto suggested, "Let's step outside for a bit. I could use a smoke." 

Following him, you left the bustling conference hall and ventured out to the quieter grounds surrounding the building. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth and buzz of the event inside. The building's exterior was illuminated with soft lights, casting a serene glow over the surroundings. 

Geto pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag before exhaling slowly. "You're doing well in there," he said, glancing at you. "Don't fret too much about it. We're just here to keep the university happy."

"Is that all?" You retorted. "Putting on fake smiles for director Yaga's sake, so the university gets positive publicity, while no one mentions how much effort it took, or that one patient had to die before it became a success?" You sighed. "This all feels like a cruel joke to me."

"Welcome to the world of research," Geto said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Why do you even stay in research then?" 

Geto paused, the smoke swirling around him. "Why? I wonder that sometimes too."

You watched him for a moment, seeing the tension in his shoulders ease somewhat as he took another drag from his cigarette. Geto, catching your scrutinizing gaze, said, "Don't look at me like that. I'm not the addict you should be worried about."

You turned your gaze away.

After a few seconds of silence, Geto flicked his cigarette away and turned to you. "You want to leave?"

You took a deep breath. "I do," you said, but then shook your head. "But I promised to go to the after-party with my friends, so I'm staying until then."

"An after-party, huh?" He snuffed out the remaining embers of his cigarette.

Upon re-entering the conference hall, the lively chatter and clinking of glasses continued. A waiter passed by, and without much thought, you reached out to take another glass of champagne.

It was your seventh or eighth glass—you had lost count. 

But alcohol was the only way you could get through another hour of talking about how brilliantly you did the surgery. Oh, how you hated it. Because you did not do it brilliantly, you did it because you had no other choice. That's a completely different thing.

As you chatted with Geto and a journalist, a waiter passed by with a tray of drinks. Your ninth glass. However, before your fingers could grasp it, a hand from behind swiftly intercepted the glass.

"How many drinks have you had already?"

Of course.

You turned around to find yourself gazing into Satoru's striking blue eyes. Geto, meanwhile, continued to skillfully handle the press. "It's none of your concern," you said to him.

"Don't be stupid. You should seriously stop drinking now, otherwise you will soon lose—"

"Lose what? Control?" you cut him off sharply. "Isn't that a bit hypocritical, coming from you?"

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands now slightly disheveled. "That's not what I'm saying," he replied, his voice softening. "I just... I don't want to see you making decisions you'll regret."

"Like revealing your precious secret?"

His jaw clenched. "Go ahead, if that's what you want. But what I'm concerned about right now is you, not me."

"Who are you trying to fool here, Satoru?"

The sound of a throat being cleared snapped you back to reality. Geto and the journalist had paused their conversation, their attention now squarely on the two of you. 

You avoided Satoru's gaze. "Excuse me for a moment," you muttered, hastily excusing yourself towards the bathroom. The door had barely clicked shut when it swung open again, and Satoru slipped inside, locking it behind him.

You spun around. "Satoru, what do you think you're doing?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk, Satoru. Not now. Not ever!"

"Are you planning to avoid me forever?"

"Seems like a good plan to me!"

Satoru took a step closer. "I know I've put you in an difficult situation, but—"

"Difficult situation?" you said, your voice rising with every word. "Do you even realize how much pressure you've put me under? Fuck, Satoru I had to lead that surgery because you were fucking high! Satoru, you're an addict!"

Satoru looked pained. "I know, and I'm sorry for that. But I have it under control."

"Control?" you scoffed. "You call that control? Satoru, that was the most important day. The only day you were supposed to get your goddamn act together! And you say something about control? You even hear yourself? You can be high on any other fucking day, but not when we operate on a fucking teenager!"

He was silenced.

Your voice cracked as you continued, "Do you even realize how scared I was?"

His brows furrowed slightly as the words left your lips. The intensity in his blue eyes was unsettling, and there was a vulnerability in his gaze that you had never seen before. You weren't used to seeing him like this, and it left you feeling strangely vulnerable yourself. 

Still, you pressed further.

"You made me do it. Because you have no control over it. So don't tell me anything about control or that I'm drinking too much when it's just my way of dealing with the damage you've done to me."

"I never meant to hurt you," Satoru said. "But I knew you could do it. I wouldn't have let you lead the surgery if I wasn't sure about that."

"That's not an excuse Satoru. It was wrong and you know it. You left me no choice. I don't know what sick game you're playing with me, but it has to stop."

"Game?" His voice rose. "You think this is a game for me?"

You flinched back slightly, the intensity in his tone catching you off guard.

He took a few steps closer. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"You consume me!" he blurted out, his voice raw. "I had it under control, I was stable until you came into my life! But now, you're all I can think about!"

"Don't make this about me," you countered sharply.

"That day, I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life," he continued, almost pleadingly, "because I knew that if this surgery failed, it would hurt you—it would kill you, and it would end the research once and for all. And I couldn't bear the thought of you crying again. Not because of me."

"You're just finding excuses."

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish it was. But it's the truth." He closed the gap between you. "God, I can't think clearly when I'm around you! I can't sleep without thinking about you! All there is is the need to be near you, and nothing ever compares to that."

This can't be real.

He could never feel this way about you.

Because someone who would feel that way would never do what he did.

"You're lying." You stepped back, your spine hitting the cold wall behind you. But he was quick to close the distance between you again.

"You're not believing me?" His eyebrow arched in question. In a swift motion, he pulled you close to him, one hand around your waist, the other gripping your jaw between his thumb and fingers. You gasped at the sudden force.

"You need proof?" he said, his words a mere prelude to the searing kiss that followed. Your eyelids fluttered closed as the immediate surge of heat and adrenaline coursed through your body. 

He pressed you against the wall, his body molded against yours. You could clearly feel the intensity of his emotions, the raw need in his movements. His frustration, his desire, his confusion—all were laid bare in that kiss.

"You drive me fucking insane," he breathed against your lip. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entry, and you eagerly granted it. Without hesitation, his tongue boldly delved into your mouth. Your lips melded against his, causing you to moaned into his mouth.

His hand moved to your hair, grasping it, forcing your head back to deepen the kiss. His mouth covered yours, demanding more, you could barely catch your breath. You were hot all over. He tasted so good. He felt so good.

You were acutely aware of every point where your bodies touched, the pressure of his weight against you, the force of his grip in your hair. His touch was like fire on your skin, igniting a yearning you couldn't contain. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer still.

You hated him.

You tried to remember that, but all good reason left you as his lips moved over your cheeks, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You found yourself giving in to the sensations, arching your neck to give him better access. His grip on your hair tightened.

Fuck, you hated him.

He lied to you.

You hated him.

Right?

Your fingers clutched at his shirt, desperate for more contact. Satoru's hands slid down your sides to hike up the hem of your dress. In a swift motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall.

The friction of his body between your legs was maddening. You could clearly feel the hard outline of him. Your breathing grew ragged, your back arching further, grinding yourself against his hardness.

"Take them off," you muffled against his lips.

Satoru pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva that briefly connected your parted lips. "What?" he gasped, his half-lidded eyes searching yours.

"Your pants," you panted.

He smirked. Without warning, he spun you around and set you down on the marble counter of the sink. The coolness of the marble beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours.

His lips found yours again, fierce and possessive, as if staking his claim. His hands pushed your dress further up, exposing more of your skin to his touch. He didn't break the kiss as he began to undo his belt, the clinking sound of the buckle sending shivers down your spine. 

His hand gripped your hips, his fingers slipping under the silk strap of your underwear. With a deft twist, he wound his fingers in the fabric and pulled them down. He gripped your hips and pulled you close to him.

"Might want to cover your mouth," he whispered against your lips.

Without another word, he positioned himself and pushed all the way inside. You bit down on your lip as you tried to stifle a scream from the sudden stretch, feeling every inch of him fill you up. The sensation was both painful and exhilarating, causing you to tighten around him. 

You clung to his neck, your chest pressed firmly against his. "Fuck... Satoru."

"Shh." He placed a hand over your mouth. "Quiet, sweetheart."

He withdrew, teasingly brushing the tip against your entrance as if to savor the feeling of your dampness coating him. Then he slammed back into you again, causing you to accidentally bite down on his hand. He didn't flinch.

Your mind emptied of all thoughts as he drove deeper and harder into you, leaving only the sensation of his thickness filling you completely.

He picked up speed, pumping his hips into yours with increasing urgency. With each deep plunge into your core, you felt yourself being stretched impossibly wide—felt his cock hit bottom again and again.

Every move he made felt so good, too good—as if he knew your body better than you did yourself.

He shifted his stance, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. You leaned back against the cold marble countertop, letting go of everything else as he changed the angle of his hips, hitting spots that instantly made your legs tremble.

You cursed, the sound dying away under his palm. You cursed yourself for doing this and cursed him for making you feel so fucking good.

Your stomach tightened and you could feel an orgasm building dangerously fast. The sound of the mirror behind you shaking grew louder, echoing through the room. But all you could focus on was the man between your legs, driving into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

"Turn around," he ordered, having already swung you around halfway. He placed a hand on your back and pushed you down onto the counter. Your heated skin touched the cold marble. You stared at your reflection, taking in your glazed eyes and swollen lips. 

Satoru locked briefly eyes with you through the mirror. "Keep quiet, will you?"

You clamped your own hand over your mouth, not trusting yourself to keep quiet. His eyes burned into yours as he continued his thrusts. Slowly this time, driving his cock into you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. You moaned into your hand.

"Fuck," he gasps, his eyes closed and brows etched in pain. "You feel so good."

Satoru pulled out and pressed back into you again, your entire being quivered with pleasure. You clenched your hand tightly over your mouth, biting down on your palm to stifle the sounds wanting to escape. Every muscle tightened.

With each thrust, he did pause briefly at the tip of your entrance, teasing your senses with anticipation, before pushing further, burying himself deeper and deeper into your core, filling you completely. It was like he was savoring every second as if this was the first and only time he could fuck you.

Your head hung heavy, your hair cascading down your forehead. Every nerve ending in your body came alive as he hit all the right spots, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

He quickened his pace again, pounding into you with a frenzied urgency that left you gasping for air. With each hard thrust, his cock pulse inside you, driving himself harder and faster towards release. Your limbs went weak as you surrendered fully to the pleasure.

And then, suddenly, everything exploded into blinding white light, consuming you whole as you cried out, muffled against your palm. Your entire body convulsed in pleasure.

"You're so fucking tight," Satoru hissed as you clenched around him. He followed close behind, his body convulsing as he released inside you, filling you completely. He collapsed against you, panting and shivering as he tried to catch his breath.

You opened your eyes, meeting Satoru's gaze through the mirror. For several moments, neither of you spoke, just gazing into each other's eyes as you felt the slow drip of his cum running down your inner thigh.

You watched the slight rise and fall of his chest as he regained his composure, the muscles in his arms tensing and relaxing subtly. His ragged breath filled the room. It stopped only for a moment as he pressed a tender kiss to your back.

Then, he pulled out of you, causing a faint wince.

"Fuck—This is...," he started, but words seemed to fail him. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his thoughts. He stepped back, pulled up his pants, and straightened his disheveled suit.

Yeah. Fuck.

In the sudden absence of adrenaline and desire, the reality of what had happened hit you hard.

What you had just done.

With whom you had done it.

Fuck, he was your professor. And even worse, an addict. What were you thinking?

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

"Did I hurt you?" Satoru's voice cut through your thoughts.

His question surprised you. As if physical hurt was the worst thing in the chaos of what had happened. Even though his firm grip on your hips would surely leave marks.

"I'm fine." You pushed off the marble counter, hastily pulling your dress down and fixing your tousled hair. 

Fuck.

Your mind raced as you watched him.

He adjusted his bow tie, his breathing still labored. His muscles quivered subtly. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his skin, making his white hair cling slightly to his forehead. When his eyes met yours you saw a vulnerability in his gaze that made your heart ache.

You looked away.

Fuck.

"I need a drink," you said, more to yourself than to him. You needed space, time to think, to process. Without waiting for a response, you unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, leaving Satoru behind. "What? Wait!"

The bright lights and lively chatter of the conference washed over you as you emerged. The noise and the crowd felt like a tidal wave, engulfing you as you navigated through the sea of elegantly dressed attendees.

Spotting a waiter carrying a tray of sparkling glasses, you reached out to take one. But before you could grasp a glass, you felt a firm grip on your wrist. You spun around to find Satoru right behind you, his expression grave.

"I think you've had enough to drink for tonight," he said in a low voice.

"I don't need you to monitor my alcohol intake, Satoru," you snapped, trying to free your wrist from his hold.

As he was about to argue further, your conversation was abruptly halted by the approach of an elegantly poised older woman. Satoru's grip loosened, and he turned towards her with a noticeable shift in demeanor.

"Mother," Satoru greeted her dryly.

Mother?

Mother?

You stood there, momentarily baffled.

His mother was dressed in an elegant dark blue evening gown that clung to her slender figure, adorned with lace and sequins. Her white hair was immaculately coiffed and cascaded down her back in soft waves.

She had steel-gray eyes that looked like a faded shade of Satoru's striking blue eyes. But there was no warmth to them as her scrutinizing gaze traveled up and down your frame. Her left eyebrow raised slightly. It made your skin crawl.

"Satoru," she greeted him in a tone that matched his.

"I can't say I expected you to show up here," Satoru replied.

She surveyed him with a critical eye, her lips set in a thin line. "Why must you always greet me with such coldness, Satoru? I am here to celebrate your success, after all."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason."

Subtly, Satoru shifted closer to you, almost as if to shield you from her piercing scrutiny. Yet, her focus remained on you. "And who is this? The talented young surgeon I've heard rumors about, or simply another one of my son's fleeting amusements?"

You bristled slightly at her insinuation.

Satoru's jaw clenched visibly. "That's enough."

"Oh, Satoru, don't be shy," she waved a dismissive hand. "She's a pretty one."

„She's talented," Satoru said.

"Oh, even worse," she mused, taking a sip of her wine. "Let's see how long this lasts. But please, Satoru, try to keep the family's dignity."

Satoru's patience was visibly wearing thin. "Shut it, mother."

His mother laughed. "One last thing, darling," she said, turning back to you. Her hand extended towards you. "Your lipstick is slightly smeared. Next time, do try to be more subtle about your affair with my son."

Satoru's reaction was immediate. "Get your hands away from her," he warned sharply, swiftly intercepting his mother's hand before it could reach you.

"Mrs. Gojo, what a pleasant surprise to see you here."

You turned your head to the familiar voice and saw Geto approaching with a courteous smile. Satoru's mother turned to him. "Mr. Geto, always the charmer," she responded, her tone suddenly devoid of all coldness.

Geto flashed a bewitching smile. "I was hoping to have a word with you. Could I steal you away for a moment?"

With a curt nod, Satoru's mother agreed. "Of course. Satoru, we will talk later." She cast one last pointed glance in your direction before allowing Geto to guide her away.

As they walked off, Satoru exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You're not the only one with a complicated mother."

Somehow, Satoru's addiction was no longer that surprising.

You quickly touched up your lipstick. "She's a bitch."

Satoru gave a wry smile. "She is."

At that moment, your phone buzzed with a new message. You glanced at the screen.

[10:44 PM] Yuta: Hey, we're all at the afterparty. You coming?

Without saying anything, you turned to leave, but Satoru's grip on your wrist stopped you once more. "Where are you going?"

"I'm heading to the afterparty."

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't much of a party person."

"Well, I might have changed that," you retorted, attempting to pull your wrist free.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Too bad you don't get to decide that."

"Don't be stupid. I'll bring you home."

"Stop it, Satoru! You have no right to care about me. I don't want you to care about me! Now let me go!"

You could see the hurt in his eyes at your words. But he released your wrist. "Please, don't do this to me," he murmured, almost pleading.

"Like you forced me to do that surgery?" Your words felt like blades in your throat.

Satoru fell silent.

Without another word, you turned and walked away. You didn't look back.

─── ·✧· ───

The pulsating beats of the club greeted you as you stepped inside. The rhythmic bass of the music pulsed through the floor, vibrating up through your feet. It was overwhelming, yet oddly calming.

Your friends were already there, somewhere amidst the sea of bodies lost in the music. Pushing through the crowd, you scanned the area for familiar faces. The club was packed. Laughter and conversations melded with the music. The sweet scent of alcohol filled the air.

Eventually, you spotted your friends huddled near the bar. As you approached, they waved you over. "There you are!" Maki shouted over the music. "We were starting to think you'd stood us up!"

You forced a smile. "Wouldn't miss this for the world," you replied, trying to sound more upbeat than you felt.

Yuta leaned in, his eyes curious. "How'd the conference go?"

"Nothing special happened. Let's just have fun tonight," you shrugged off his question. You didn't want to delve into the shitty evening you had, not here, not now, not ever.

Turning to the bar, you ordered a drink, something strong and quick. The bartender slid a glass towards you, and you downed it in one smooth motion. The liquid burned its way down your throat, momentarily stealing your breath.

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Wow, going hard tonight?"

"Just catching up," you said.

"So, what's the story? Did Dr. Handsome finally realize he's madly in love with you? Come on, there's gotta be some steamy OR drama you're hiding from us."

Her words slurred just a bit. She clearly had a few drinks already.

"You're just imagining things, Maki."

"Well, can you blame me?" Maki laughed. "Every time you two are in the same room, it's like watching a drama unfold. The tension, the glances—come on, spill it!"

Toge nodded in agreement.

You rolled your eyes. "Trust me, it's far from that."

Yuta jumped in. "Come on Maki, don't push her. We're here to have fun, remember?"

Maki punched Yuta's arm. "Oh, like you're not dying to know too!"

The group laughed, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept up in their infectious energy. You all moved to the dance floor, where the pulsing rhythm of the club's music enveloped you completely. The bass reverberated through your body.

Surrounded by the crowd, you found yourself moving to the beat. You clearly felt the effects of the alcohol, a pleasant buzz that dulled your worries. But here, in the midst of a sea of bodies, those worries felt distant, as if they belonged to another life.

It allowed you to lose yourself, to forget, if only for a while. The heat of the crowd, the scent of sweat and perfume, the sensation of being surrounded yet utterly alone in your thoughts—it was intoxicating.

Your friends were nearby, also lost in the moment. Maki's laughter rang out, clear and carefree, cutting through the music. Yuta performed a series of hilariously exaggerated dance moves. 

At one point, he attempted a robot dance, his limbs moving in jerky, mechanical motions that made everyone burst out laughing. Toge even joined in and added his own twist to the robot dance.

You laughed. You laughed so hard like you haven't in a long time, the stress and worries of the day momentarily forgotten. And you were so grateful to them, even if they didn't know what was going on.

You ordered a round of shots for the group. Coming back to your friends group, you all gathered in a small circle, holding up the small glasses.

"To friendship and unforgettable nights!" Maki toasted.

The shots went down with a burning kick.

As the night continued in a whirlwind of music and laughter, you noticed a young man weaving his way through the crowd towards you. 

He had a confident stride, a slight smile playing on his lips. In his hands, he carried two shots. You recognized him as a fellow medical student from the university, though his name escaped you in the moment.

"Hey there," he greeted, offering you one of the shots. "Thought you might need a refill."

You accepted the shot with a smile. "Thanks, stranger."

He chuckled. "Well, we're not exactly strangers. I've seen you around university. Your beauty is pretty hard to miss."

"You have a way with words, don't you?"

"Just speaking the truth," he replied smoothly, raising his glass for a toast. "To a good night."

Glasses clinked, and you both downed the shots, the liquid heat spreading a pleasant warmth through you.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, his charm and easygoing nature making it easy to talk. He asked about your interests outside of medicine, and you found yourself sharing bits and pieces about your life against the backdrop of the party's rhythmic music.

Every so often, your eyes drifted to your friends, ensuring they were still within sight. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, occasionally glancing over to check on you.

As the song changed, the young man extended his hand. "How about we take this conversation to the dance floor?"

You hesitated for a moment, a brief image of Satoru flashed through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it, drowning out any thoughts of him. "Sure, why not?" you said with a smile, as he dragged you away from your friends.

The music and the rhythm of the dance floor were momentarily exhilarating, but as you moved to the beat, an unsettling sensation began to take hold. The lights of the club began to blur, and the pulsing music seemed muffled, as if you were underwater.

A wave of nausea swept over you, and your surroundings began to feel surreal and disconnected.

He leaned in closer, placing a hand on your waist. "You want to go outside?"

You flinched slightly. His touch felt awful. You didn't want him to touch you.

Not him. 

"No, I'm... I'm going to the bathroom real quick." Your voice sounded alarmingly faint and distant to yourself.

"Should I come with you?"

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to envelop your thoughts.

Somehow it became hard to push through the crowd. Your legs barely moved at your command. Everything felt muffled. As if the sounds and lights around you weren't really reaching you anymore.

Stumbling slightly, you made your way toward the exit instead to the bathroom, each step feeling heavier than the last. Once outside, the cool night air hit you, but it did little to ease your spinning head. 

The world around you seemed to tilt and sway, the bright lights of the club's exterior sign blurring into streaks of color. You leaned against the building for support, trying to steady yourself.

This is not normal.

Something was very wrong.

Could it have been the drink?

Fuck.

Phone.

Where was your phone?

You needed to call someone.

You fumbled for your phone, wanting to call your friends who were still inside the club. Your fingers felt clumsy and uncoordinated as you tried to unlock the screen, the icons dancing before your eyes.

After several failed attempts, you finally managed to dial Maki's number. You pressed the phone to your ear, each ring echoing distantly, as if coming from far away. "Come on, Maki, please pick up," you whispered under your breath.

Maki didn't answer.

Yuta didn't answer either.

Neither did Toge.

The loud music in the club probably drowned out the sound of their phone.

Fuck.

Panic set in. You knew you couldn't go back into the club in your current state, not with the risk of running into that guy again who probably put something in your drink.

You scrolled through your contacts with trembling hands, your vision swimming. Then, without a second thought, you dialed a number. The phone barely had time to ring before he answered.

You let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say only his name escaped your lips in a whisper, "Satoru..."

That was all he needed to hear.

All he ever needed to hear.

"Where are you?" He said without missing a beat.

"I'm outside the club... I think someone drugged my drink," you stammered, struggling to keep your thoughts coherent. "Everything's spinning, I can't..."

"Stay right there. I'm coming," Satoru cut in. "Don't move, and tell me exactly where you are."

You gave him the best description you could manage of your location, your words slurring and overlapping as the world around you spun out of control. Satoru continued to talk to over the phone, telling you to hang on, that he was on his way, but his voice seemed to fade in and out. 

Time seemed to lose its meaning. 

The moments stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last. You were vaguely aware of voices and the sounds of the city around you, but they felt distant.

Then, abruptly, a familiar presence cut through the fog.

Without saying anything, Satoru's arms gently lifted you from the ground. He held you close, the warmth of his body a soothing presence as he carried you towards his car. The world seemed to spin and blur around you. Clinging to his neck, you managed a faint whisper, "Satoru..."

"It's okay, you're safe now," he assured you in a calm voice.

Reaching his car, Satoru settled you into the passenger seat of his car, securing the seatbelt around you. Sliding into the driver's seat, he started the engine. You felt his car begin to move. His hand rested on your thigh.

You twisted uncomfortably in the seat, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Hang on, we're almost there," Satoru said.

The drive felt surreal, the city lights passing by in a dreamlike blur. When the car finally came to a stop, you realized that you weren't at your apartment. "Where are we?"

"We're at my place," Satoru unbuckled his seatbelt. "You think I would leave you alone after you got drugged?"

"No, I'm fine," you protested weakly, though your body betrayed you with its unsteadiness. Satoru was already at your side, lifting you into his arms once again with gentle care. As he carried you from the car to his apartment, your head spun, and your protests faltered. "I'm fine, Satoru, I really..."

He glanced down at you. "Don't be stupid."

You wanted to argue more, but the dizziness made it hard to focus. Reluctantly, you allowed him to carry you inside. Maybe, even let yourself fall more into his embrace.

Once inside, Satoru carefully set you down on the couch in his living room. In the next second, he was kneeling in front of you and removed your heels. You flinched slightly at the touch of his hands on your ankles.

"You really don't have to do this—"

"Stop it, already. And let me take care of you," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed and lay back on the couch, your body feeling strangely heavy.

"Wait a second," he then said and went into his kitchen. You rolled over to your side on the couch, still everything spun. You reached for a cushion and laid your head on it, legs curling up to your chest. You tried your best to not throw up on his expensive looking furniture.

Your eyes wandered around Satoru's apartment. 

The open living area was spacious and airy, with large windows that let in the soft glow of the city lights. The walls were adorned with a piece of art, abstract in design, with bold strokes and vibrant colors that perhaps cost as much as your entire university tuition.

Your gaze drifted to a bookshelf lined with medical books and journals. On one shelf were several trophies lined up, each one gleaming under the soft lighting. As you focused on them, it became clear that they were from basketball matches. 

Then Satoru returned with a glass of water. "I didn't realize you were that good at basketball," you said, trying to distract yourself from the nausea.

Satoru followed your gaze and a slight smile crossed his face. "Yeah, I was not that bad."

He sat down on the couch beside you, and handed you the water. "This should help," he said revealing a few pills in his other hands.

"What are these?" you asked as you pushed yourself up a bit. 

"They help you get off whatever it is in your bloodline."

Hm. 

He must know, right?

Was it wrong to think that you were glad to know someone who was an addict when you were being drugged yourself?

Anyway, you took the glass of water and swallowed the pills.

Satoru watched you for a moment, before standing up and walking over to the kitchen again. As he returned, he had donned a pair of gloves and was carrying a syringe.

"Wait, what's that for?" you asked, eyeing the syringe.

"Hold out your arm to me," Satoru ordered as he sat down beside you. "I want to take a blood sample and run some tests."

God, always the doctor.

Reluctantly, you extended your arm.

Satoru's touch was gentle as he skillfully found a vein and drew a small sample of blood. "There, all done," he said, applying a small bandage to the puncture site. "I'll get this to the lab first thing in the morning."

Satoru tore off the gloves. "How are you feeling?"

"The room's not spinning as much," you said. "Thank you."

He reached out, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb softly tracing your cheek. "Did you see who gave you the drink?"

"I don't remember his name... but he's from university. I've seen him around."

His expression hardened, his hand dropping away from your face. You watched as Satoru stood, the frustration evident in his movements. He began to loosen the bow tie of his suit he still wore.

"You're staying here tonight," he stated.

"I'm not sure if—" 

"You're staying, no arguments," he cut in firmly.

You shut your mouth.

He took off his suit jacket and threw it over a chair. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he suggested, "You can borrow something to wear from my wardrobe," nodding towards a door across the room.

Yeah.

You wanted nothing more than to finally get rid of that dress.

It felt filthy.

Your whole body felt filthy.

You stood, but your weakened form betrayed you once more. Suddenly off-balance, you almost fell, but Satoru was there in an instant. He quickly wrapped his arm around you. 

You found yourself unexpectedly close to him. His lips hovered just an inch from yours. "You need help?"

"I'm—" you started, but the words caught in your throat as his gaze locked onto yours. "I'm fine."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Your lips lingered there, barely touching.

Slowly, he loosened his hold on you. "Call me if you need anything." 

With weak legs, you made your way to his bedroom. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a serene glow across the room. The bedroom was spacious with a large, comfortable looking bed dominating the space.

The room smelled like him.

You approached his wardrobe, which was open and neatly organized. As you browsed through his clothes, you couldn't help but notice that everything, from his shirts to his trousers, seemed to be expensive, each piece perfectly tailored.

It sure had its benefits when you were one of the most famous neurosurgeons.

Feeling a bit out of place among such expensive pieces, you reached for a pair of sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt. They were obviously his, likely to be oversized on you, but you couldn't help but notice his familiar scent lingering on them.

You threw the cloths on his bed and tried to change out of your dress. Your hands fumbled with the zipper at the back of your dress. You twisted and turned, trying to reach it, but it was no use. The zipper remained stubbornly just out of reach.

You considered just ripping it off for a second.

But then you took a deep breath.

"Satoru?" you called out.

After a brief pause, you heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom. You hadn't bothered to close the door. He appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes held a hint of amusement as he observed your struggle.

"It's this zipper... I can't get it," you said, turning to show him the back of your dress.

Satoru moved closer. "You know, that's a pretty lame excuse to get me into the bedroom." You felt a shiver run down your spine as his breath lightly brushed against your neck. Gently, he gathered your hair and swept it over your shoulder, exposing the length of your back. 

"Still, you're here," you whispered as he reached for the zipper and slowly pulled it down. Cold air hit your now exposed back.

"I'll always be there when you need me."

You inhaled sharply as you felt the dress loosen around you.

Satoru remained close to you. His warm hands reached up, brushing over your arms up to your shoulders. His fingers traced the thin straps of your dress, lingering just a moment too long, as if contemplating if he should slip them off your shoulders or not.

You didn't want him to slip them off.

Or not?

Or what was it you wanted?

In that moment, time seemed to pause. You both stood there, caught in a shared suspension, the room around you bathed in soft moonlight that filtered through the windows. The silence only broken by the sound of your heavy breathing. 

"You should get some rest," he murmured. "We can talk tomorrow."

No you didn't want to talk about it.

You didn't want to admit it.

You took a deep breath.

"I'm fine," you countered in a whisper. "I don't need to rest."

His lips drew nearer, and he placed tender kisses along your shoulder, igniting a trail of warmth that seemed to awaken every nerve in your body. His hands found your hips, anchoring you firmly to him.

"You should. It's been a long nigh."

Your heartbeat quickened. "Don't try to tell me what I need."

Satoru sighed. His lips continued their exploration, moving up your neck with a softness that belied his restraint. "Don't make this so hard," he murmured. "I'm trying to do the right thing here."

"It didn't seem to bother you too much in the bathroom earlier."

You turned around to face him. Satoru's hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer still until you were pressed tightly against him.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "And I'm sorry for that, we shouldn't have—"

"Stop, Satoru," you interrupted. "I don't want your apologies." 

He paused.

You swallowed hard. "I want you to make me forget this fucked up day."

"Not like this. You're drunk and also probably drugged," he said, but you could almost see his resolve wavering as he held you close, the contours of your bodies molding perfectly together. 

You exhaled softly, your gaze fixed on his lip. "I don't care."

Because you really didn't.

You needed him right now.

Needed the feeling of his skin on yours.

You knew it was wrong—using him like this was wrong, but you didn't care. Perhaps it was the drugs in your bloodline or the alcohol but you didn't care. You wanted him, craved the escape he—and only he—could offer you.

Satoru was close, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. The struggle in his eyes made it clear that he was losing whatever battle the rational side of him was waging. So, you waited—waited for him to lose against his self control.

"I get it, you're hurt. But this won't give you what you need and I won't use you like that."

The irony wasn't lost on you. Weren't you the one who was about to use him?

"Maybe I want you to use me?"

"God, what are you saying?" He almost trembled under the strain it took him to hold back, as his hand reached up to grasp the nape of your neck. "You'll regret his tomorrow. You'll hate me for this," he breathed out, pained.

"Then let me regret it, Satoru." Your fingers reaching up to slowly unbutton his shirt. His mouth hovered over yours, his lips grazing yours in a torturous almost-kiss, yet still maintaining that maddening distance.

"I don't care," you breathed, continuing to slowly unbutton his shirt.

As the last button was undone, the fabric of Satoru's shirt parted, revealing the well-defined muscles of his chest. Your fingertips grazed his skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. Satoru inhaled sharply.

"Listen, we can pretend what happened earlier in that bathroom was just a stupid mistake. I'm fine with that." His gaze dropped to your lips. "But we can't keep making the same 'mistake' and deny what's happening. If we cross that line again, it changes everything."

"I know. But I don't care. I can't...I need you."

With that, the last restraint he held shattered.

Satoru's lips finally found yours, igniting an immediate fire within you. 

His mouth moved hungrily against yours, deep and consuming. He didn't give you a second to catch your breath, but you didn't care. You didn't need air when you had him. 

You melted under his touch, surrendering completely. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further. The heat of the moment consumed you, and all you could think of was him, the way he tasted, the way he felt, the way he made your heart race.

The world around you faded away. 

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress you. "Tell me to stop," he said as his kisses trailed from your lips down to your neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly at the way his touch made you feel alive.

You shook your head. "I want you."

"Please, tell me to stop," he said again, even as he slipped his shirt off from his shoulders, revealing a landscape of defined muscles across his shoulders, neck, and abdomen. His hands brushed over your body, taking in the curve of your hip bones and the smoothness of your skin.

In that moment, everything that had held you back—the fear, the hurt, the lies—crumbled into insignificance. There was only the undeniable truth of what you felt for each other, a connection that was as intense as it was complicated.

"I'm yours, Satoru," you whispered. "All yours. Do whatever you want to me."

He paused, locking eyes with you. "Is that what you want? What you need?"

Yes. A thousand times, yes.

Somehow this man in from of you had the power to let you forget every rational thought. And somehow you needed this right now—needed him to make you forget all the hurt, he partly is the reason for but still—you wanted nothing more than to be his in this very moment.

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump forming in your throat.

"Then I'll take care of you."

Without breaking contact, Satoru swept one arm beneath your ass while grasping your waist with the other. Your legs wrapped around him as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. He carried you to the bed, before laying you down.

Your back pressed firmly against the mattress as Satoru followed, covering you completely. He leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His body molded perfectly to yours, as you traced your fingertips across the expanse of his exposed chest and toned abs.

Satoru pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs wider. His finger wandered under the hem of your underwear, tracing torturous lines over your skin. You arched your back upward, silently begging for his touch.

He obliged, pushing your underwear aside and sliding one finger inside you. "Is that what you need?"

You moaned softly, as he delved further into your core. His movements were slow and deliberate, your breathing quickened, becoming shallow and rapid. "Yes...yes, please..." You arched your back, urging him further. 

His other hand slid beneath you, cupping your hip bone firmly. The sensation of his finger moving within you sent shivers coursing through your veins, igniting an intense fire deep in your core. You clutched at his hair. "More, Satoru."

His response was immediate. He slipped another finger inside you, stretching you wider. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving you helpless in his grasp.

Before long, his mouth met yours once again, taking control of the kiss as his thumb brushed gently against your clit. With every stroke of his fingers and flick of his thumb, you felt yourself growing increasingly close to the edge. 

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, sweetheart," Satoru muttered against your lips as his fingers drove deep into you, burying themselves to the limit. Your grip on his hair tightened as you felt him hitting your core.

The sound of your breathless moans filled the room as Satoru's skilled hands worked their magic on your body, making you yearn for more. "You know what I want, Satoru...don't make me beg for it."

Satoru's lips trailed down your jawline and towards your neck. "Bit unfair, don't you think?" His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, sending shivers down your spine as his finger continued to thrust into you. "Wanting me to fuck you, but not letting me tease you a bit about it?"

As he made his way further down your body, you closed your eyes, surrendering yourself entirely to the feeling of him inside you. He trailed kisses all over your body until he reached your parted legs, planting featherlight kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He smiled up at you, his dark eyes sparkling with wicked intent. "But don't worry, you don't have to say anything, I know exactly what you need." He positioned himself firmly between your legs. His hot breath against your clit, making you quiver with anticipation.

He pulled his fingers out of you briefly to pull down your underwear. Then, without warning, he plunged his tongue into your core, sending you reeling with pleasure. Each stroke of his tongue sent electric sparks shooting straight to your core. Moaning loudly, you writhing beneath him, urging him onward.

He delved deeper, suckling hungrily at your clit, his tongue leveling deeper into you. "Oh God, yes...please don't stop," you panted, gripping his hair tightly as he was buried between your legs.

"God, you taste so good." He pulled back his tongue, licking over your clit and inserting his two fingers again, pumping them vigorously in and out of you. "Can you take on more for me?"

You gasped as he pushed yet another finger into you, stretching you impossibly wide. But you couldn't help but crave more—more of the intense sensations coursing through every inch of your being.

His lips closed around your clit once more. He sucked hungrily, flicking his tongue against you as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots in a way that left you gasping for breath. You tightened your grip on his hair. It must have hurt. But he didn't care.

With each passing second, your release drew nearer. He could feel it. He quickened his pace, pushing deeper and harder into you. "Come for me, sweetheart."

And then, without warning, it hit you. You cried out, your body shaking with the force of it all as he continued to suckle and thrust simultaneously, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from your quivering frame.

"Stop, Satoru..." you panted as he continued to devour your oversensitive core with his mouth. Your legs trembled. It was too much—far too much. "Fuck, stop."

He pulled away from you and moved upwards. His lips brushed softly against yours, making you taste your own arousal. "Don't act like you can't take it," he murmured against your lips. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

Your breath hitched as his eyes suddenly darkened. "You wanted me to make you forget about your fucked up day, remember?"

He pulled back, kneeling before you as he zipped open his pants and pushed them down along with his boxers, exposing his cock—pre-cum already leaking from the tip.

He lowered himself onto you again, pressing his erection against you. "You should be really careful of what you're asking for," he whispered into your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand found your throat, his grip tight. Yet, you couldn't help but crave more, wanting to surrender completely to his will. "Satoru, just...do me already," you gasped as his pressure on your throat increased.

He smirked. He knew exactly how much power he had over you.

And he liked it.

"You're so damn hot when you beg for more," he whispered against your lips.

Without warning, he surged forward, burying himself deep inside you, savoring each inch as you gasped and arched your back. You bit down on your lower lip, stifling a scream as he filled you completely, every inch of his length stretching you wide.

"Don't hold back, I want to hear you scream my name," he said as he began to move. His movements were rough and unforgiving, pounding into you relentlessly. You cried out his name, writhing underneath him as he took you without mercy.

You clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer, begging for more. But he was in control here, and he loved the way you responded so eagerly to his every move. He paused suddenly, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in.

Tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as his cock slid back in, filling you once more, sending shivers through your entire body. Then, he picked up pace, faster now, harder. Your walls tightened around him as he pounded deeper and deeper, making you feel alive in ways you never thought possible.

You clung to his shoulder blades, your fingers digging into his skin, leaving marks as he thrust into you. His eyes locked onto yours, watching as pleasure etched itself across your features. He leaned forward, bracing himself above you, and delivered another hard thrust, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips.

Suddenly, he pulled out, flipping you over onto your stomach. Before you even had time to process what was happening, he pressed you face-down into the bed, grabbed your arms and crossed them behind your back, pinning you firmly in place.

Your moans turned into cries as he hitched your hips higher, burying himself even deeper inside of you from this angle, his hardness stretching you wide. It wasn't gentle anymore, far from it. He was rough, almost cruel, pushing past boundaries until you weren't sure if you could bear it any longer.

And yet you couldn't get enough.

You closed your eyes, burying your head into the sheets. He slammed into you again and again, each time he hit bottom. Your body quivered beneath him, and you let out a series of whimpers and gasps as he pushed you closer to the edge.

He tightened his grip on your wrists, pulling you closer against him. His breathing grew ragged as he lost himself in the sensation.

You wanted nothing more of him than to lose himself.

As he buried himself deep within you once more, you felt yourself shattering. Every muscle in your body convulsed, your cries muffled by the sheets beneath you. You shuddered violently, writhing underneath his firm grip as your orgasm threatened to consume you whole.

His rhythm faltered slightly as he felt you clench around him before picking up the pace again, and soon after, he followed you over the edge. He came inside of you, filling you whole with a sharp hiss of pain.

Satoru released the grip on your wrist and collapsed over you, resting himself on his arms. He remained motionless for a moment, both of you catching your breath. You lifted your head off the sheets, swallowing hard as the sensation lingered.

He leaned down, his breath warm on your back. His tongue ran along the curve of your spine, savoring the salty taste of your skin. "Feeling better now, sweetheart?" he asked, as his cum dripped onto the sheets.

Turning your head, you caught his eye. His gaze held yours, a sly smile on his lips.

You didn't know what to say—what to think even.

There was just this man who drove you absolutely insane—your professor, your research partner, your mentor's best friend, and...

...an addict.

"You have to get clean."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: thank you for the wait dears, this chapter did turn out super long. also two smut scenes haha. i actually don't really enjoy writing these and it takes me forever but somehow i wrote two now... i blame it on ovulation. also i'm not too happy with the second smut scene but i edited it like three times already and can't seem to get it right, so i'm just posting it now. anyway thank you for reading, feel free to leave your thoughts! :) 

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[lvlyghost]

pairings: simon riley x f!reader

summary: reader suffers from a chronic illness and ghost finds out.

wc: 1.1k

tw: chronic pain, chronic illness, slight angst i think, comfort. not edited and not proofread. that's it.

a/n: sorry y'all i'm struggling a lot with writer's block lately so i'm writing these silly little things to help me out of it so don't mind me!

By the moment Ghost enters his shared office he's frowning so hard that he fears it might leave a permanent mark on his forehead. The first day wasn't unusual as it was normal for soldiers, technicians and federal agents to come and go. Gaz is humming under his breath and greets him with a slight nod when he spots him but he barely returns the gesture. His desk is full of reports waiting to be filled some labeled 'Urgent' in big red letters.

Sitting down he manages to get done the first stack of papers but his mind was lost elsewhere barely paying attention to the work he never had trouble getting done in no time. Part of him wonders if Kyle will tease him if he asked about her. But better asking him than Johnny. As he leans back in his chair, fidgeting with the pen in his hands. Gaz barely pays attention, too enraptured by whatever he's watching on his own computer.

"Where's the girl?"

The Sergeant startles at the sudden sound of his deep voice. Hard and demanding.

"Sir?" He half chuckles when brown eyes meet each other.

"Have you seen her? She's supposed to report back to me and she hasn't." It was only half a truth. She did have to report to him every progress made for future missions, give him the intel so he can report to the Captain. The thing was, there were no missions taking place soon. No black ops, nothing. But Kyle didn't know that.

Gaz lifts his brows, trying to figure out who his Lieutenant was talking about, until it hits him.

"Oh." He murmurs. "The tech girl, Lt?" He shrugs. "Haven't seen her in a few days, have you tried calling her or you know... going to the women's barracks?"

Ghost scoffs as if the mere idea was ridiculous.

"No. Guess she'll show up."

She has to.

Standing up he exits the office under Gaz's questioning look. The hallways feel endless the more he walks to the tech wing, he knows if he passes down that specific hallway he'd be able to see through the glass that serves as walls if she's there or not.

Much to his already building annoyance she's not there.

-

Rolling onto your back you squeeze your eyes shut once more. An unyielding pain throbbing in the back of your skull shoots yet another wave of nausea making you feel more miserable than ever.

It's been two days since the whole ordeal started. It began with a subtle pain that couldn't recognize the symptoms at first, merely blinking away the black dors that started to blurred your vision one afternoon when you were trying to fill the reports for Ghost, pages and pages of new intel recovered from long lost contacts online.

Saying it was hard to dig in all those dark places was an understatement. You had tried to push the symptoms of uneasiness to the back of your mind, typing and decoding algorithms for what could be days. Days without sleep or proper and much needed rest.

So, when the first wave hit you had ran to the bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten that day. Oh how you hated it. Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes and the terror began, everything went down hill from there.

Shutting the computer off you gathered your belongings. The corridors were in complete silence, abandoned hours ago when everyone went to their dorms.

You remembered picking up some of your things from the women's barracks and retreating to your personal dorm where no one would bother you. As a member of the task force you had a place for you alone —just as the rest of the team— and you're grateful because the next days were a nightmare.

The curtains were tightly closed. Not the tiniest bit of light could pass even if the sun burned brighter. The earplugs helped but they didn't do much to alleviate the external noises. Fuck why were the soldiers so loud? You asked to yourself, jaw tight in an effort to soothe the pulsing on your forehead.

After laying in the same position for another hour you decide to get up, dragging your feet in an enormous attempt to get to the bathroom. With the lights turned off you undress as quickly as you can; standing on your feet is hard enough already but you wait nonetheless for the bath to fill with cool water.

With numb extremities you step in and lower yourself, it's almost soothing and calming the way the water swallows your body and then your head. Ever since these headaches —these migraines— started to interfere, you learned that cool water could help to ease the symptoms. Time passes by and when you emerge your teeth chatter, lips turned purple but it was worth it. God was it worth it.

You're exhausted, this has taken a toll on you. Fitting your pajamas feels like an impossible task. Your head throbs with the slightest of movement. And then the door opens just a tad, reveling the dark shadow of the man you'd recognize anywhere.

"Ghost," you murmur acknowledging his presence, half shocked half embarrassed that he's right here in your bedroom. Your bathroom.

"Why is everything dark?" His voice is too loud and it makes you flinch; he's quick to notice even in the sheer darkness. He notices the whimper in your voice when he speaks too loud. He notices the way your body sags, and when he takes a step close you lean on him. Forehead pressing down on his broad chest. "Hey." He calls you, voice lowering this time. "Let me take you to the bed."

And you almost want to say something it. Make a comment about it being inappropriate but you're too sick to even do it so you let him guide you. You let him lay you down and surprises you when he follows.

Bodies curling against the other. You rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes so hard until the pain soothes. "You never told me about it."

"Never had the chance. Thought you hated me, remember?"

Ghost sighs. He had never intended for you to feel like that around him, he just wasn't accustomed to having such a nice person around him. You were so different from everything he knew.

"Forgive me, love." He mutters. "They're gonna start asking questions."

"What do you mean?" You grab him by the shirt when a sudden wave of nausea hits you. He caresses your hair in a calming manner.

"I asked Garrick about you." Before you can fight it a smile spreads on your face.

"Johnny..." you snort, regretting it the moment the laugh rattles in your brain. The Scot is about to have a field day when he finds out. "Ow..."

"Will never hear the end of it." His thumb presses down on your temple massaging the spot. "Better?"

"Yeah." There's a moment of brief silence where all you can hear is the sound of feet outside your dorm. People carrying on with their lives. "Would you stay with me tonight Lt.?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic heart - (3)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Ken's dealing with some feelings too 🥺

---

“So what are the symptoms?”, weird Barbie questioned and you were trying not to stare at the markings on her face or the asymmetrical manner in which her hair was cut.

“Burnt food, loss of appetite and motivation. Also this pain in my chest.”, you stated your common issues.

“How about dizziness?”, she asked further tapping a pen against a clipboard as she narrowed her eyes at you.

You didn’t get nauseous often but that nervous sensation was only ever when Ken was around.

“Not often.”, you contemplated.

“No, does it happen when a Ken is around?”, she asked and you couldn’t mask your surprise.

“Ah I know what you’ve got.”, she eased and it got you to feel comfortable too. She could give you a cure and everything would go back to being normal.

“But only time can fix it though.”, she shrugged her  shoulder but it only stirred up confusion within you. Nothing took too long to heal here in barbieland. In fact nothing broke in the first place.

“You’re heartbroken.”, she turned to you with her diagnosis. You didn’t believe her and so huffed a laugh, no wonder she was the odd one out.

“That can’t be it.”, you said confidently folding your arms.

“Fine. When does your day feel the best?”, she asked and as you thought back to certain moments of the day, you come only think of the moments he smiled at you.

“Ok, different question.”, she shifted her stance once she knew you hadn’t answered the first one.

“Where do feel at ease?”, she asked and the answer was instant.

“The beach.”, you lit up just thinking of the warm sand and salty air.

“Why?”, she asked and as the question settled it was as though your mind was not your own. Because all you could think of was him, his surf board, his platinum blonde hair being ruffled by the breeze, the smell of sea salt on him as his skin gleamed under the sun but as the other facts poured in, his eagerness to do foolish things just so he could impress Barbie, him passing you by at every turn, your head began to feel heavy.

It all fell into place now. You were heartbroken. Somehow in the high of it, this pain had found it’s way in.

“Unusual though, no Barbie worries about a Ken. He’s just another accessory.”, she turned away but it sparked an anger within you.

“How could you say that?”, you got up.

“Ken is so much more than that.”, you pressed your fingers on your forehead.

“I’m just stating facts.”, she said calmly while digging around for something.

But the facts seemed wrong. He wasn’t just an add on, he was just overlooked. Although many wouldn't agree, that was how you saw it, I'm every great even, he was left out.

“Alright, so you’ve got two options.”, she had a pair of rollerblades in one hand and in the other a heart shaped box of chocolates.

“Why don't you try the first one? Tell him how you feel.”, she gave you the chocolate box and patted your arm but somehow it was the worst possible solution.

“He’s a Ken. He’s bound to fall in love with you.”, she clicked her tongue and all you could feel was panic.

“What’s the second option?”, you asked and she pursed her lips.

“He’s in love with someone else.”, you argued.

“Well in that case –

But she was interrupted when you could hear the sound of heels clicking against the tiles on the stairs.

You turn to see stereotypical Barbie walk in, her complexion a little pale and her skin not so glossy under this light.

“Two Barbies in a day. That’s a record.”, weird Barbie commented as she moved to inspect her and you knew that you had to do your best effort with the first option because now that she was here, she couldn’t know why you were here to. So you gave her a smile and she returned it as you turned to leave. Thanking weird Barbie for her support, you walked down those stairs, clutching onto those box of chocolates like they were your cure.

*

Any outfit you had didn’t feel like the best, the nervousness was eating you away as you took a stroll down the streets near dream house. You knew where he would be, if he wasn’t on the beach, then he was sitting out by the steps of her house waiting to catch a glimpse of her.

And as you had predicted, he was there. Sitting in the middle, his long legs stretched out beneath the twilight sky as he fiddled with his thumbs as though he was bored. But the closer you approached, the quicker you spotted the forlorn expression on his face.

“You look a bit sad this evening.”, you stated, it got him to look up and you stopped to smooth down your skirt, knowing why you were here.

“Do I?”, he asked with confusion drenching the tone of his voice. You took a seat next to him but he looked like he was preoccupied with his thoughts.

“I don’t know why.”, he shook his head as he was slowly slipping back into his innocent and cheerful personality.

“Does being sad mess up your hair or crinkle your shirt?”, he turned to you suddenly, with worry etched in his eyes.

“I don’t think it does.”, you couldn’t help but smile because you knew nothing more than him when it came to feelings.

“Close call.”, he gave a low whistle as he set his already combed hair into place.

“I need to be perfect.”, he mumbled, his focus now on fixing his shirt.

And you thought that maybe this was the best time. To tell him that he didn’t have to be.

You pushed the chocolate box to him. Your actions getting his attention to flit back to you.

“You are perfect.”, you said not feeling strong enough to catch his gaze.

“and I like you as you are.”, you looked up at him only to see that his eyes were boring into yours, his elegant face wrinkling at the edges when various emotions flickered across his face. When it finally settled to one.

“But I’m not yours.”, he said quickly with an indifference but as a second passed his brows furrowed together and for the first time, Ken was angry.

“I’m not yours to like.”, he furrowed his brows and there wasn’t a particular moment you could point out but somewhere between hearing him say those words and the anger in his voice, it felt as though your heart had plummeted into the unknown depths of emptiness. The pain wasn’t just in your chest anymore. It was everywhere.

Barbie was heard talking to her friends a few feet away as she was approaching her house and all the bitterness on his face vanished as he turned to her.

“I have to leave to the real world.”, you could hear her and as your gaze followed Ken, you watched as the same hurt you felt, mirrored on his face. He had forgotten all about you and you just wanted to stay here, frozen forever.

“You’re leaving?”, he jogged up to her, you took the chocolate box used this diversion to walk away till the curb.

Once in the clear, you began to run, you wanted to leave everything behind.

---

Tags:

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @meowkid1000

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

The List (4)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: Metaphorical addiction

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Thank you all so much for all of your sweet comments.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 4

Blue skies turned gray; her nights filled with pain. The walls would never tell, Y/N was under a spell. She had spent too much time in the sun, fading the tan line on her left hand. Too much time drying her eyes. Too much time mourning the loss of someone who never really existed. Mrs. Barnes was dead, but with two little words-

Clear!

Clear!

Clear!

She was brought back to life.

The first time they married, Y/N didn’t read the warning label that came with James Buchannan Barnes. She swallowed too many pills way too fast. He was a stimulant, leaving her body feeling euphoric for short periods of time. Divorcing him was like getting her stomach pumped, but it was too late. The drug had already entered her bloodstream, her heart working overtime to pump the blood throughout her body. Like an addict, one small dose of Bucky had her scraping her hands and knees, crawling back for more. This time, she was older, wiser, and more importantly, she tasted the drug and knew the symptoms.

The crisp air nipped at Y/N’s skin. Her fingers tightened around her sweater wrapping herself like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Warm hues decorated the sky, the leaves of the trees their most colorful. The end of summer was near. Bucky’s men patrolled the perimeter as she strolled outside. Steve was away leaving Sam to accompany her.

Bumping his shoulder against hers, Sam laughed, “Keep turning that thing and your finger will fall off.”

Her eyes fell on the ring adorning her ring finger. The right hand halted, hovering over the left. After being married to Bucky and engaged to Loki, she forgot she was wearing a ring. It was an extension of her identity, trading one ring for another. Choosing the lesser of two evils, she had accepted Bucky’s proposal. A few days later a ring arrived in the mail. It wasn’t the most romantic proposal, but they had already been down that road the first time.

Y/N sent him a dull smile, “I’m still getting used to it.”

Sam paused, his hand wrapping around her bicep pulling her to a stop. Squinting down at her, he asked, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Glancing around, she sighed. Her head and shoulders drooped. “What am I doing here, Sam?” Subconsciously, she began twisting the ring again. “I’m engaged to a man trapped in prison for god knows how long.” She should be in prison beside him. He told her to go. He gave her a second chance. Bucky deserved one too, didn’t he? “I don’t want to marry Bucky just to end up divorced again. It was awful enough the first time. I can’t do it again.” She shook her head, her voice just above a whisper, “Not with him.”

The man hummed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Sam might not have known Bucky as long as Steve, but he had known Bucky with and without Y/N. He knew enough to know Bucky had never loved a woman more than he loved Y/N. It was the reason he kept her separated from his work in the first place. “Y/N, Bucky loves you. Probably more than he should.” Sam smirked. “But if you two go through with this and it ends in a disaster, it won’t end in a divorce again. You understand that right?”

Y/N glanced up at Sam, his eyes filled with sympathy. The only reason the marriage ended in a divorce was because Bucky kept her at arm's length. If he lets her in and the marriage runs its course, it will end in body bags this time. Biting her bottom lip, she nodded, “I know, Sam.”

Sensing there was more, Sam asked, “But?”

Squinting one eye, she sealed her lips. It wasn’t a secret that she loved Bucky too. Their love had never been an issue. “Loki already wants me dead. People die every day in this world, your world. I just wanted to be a part of Bucky’s. Most plants die without sunlight. I can’t grow with him if he keeps me in the dark.”

Sam pressed a hand between her shoulder blades, encouraging her to continue walking. “Well, little flower, I’d hate to see you get plucked from this world but if you are, let me know what flowers you want on your tombstone.”

“Catskills.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That was quick, have you thought about this before?”

Ignoring Sam, Y/N continued walking. “Well, assuming I’ll probably be dumped in a body of water, Catskills grow near water. They also require a lot of sun and well, the word cat is a play on the phrase “curiosity killed the cat.” She pointed at herself. “I’m the cat.”

Sam snorted, “You’re sick, Y/N, but catskills it is.”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back, heading toward the house, her home. The sun was drowning in the trees. Another day wasted, another day Bucky was behind bars and Loki was loose. Tires screeched up the driveway catching everyone’s attention. Steve was back.

Y/N began to step toward Steve, following as he extended a leg from his small black car. “Y/N, hold up a minute,” Sam called, jogging to reach her. “It’s getting late, why don’t you head inside. Give Steve a minute to get settled in before you start asking him questions.” Y/N hesitated before nodding. Her feet carried her toward Bucky’s bedroom.

Steve never said where he was going but she was hoping he had visited Bucky. She didn’t like the idea of Bucky sitting alone in a cell. She felt guilty sleeping in his bed, their bed, alone. Opening his closet, she snatched a plain t-shirt from a hanger pressing it to her nose. It still smelled like him, well, his detergent anyway. Regardless, it was a scent Y/N was familiar with.

A knock on the door had her breathing in the scent one more time. It was only a matter of time before Steve came to check on her. Before she could pull the fabric from her nose, the door opened. Y/N jumped, throwing the t-shirt back in the closet.

“S-sorry, I didn’t see anything,” an anxious Peter held his hands up.

Y/N huffed, her back pressed against the closet doors. With her hand clutching her chest she asked, “Peter, what are you doing here? Does Bucky know you’re in his bedroom?”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting around the room, taking it in. To Peter’s surprise, his boss’s bedroom was normal. Having been off limits, Peter always assumed there was some big secret locked away but maybe the secret was that the mobster was just like everyone else. Clearing his throat Peter answered, “Steve sent me. I have some news.”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed. Crossing the room, she carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Good or bad news, she wasn’t sure she should stand. With a friendly smile, Y/N patted the silk sheets, an invitation for Peter to sit.

A panicked look crossed Peter’s face, a blush tinting his cheeks as he pulled at the collar beneath his suit jacket. Peter shook his head, opting to stand in the doorway. He had already overstepped his boundaries by being in Bucky’s room, he wouldn’t chance sitting on his bed with his fiancée too. “I’m fine here.”

Y/N shrugged, folding her hands in her lap.

“Mr. Stark pulled some strings. Bucky is getting out soon, for good behavior and um-” Peter peeked at an index card in his pocket. “Steve wants you to come to him the next time Loki calls.” He glanced back up at her to gauge her reaction. It was blank. “He wants you to answer so he can trace the call.”

“I-is that all?” she rasped, struggling to find her voice. Y/N was glad she decided to sit. She would have been jumping for joy at the news that Bucky was being released, but the reality of their situation would have knocked her off her feet. Loki was still lingering. Bucky’s release means he won’t be surrounded by law enforcement. He would be an open target.

Peter peeked down at his note card once more. A shadow cast over the card causing Peter to jump further into the room. Peter shoved himself between Y/N and the six-foot mobster looming in the doorway. His hand hovering over the gun on his hip.

Steve held up a hand dismissing the young man. “I’ll take it from here Parker.”

With one last survey of the room, Peter disappeared down the hall. Steve entered the room, closing the door behind him. Unlike Peter, Steve didn’t hesitate to claim the spot beside Y/N on the bed. He had spent many nights inside Bucky’s room consoling his friend after the divorce. The bedroom alone had become a second home to Steve.

The blonde ran his hands down his thighs, “Loki’s in hiding. Nobody has seen or heard from him. No one except you, that is.” He pointed at Y/N. “You’re our only lead on Loki. I’m sure he’ll drop his number once you answer his call. He has to know you’re here, but he doesn’t know about the engagement. The wedding should be enough to draw him out of hiding once he gets wind of it-”

“What?” Y/N interrupted, her eyes wide. “You are not using my wedding as bait. This is my marriage-”

Steve snarled, “One that you already ruined. If you would’ve kept your nose out of our business, none of this would be happening right now.”

Y/N flinched, nearly missing one of Steve’s hands waving. “Is that what you think, Steve? That I caused all of this?”

He could hear the heartbreak in her voice. Steve ran his hands through his hair. He meant it but he hadn’t meant to say it. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was frustrated. Everyone in the house was on the hit list and his best friend was behind bars. The last thing he needed was Y/N not cooperating to put an end to the hitlist. Resting his head in his hands, Steve replied, “You didn’t see him after you left. I was there. I saw how you broke his heart. He’s finally back on his feet and you come waltzing in and suddenly you're engaged again.”

Y/N frowned, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Sure, Bucky and Y/N were affected by the divorce, but she didn’t think about how it would affect everyone around them. She had no one after the divorce. All of Bucky’s friends, all of his men, chose him. How could they not, they were his friends first, his men first. She swallowed a lump in her throat, “Was it too much to ask to be involved when Bucky came home covered in blood? He never came home like that Steve, ever. Bucky didn’t respect me as his wife. He treated me like a child, like a princess. He chewed me out that night. I thought he was going to kill me.”

Steve shook his head, “He was scared. He was trying to push you away, so you’d stop asking about the business. If someone else didn’t kill you, he might have had to. He never wanted to lose you.”

Y/N smiled sadly, “I know. That’s why there won't be any more secrets. No more double lives. I think he gets it now.”

The blonde nodded, placing his hand over hers on his shoulder. “Bucky will want to marry as soon as he’s out. The sooner the better. His court date isn’t set yet but they’re starting to gather testimonies. They can’t make you testify against Bucky if he is your husband.”

Y/N flinched again, yanking her hand away. Steve’s head snapped toward her. “Is that why he asked me to marry him? So, I won’t snitch on him?”

Steve huffed a laugh, “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. Bucky loves you.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m in a trap?” Y/N whispered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Standing Steve began to pace around the room, spiking Y/N’s anxiety. Was Bucky really using her? Had he used her desires against her? Had all of those moments between them been a lie?

Steve stopped in front of her, a hand on his hip, the other carding through his beard. Exhaling through his nose he said, “Look, there is no life with Bucky if Loki gets to either of you first. Bucky left me in charge, this is the only way.”

Y/N turned her head hiding the tears spilling down her face. Her fingers bled trying to play a guitar that was out of tune. Bucky and Y/N would never work. He would never fully let her in. They were destined to dance on their toes around one another, never comfortable enough to put their heels down.

“I won’t marry him. Not like this,” Y/N croaked, slipping the ring from her finger.

Steve growled, falling to his knees in front of her. Snatching the ring, Steve jammed it back on her finger. Y/N yelped at his hostility.

“Quit being such a child, Y/N. If you want to be in on the plans and treated like an adult, then you need to act like an adult,” Steve snapped.

Bucky’s words echoed in her head, If you wanna be a big girl then you have to make big girl sacrifices. Surely, this wasn’t what he meant.

“This wasn’t Bucky’s idea, it was mine. He doesn’t know anything about it.”

“What,” Y/N hissed, glaring at the blonde.

Steve stood, running a hand down his face. Y/N continued to glare up at him, feeling no less smaller than him even while he towered over her. The corner of Steve’s lips twitched upward. This was the reaction he wanted. Steve licked his lips, trying to hide his smirk, “I am merely advising you.”

Y/N cocked her head, “Advising me?”

Steve slowly nodded his head, “That little training session the other day wasn’t just for your safety. If you’re going to lead a mob, you’re gonna have to know how to use a gun without closing your eyes. It also helps if you can keep your emotions in check and learn when someone is trying to get under your skin.”

Before Steve could finish his last sentence, Y/N was kneeling on the bed, shoving Steve as hard as she could. The six-foot man stumbled rubbing his chest. “You better explain yourself right now Rogers, no more games,” Y/N yelled.

When Steve was steady, he grinned, “My first visit with Bucky, he asked me to get you ready. He wants you to take his place until he gets out. Think of it as a trial run.”

“With Loki out there?” Y/N asked in disbelief, pointing to the window.

“Who better to take down Loki than the person he was closest with?” Steve mused.

Y/N jumped off the bed nearly slipping on the silk, “I don’t know, literally anyone else?”

Steve rolled his eyes, his hand on the bedroom door, “In chess, the queen is most powerful. She can move across the board. The king can only move one space at a time. There’s no room on the board for a princess. You have more power than you think. Think about my advice Y/N. You only get one shot at this.”

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@vicmc624 @winterslove1917 @hangmanscoming @globetrotter28 @athenabarnes @shara-ne @mal-adaptive-dreams @jvanilly @d3m0n8ch1ld @ppbhquinn @alysianc @firstcashheroathlete @malum-forev @missvelvetsstuff @animegirlgeeky @blue786sworld @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @alessandraavengers @ozwriterchick @nerdgirljen @emily-roberts @pandabearrrrrrr @venting402 @barewithme02 @introverbatim @buckybarnessimpp @mega-kittyglitter-1 @a-poor-gryffindork @toriluvsfics @samahenoyrhye @motivation-idontknowher @pics-and-fanfics @po55um @devil1112 @keeperofsecrets6411 @natasha-died-4-our-sins @marvel-marauder16 @sugamilkteaxkookiesxcream @mcu21lover19 @imgaybutimstraight @buckysbarne @playboystark @sarge-and-caps-princess @eviltinkerbell14 @quethekillerqueen @barewithme02 @buuuuuuucky @reader-without-a-story @5lutty5arah @queerqueenlynn

[sempersirens]

a bird in your teeth, IV

masterlist

summary: joel helps reader seek closure, and a confession is made

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, neighbour!joel, age gap: reader is early-mid 20s, joel early 30s. no break-out. graphic violence, kinda torture/revenge. sweet, tender smut. allusions to past SA. general symptoms of PTSD

a/n: well... here we are. lots going on here. much to think about. i have never written smut before so this was terrifying. this turned into a slightly self-indulgent story about healing and safety, so if you want something a bit grittier and (mildly) canon oriented, look out for my new joel series, sun bleached flies, coming soon! let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist!

i wish i could kiss you all so please take my love in the form of this series finale 🩷

word count: 3.1k

"What's this asshole's name?"

"Elijah." You winced, saying his name aloud for the first time.

Using his name felt like a confirmation of something tangible attached to your bruises and nightmares; you were screaming his existence into a hole, wishing you could bury it.

You almost felt as though he didn’t deserve a name, as if it unjustly humanised him. It made you think of his mother, although you didn’t know her, looking down to her newborn child and bestowing him with a name. Was he the same boy she had cradled in her arms? Nursed into this world? Did his name give him personhood, a persona to grow into like a suit that was two sizes too big?

"You know which apartment it is?" Joel asked, turning the ignition off.

"First left on the ground floor. I won't be long."

"Remember, sweetheart, m'right here. You holler if you need me."

You braved a smile in Joel's direction, tugging at the sleeves of his borrowed sweatshirt. You stepped onto the street you had so desperately needed to escape earlier this morning.

The sky brimmed with darkening shades of grey, and thunder rolled in the distance. It was a welcome dichotomy to the earlier sunrise; the bleakness almost energized you, the threat of a downpour resonating with your own current temperament.

Approaching the front door, you pulled your shoulders back and lifted your chin, sucking in a breath as you pressed the buzzer. The door clicked open without any questioning. Idiots.

You weren't exactly harboring a Kill Bill-esque revenge fantasy, you simply told yourself you were returning under the pretense of needing to retrieve your boots. With any luck, Elijah wouldn't even still be at the apartment.

Your time spent with Joel had helped stabilise you back to the present. After your bath, he'd let you borrow a sweatshirt and some sweatpants, as well as help you squeeze into Sarah's one-size-too-small trainers. Joel was a calming presence. You were so grateful that just being next to him seemed to ground you. You knew that you wouldn't have been able to make it back to this fucking apartment without knowing he was waiting for you only a few feet away. There was an edge to Joel you could never quite put your finger on. A haze that darkened his features every now and then; blink and you’d miss it. You thought that in anybody else this would scare you, an almost feral unpredictability, but with Joel, it somehow made you feel even safer.

"Oh, hey!" Mark greeted you as he stepped out of his apartment. "I'm just heading out, but Elijah is still asleep. Let yourself in!"

"Is Daisy still here?"

"No, she left an hour or so ago. I'm sorry, I really have to run!"

Leaving his apartment door wide open, Mark rushed out checking his watch and cursing under his breath. You stood staring in for a few moments. In and out. In and out. You repeated to yourself.

Empty plastic cups and glass bottles littered the surfaces in the lounge, remnants of white powder still visible on the countertop.

It was hauntingly silent as you walked down the hall. With a breath, you creaked the bedroom door open. Your boots were in the same place you'd left them, kicked off between the door and the bed. Elijah faced away from you, softly snoring with the duvet half wriggled off his body. He was shirtless, with his trousers mangled around his ankles.

There were small drops of blood dotted on the bedsheets and pillow, causing you to bring a hand to your bottom lip. Your fingers began to tremble. In and out, in and out.

He looked peaceful.

Why did he get to sleep uninterrupted by flashbacks? Why was Elijah not tossing and turning, screaming out in his sleep, unable to separate the past and the present? The calm rising and falling of his chest felt like a knife in the back. You felt your heartbeat rising rapidly. You knelt down to pick up your boots, instinctively launching one heel-first at his resting head.

"What the fuck?!" He scrambled in the sheets, bringing a hand to the back of his head to check for blood. There was none. He was just fine.

You closed the gap between you both, gripping the longer part of your boot to bring down the flat but heavy heel onto any part of his body you could make contact with.

Elijah tried to block the impact, but you were being powered entirely by a rage that had grown so deep inside of you, you didn’t know where it began and you ended.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He cried.

"You hurt me. You fucking hurt me. You. Hurt. Me. And if I have to relive it each night, so should you."

Years of holding it in until you couldn’t breathe and bleeding from biting your tongue came bubbling to the surface. You were screaming now. Spit flew from your mouth with each word you spat at him. With every hit, you screamed.

"Stop! Stop it, you’re fucking crazy!”

This time, you spat directly at him. You stood back and caught your breath, chest heaving.

“By the way, that’s what a decent person does. They stop when somebody tells them to stop.”

Not wanting to spend any more time looking at his pathetic cowering frame, you snatched your other boot and left.

---

"You done what you needed to do, sugar?" Joel asked, tightening his grip on the steering wheel despite the engine being still switched off.

You pulled your seatbelt on, still trying to catch up with your heart rate.

"I got my boots back. Wasted more energy on him than he's worth."

"Good, that's good, honey. I'm real proud of you. Just stay in the truck f'me."

"What? Joel, where are you going?"

He stalked around to the back of the truck, swinging the doors of the trunk open. You watched him in the rearview mirror, he took a moment to search for something that you couldn't quite make out before slamming the doors shut.

"Won't take long." He shouted back to you, walking towards the apartment you had just exited.

Was that? Surely not... He was swinging a fucking hammer beside him.

Joel barged his shoulder into the apartment door, which swung open on impact, before disappearing into the building.

Joel didn't often let this side of him take control. Over the years, he had learned how to deal with the burning vision of red that overcame him when somebody wronged the people he loved. Before Sarah, it had always landed him beside Tommy in jail rather than on the other side of the metal bars. But when Sarah was born he knew it was time to grow the hell up and take control of the white-hot rage, rather than let it control him. Sometimes he would feel his grasp on it loosen, usually when Sarah got slide-tackled during soccer, or a distant relative of his ogled you from across the kitchen at a family barbecue.

In those moments, Joel could easily reason with himself that his seething anger was somewhat unjustified. He would take a couple of deep breaths, squeeze his fists around something until they turned white, and return to normal.

However, right now, he was entirely justified.

As soon as you had told him you wanted to go back, he knew he had to contain his need to go in and kill the motherfucker who had hurt you. He knew you were completely and utterly capable of tying your own loose ends and looking after yourself. You were the strongest, most resilient damn woman he'd ever known. It was important that you did everything you needed to do to heal without him making the situation about himself by going in all-guns-blazing. But he also knew that as soon as you had done your bit, he wouldn't forgive himself if he just sat there idly.

He had thought long and hard about what he would do to a man who could bring themselves to hurt you.

"Elijah?" He called through the apartment, kicking down every closed door he passed.

On the third go, Joel found Elijah scrambling to put his clothes on, blood dripping and bruises forming on various parts of his scrawny torso. Joel smiled to himself. That's my girl, he thought.

"Who the hell are you?" Elijah's lip wobbled. His eyes flicked back and forth from the hammer in Joel's grip to the black of his eyes.

"Sit the hell down," Joel ordered, pulling out the chair tucked into a desk beside him.

"I ain't doing shit you tell me, man."

Joel chuckled, connecting his fist with Elijah's nose.

"I said, sit the fuck down." He grabbed a fistful of Elijah's hair, throwing him down onto the wooden chair with a crack.

He kept his grip on Elijah's hair and brought the head of the hammer to press painfully on his balls.

"You like hurtin' women, huh? Make you feel like a man?"

"I don't know what the fuck she told you, but she's a liar."

"See, from where I'm standing, pretty fuckin' ballsy of you to be lyin' to me right now." He pressed the hammer down harder. Elijah sucked a breath in through his nose deeply and squeezed his eyes closed.

"Uh-uh-uh. You keep your eyes on me."

Joel took his hand from Elijah's hair and grabbed his wrist, throwing his hand flat on the table. He brought the hammer down on the back of his palm. Elijah screamed, his face contorting with the pain of his shattered knuckles.

"Tell me her name," Joel demanded.

No response. Joel brought the hammer down onto Elijah's thumb.

"I said, tell me her fucking NAME."

Elijah cried out a strangled response, "I don't fucking know, okay! I don't know, I don't know!"

His sobs were pathetic. Snot was dripping down his face and into his mouth, he was choking on his own tears.

"You don't know? You tried to rape her, but you don't even know her fuckin' name?"

Joel took a step back, running his hand over his beard before connecting the hammer with Elijah's right kneecap. Joel placed his hand hastily over Elijah's mouth, muffling his loudening screams. In this position, Joel locked eyes with the quivering remnants of the boy in front of him.

"You don't even fuckin' deserve t'know her name. You go near her again, you breathe in her direction, she passes you on the street even, she will tell me, and I will hunt you down. Make this little encounter seem like a trip to fuckin' Disneyworld. Understand me?”

“Yes, I understand.” Elijah cried.

“Say, yes I understand sir.” Joel demanded, finishing off his wrist with the hammer.

Another scream. “Yes, sir.” He sobbed.

---

The drive back to Joel's place was silent. You didn't need to ask what had happened. Even you had heard the screams coming from inside of the apartment; you only hoped the neighbors hadn't been home.

It should’ve scared you, he should’ve terrified you. But you had never felt more safe. You felt protected.

As he pulled into his drive and switched off the ignition, you both sat motionless.

"Sweetheart... I hope I haven't upset you." He spoke softly.

Your turned to face him.

"That couldn't be further from the truth."

"I really didn't wanna take anythin' away from you. M'so proud of you for handlin' him yourself. I just couldn't sit by without doing anything."

Oh, god. This was it. You knew what was coming and you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

"Joel, I'm in love with you."

His eyes grew wide and you felt your heart tumble into your stomach. After everything you had been through in the past twelve hours, you couldn't fathom spending another four years pretending you didn't feel something that you had since you first set eyes on Joel.

You had been through so much in your life. You had received nothing from the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally. People had always told you how to live and who to love. Relatives had urged you to just see things through with your close family because family is family. You were supposed to just suck up years of neglect and disrespect because of relation.

But where were they now? After one of the most traumatic experiences of your life, Joel and Sarah were the ones you fell back on for support. They were the ones you loved and who loved you. You had decided life was too short and precious to not tell Joel how you felt.

"Sweetheart... you don't know what you're saying." He laughed nervously.

Joel was terrified that the trauma of the day had just gotten to you and that when you woke with a fresh head the following day you would regret your confession.

"No, Joel, don't fucking do that. You can't tell me in one breath that you respect me too much to deny me agency and then disregard me in the next for being too emotional. You don't have to feel how I feel. I adore you and Sarah far too much to let this change anything. But I had to be brave and tell you that I fucking love you or I would've regretted that forever."

"Get in the house." His tone was stern and he climbed out of the truck without looking at you.

"Don't tell me to get in the house like I'm your damn dog, Miller. Who the fuck do you think you-."

Before you could finish your sentence, his hands were cupping your cheeks, lips crashing into yours. Like everything else he did, the way Joel Miller kissed was consuming. You both found rhythms in one another's breathing, sinking into the kiss like it was the only way to pump oxygen through your bodies.

You felt like a teenager engulfed by the first taste of love. It wasn't messy, you fit together perfectly, but it was chaotic. You were both so desperate to take in every single essence of each other. Joel had backed you against his front door, his body pressing into yours, his kiss deepening by the second.

"I told you," he breathed, "get in the house... because once I started this, I knew I wouldn't wanna stop." He reached into his pocket to find his key, quickly stabbing it into the lock as you both crashed inside.

"Sweetheart, I have loved and adored you since I first laid eyes on you."

His lips found yours again, losing his hands in your hair and up your sweatshirt, desperate to touch any part of you he possibly could. He wanted to learn everything about your body. Each curve and dip, every stretch mark and scar. Joel wouldn't sleep until he had memorized every inch of you.

"I remember everything about that first time we met," he broke the kiss to speak, moving his lips along your neck, up your ear, across your shoulder.

"You were wearing that tight little denim dress. Pink fluffy slippers. Wichita Lineman was playin' on the stereo. I stood outside your door for a few minutes just listenin' t'you singing along.”

"Joel-" you moaned, just as hungry for every single part of him.

"I ain't finished yet, honey. When you came over that night, you told us your favorite fruit was figs, and y'favorite flower was hydrangeas. You blushed real bad when Sarah asked if you had a boyfriend. Had to hide my grin when y'said no."

"You got a mole, here," he tapped your back, "here," your left shoulder, "and here," his finger lingering on your chest.

"Joel Miller," you breathed into his neck, unable to stop touching him for a second. "You better take me up those stairs right now."

The look growing in his eyes was one you had never seen on him before. Nobody had ever looked at you with such palpable desire before. Before you could protest, he threw you over his shoulder and marched you upstairs to his bedroom.

He delicately laid you on top of the sheets, still messed and crumpled from earlier.

"If this gets too much, or y'just wanna stop, you tell me. I am completely at your mercy, baby."

Joel made light work of peeling his baggy clothes off you, discarding them to the side of the bed. You reached up, giggling, pulling his shirt over his head. After taking it off, he sat back for a moment taking in the view before him that he had imagined countless times. The real thing was so much sweeter.

Greedily, he trailed kisses down your body, taking every ounce of you in his mouth. When he got to your stomach, he leaned back once again and hooked a leg over his shoulder. This time, he started at the tip of your toes and slowly made his way to your thigh before switching legs.

"I worship you, baby. Every damn inch."

A moan escaped your lips as he pressed a kiss against the base of your thong. He trailed his mouth lightly up and down, peppering kisses against your clit, softened through the material.

"Please, Joel." You choked, looking down at him ready to devour you.

"Tell me what you want, honey."

"I want your mouth on my pussy. Please, baby."

He groaned at your words, sending vibrations coursing through you.

"Good girl."

Joel pulled your panties to the side, wrapping his lips around your sensitive spot. He was a deadly mix of rough but tender, making you cry out his name as his tongue circled your clit. Everything inside of you tightened, intensifying as he inserted a finger, his mouth still on your pussy.

His finger curled inside of you, pressing against that sensitive spot in your wall. Your hips bucked upwards, earning a small laugh from Joel. He added another finger, curling his big calloused fingers inside of you.

"That's it, baby, come for me." He knew you were close before you did. You felt yourself tighten around his fingers, his tongue unrelenting in its assault on you.

The moans that were coming out of your mouth were noises you had never made before, obscenely mixed with the squelching of your wetness.

"Joel, fuck!" You shouted as your orgasm took over. Your fingers gripped Joel's hair as he worked you through your climax.

When your breathing started to calm down, he moved up your body, sucking and nibbling at bits of skin on his way up. He reached a hand around your back to unhook your bra, pulling it off to run his tongue over your nipples.

Freeing himself from his jeans, you gasped at the bulge pressing against his boxers.

"We'll go at your pace, honey." He reassured you, taking your chin between his fingers and placing a kiss on your forehead.

Joel pulled off his boxers and spat on his hand, coating his thick cock in his spit. The scene made you roll your head back.

"Prettiest girl I ever fuckin' saw." He said, positioning himself at your entrance before pushing in slightly and leaning over you.

Not once did he break eye contact. You were so used to men flipping you over and using your body, the rawness of his gaze made you feel like crying. He didn't hold any power in fucking you, or use your body to get himself off. Every movement, every kiss, was your bodies working together. Sex with Joel was healing.

He eased his way into you, both moaning at the feeling of him finally inside of you.

Joel's pace was slow but deep. He would take himself all the way out, then slowly slam back into you before repeating over and over again. Sweat dripped down both of your foreheads, his hands cupping your face. Your bodies pressed together like you had done this hundreds of times before.

There was no one else who had ever made you feel safer, and there would never be anybody else. All of your walls, years in the making, had come tumbling down. You no longer feared letting Joel really see you, and you saw all of him. There would be no more pretending or holding back.

"I don't want nobody but you, baby. I fuckin' love you."

"I love you, Joel. I love you, I love you."

[emira-addams]

Dude I asbsplutely loved ur velvette and Odette fic??? And I was wondering you take requests? I was hoping i could request some emilute!! (Emily x Lute) us emilute shippers are starving

Hazbin Hotel - Emily x Lute - Drag Me to Hell

"No!" Emily almost shouted at her sister, while tears gathered in her eyes and blurred her vision. Again and again she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "You can't just kick her out of Heaven. She has nowhere to go, they'd rip her apart in Hell!"

Sera crossed her arms sternly in front of her chest "I'm so sick of Lute's permanent misbehavior!" she scolded. "She's always causing problems. She doesn't go to her appointments with her doctors and her sessions with her therapists. She refuses to take her medication. She bothers the other residents of Heaven, she scares them. She can't control her emotions and she's not seriously trying to get better." Sera sighed sorrowfully. "Emily, I have to think about the greater good for all the residents of Heaven, I'm responsible for all of you and I can't allow Lute's misbehavior any longer..."

"Sera, please... Don't give up on Lute so soon..." Emily pleaded, her voice full of despair. She looked intently at her sister, her vision blurred with tears. "Please, Sera, don't kick Lute out of Heaven... I promise you, I'll make sure Lute does everything you want... I promise, I'll take all responsibility for her!"

Sera's cold gaze started to warm slightly. Somehow she was proud of Emily, her little sister really wouldn't give up on any soul so easily. "All right," she agreed to Emily's suggestion. "But you're completely responsible for Lute and if she misbehaves again, I'll kick her out of Heaven for good..."

"Thank you!" Emily squealed and threw her arms around her sister's neck, hugging her tightly while beaming with joy.

"Good evening, Lute!"

Emily found Lute on the edge of Heaven, sitting silently on the ledge and staring down into Hell. Her shoulders sagged and her legs dangled in the void. Once again, Lute hadn't shown up for one of her appointments.

Too lost in her thoughts, Lute winced, startled. She looked up, confusion reflected in her glassy eyes as she looked Emily up and down. "Hey, Emily..." she greeted the youngest Seraphim hoarsely. Her voice rasped with dust, so rarely had Lute used it recently. "Can I help you?" she asked politely. She contorted her face into a grimace and made an effort to smile for Emily.

"No," Emily replied bluntly, joining Lute on the edge instead.

"Why are you here?" Lute wanted to know quietly, her voice wavering and the hand in her lap trembling. She was looking bad. Black circles under her eyes formed a stark contrast to her sallow skin, she was terribly pale and her body trembled. Golden blood stained the bandage around the stump of her left arm; it had probably not been changed for days.

Emily sighed sadly. "I'm here to help you..." She put her hand on Lute's remaining one to stop her trembling. "We all want to help you, the doctors and the therapists... So tell me, why are you skipping your appointments?"

"I don't know?" Lute shrugged her shoulders, slowly lowering her heavy head to rest on Emily's shoulder. She enjoyed her warmth, while the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the black of the night bleeding into the golden glow. Bright stars shone above them. "Every time they sit in front of me and look at me so disapprovingly with their stern gazes, analyzing my symptoms superficially and claiming so confidently that they know what will help me. As soon as my hour is over, they shoo me out the door with empty words of encouragement and a plastic bag of medication to numb me..." Lute tilted her head back, looking longingly up at the stars. "You know, Emily, if I take these pills, my whole world will go numb. If I don't take the pills, then I feel the faux pain in my missing arm, and if I still can feel the pain in my arm, then my arm is still attached to my body, right?" Lute laughed bitterly, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto Emily's hand. "Then it never really happened, I am still an exorcist and he's still with me. If I don't take the pills, I'll still hear his voice and I'll still see him standing in front of me. I don't want to take these pills, please, because if I do, I'll really lose him..." Lute looked to the ground. "With these pills it's too true to be good..."

"Oh, Lute..." Gently, Emily squeezed her hand. Emily never saw Lute cry before and she couldn’t do much against her tears, so she intertwined their fingers while her other hand gently turned Lute's chin towards her, coaxing her to look at her. "I'm sorry, but you can't just suppress reality for ever..." Emily leaned her forehead against Lute's as fine fingertips ran tenderly over her cheekbones, wiping away the stray tears again and again.

"I can try..." Lute whispered, while she lost herself in her eyes.

"You can’t just give in to your inner demons so easily." Emily shook her head. She saw the pain in her eyes. She heard the pain in her voice. "I won't let you to, Lute, I promise..."

I have never written Emily and Lute, but I hope, you like it! It was fun, maybe I will continue this idea?

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 2

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: You have this amazing talent of knocking the wind right out of Steve's chest with words alone.

Warnings: pregnant!reader, mentions of being sick (among other scarier pregnancy symptoms), language

Word Count: 3614

Previous Chapter! - Next Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Rain slammed against the window panes of the Harrington house like bullets. The cold seeped through the walls and ate straight through Steve’s pajamas, and the cup of coffee in his hands was doing little to remedy it. There was zero hint of sun in the sky, it seemed like there would be none all day, and Steve was really regretting coming out from under his covers. 

Steve had only slept in his own house three times over the past two weeks; he’d made quite the home for himself on your couch, living out of a backpack of clothes he’d stuck in the corner of your living room. You had asked him not to leave you alone, and what kind of man would he be if he had said no to that? He probably wouldn’t even have been able to, anyway.

He didn’t know if he would be allowed to sleep in your bed with you, and he had been too afraid to ask. 

While his father never really bothered to care where his son was, and his mother trusted him enough to let him do his own thing most of the time, he was still expected to show his face at home every once in a while. He’d been stuck with the closing shift last night (even though it was outside of his availability, so thanks for that, Keith), and he knew you’d be fast asleep by the time he made it back to your apartment. You’d called the store after you got home at the much more reasonable hour of six thirty. ‘I think I can live with being alone for tonight’ you’d told him. ‘I’ve got a paper to write, anyway.’ 

Fuck, Steve really needed a better job. Preferably one that paid him more and wasn’t open until eleven p.m. on a Thursday night. 

You worked a big girl job at the Roane County Historical Society museum. You were just a secretary, but you had a salary, insurance, and all that other grown up stuff. Nine to five, four days a week, and they helped with your college tuition, too. Come May, you’d have a History degree and a teaching certification, and word on the street said Hawkins Middle was about to have a need for a  new History teacher. Unlike him, you had the perfect five year plan laid out right in front of you. 

Y’know, as long as Steve hadn’t ruined it for you. 

By the time he woke up on Friday, his father was long gone. It was nearing one in the afternoon, and the big empty house felt extra big and extra empty today. Steve glanced out the window as he poured a second cup of coffee and saw the rain collecting in the bottom of the long-since drained pool in his backyard. A handful of stray leaves sat mixed with the rainwater, some stuck in a brown mass on the bottom, some floating lazily atop the puddle. 

He was startled out of his trance by his mother’s voice and nearly dropped his full mug.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said as she walked into the kitchen, heels clicking along the tiles. “Or, good afternoon, rather.”

Meredith Harrington was the opposite of her husband in more ways than anyone could count. She actually enjoyed spending time with her child, for one, but there had never been an angry bone in her body. She wasn’t immune to frustration, or worry, but it was never unfounded. Yet still, for every wild flame of rage that shot from her husband's mouth, she counteracted with calmness. Or, more accurately, quiet, fearful resignation. Her husband never put his hands on her or their son, but Steve could always tell that she had spent her whole marriage walking on eggshells, waiting for the terrifying moment that he did, as if it was a simple inevitability. 

Steve loved his mom, but fuck, he wished she would just stand up for herself for once.

“God, Mom, you scared me,” Steve responded, leaning against the counter. 

“I do live here, too, y’know,” she poked back with a smile. “When did you get so jumpy?”

If she ever found out the real answer to that question, she would probably never let her son out of her sight ever again.

“Haven’t seen much of you these last couple weeks,” his mother observed. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he insisted. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. She put the pocketbook she was holding down on the marble countertop of the island and crossed the room to lean against it, opposite her son. “I can tell, there’s far too much going on in that big head of your’s.”

Steve snorted at the well meaning insult. 

“It’s nothing mom, I promise.”

“Come on now, you know I don’t buy that,” his mother asked with arms crossed. “Talk to me, kid.” 

“I-I don’t know.” Steve was absolutely, in no way, ready to talk about any of what was going through his head, especially to his mom. ‘You might be a grandma come September’ wasn’t really something he could just drop in the middle of casual conversation.

“Is it a girl, maybe?”

Steve’s quiet was proof enough that his mother was, at least partially, right. She gave her son a knowing smile.

“Tell me it’s not Nancy again, right?” she asked. Meredith was generally a pretty forgiving woman, but Nancy had really broken her son’s heart. So, while she would always show nothing but kindness to the eldest of the Wheeler children, she didn’t have to like her. 

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Steve assured. “That ship sailed a long, long time ago.” 

“Good,” she replied. “Will I ever get to meet this mystery girl?”

Steve just shrugged, deciding it best to omit the fact that the “mystery girl” had lived across the street for eighteen years and swam in their pool every summer for a decade.

“You should invite her over for dinner some time,” his mother said. She leaned forward and pulled a piece of errant lint off of Steve’s shoulder with perfectly manicured nails. “I’ll roast a chicken. It’ll be nice.”

“She doesn’t eat chicken.”

“She doesn’t eat chicken?” she parroted back. “What kind of person doesn’t eat chicken?”

“She’s a vegetarian, mom,” he explained. 

“Ah,” his mom accepted. “Then I’ll make that broccoli cheddar casserole you like. You know, the one I make during Lent every year? Think she’d like that?”

“Yeah, I think she would.” Steve was trying his best to hide his smile, though he wasn’t doing it all that well.

“Alrighty.” She patted her son’s shoulder as she walked past him and gathered her purse. “Well, I have to go run some errands. You’re more than welcome to join me if you’d like.”

“No, thanks.”

“Right. You’re much too cool to tag along with mom to the grocery store. How could I have forgotten?”

“No! No, it’s not that, I-”

“I’m joking, Steve,” she assured with a smile. “Make sure that cup ends up in the dishwasher, okay? Not just in the sink.” 

“Dishwasher. Got it.”

“I love you! Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!”

With that, the heavy front door shut and Steve was plunged into the silence of deserted suburbia. 

You were at work, he had the day off with no plans, and the idea of being at all productive sounded absolutely exhausting. He finished his coffee in two big gulps and decided the best way to spend the day would be to crawl right back into bed and wallow in his feelings.

Steve had, very much on purpose, kept most of his thoughts about your current situation to himself. Partially because every time you two did start talking about it, you ended up a slushy pile of tears in his arms. The other reason, though, the bigger reason, was that he was terrified that you would put all of your own wants and wishes to the side and do whatever he wanted you to. The concept of you having a baby you didn’t want just to appease him made him sick to his stomach.

His parents only got married because his mom ended up pregnant at nineteen, and having a baby out of wedlock in 1967 was a social sin of the highest order. So they planned a wedding in two weeks time (a small family affair, exclusively to save face and avoid the questions that arise with courthouse ceremonies), and moved into a big, fancy house so that everyone knew the Harringtons were a normal, run-of-the-mill, perfect American family. His father loved to point out all of the things he didn’t get to do all because Steve came along and got in the way, and his mother. . . 

She loved him. He knew that. He also knew that she had to pack up her life to play house with a man she was always a little bit afraid of, all because of him. His father always resented him for it, but his mom never did. At the very least, she never told him she did. 

The thought of doing to you what his father did to his mom absolutely fucking terrified him, but ‘terrified’ had been his baseline state of being pretty much constantly over the past two weeks.

Steve was no stranger to fear. He’d had extensive experience with the feeling; that sharp heaviness that settled itself behind his ribs and sucked every drop of oxygen out of his lungs. When it came at him hard and fast, that was when he could handle it best. This was not that. This fear was slow and achy, all-encompassing. It sealed itself onto his bones, like some sort of emotional slime. Like a fungus.

And, honestly, most of that fear was for you, not him. The worst thing that could happen to him was that he could end up being a shitty father, and while he would hate that more than pretty much anything in the entire world, it did sort of pale in comparison to your worst case scenario. You could die.

Yeah, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic, but you still could. It wasn’t all that far outside of the realm of possibility. You were already horribly sick, you had been for the past few weeks, and while you had been taking the constant nausea and incessant dizzy spells like a fuckin’ champ, it wasn’t like a positive attitude would be able to save you if you started hemorrhaging. 

Steve really hoped, for your sake, that you had yet to go down this train of thought, but he knew you most likely had. As terrified for you as he was, he understood that you were probably feeling all of it tenfold.

And yet, behind all of that, he was having a very difficult time squashing that tiny inkling of reckless hope that had been planted in the back of his head. He was still a 21 year old dick-head who had zero business taking care of a baby, and he definitely wasn’t allowed to be excited about it. For, like, a million different reasons.

Eventually, he fell back into a heavy-limbed sleep, but was woken up however many hours later by the shrill ring of the phone. A bleary eyed glance at the clock on his bedside table told him it was just passed six o’clock. His mother should be back by now, right? He let it ring.

 A moment passed, and it rang once more. He debated for a moment if he even had the right to answer it anymore, but he begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed and picked it up anyway.

“Harrington Residence,” he grumbled, hoping whoever was on the other side could tell how frustrated he was to be awake. 

“Steve?” Your voice came through the line. It was strained, and he heard you trying your best to disguise the sobs coming from your throat. “It’s me.”

“Hey, woah, what’s going on? What happened?” he questioned, any annoyance gone. 

“Are you able to come pick me up?” you stuttered out between sniffles. “I’m at work. I-I have a flat tire.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course I can,” he said.  

“Okay.”

“I’m on my way, alright? Five minutes, tops,” he told you. He had the earpiece of the phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder, and the cord was stretched as far as it could go to reach into his bedroom as he haphazardly swapped his flannel pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans.

“Thank you.” Another sob.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he insisted. “Hang tight, I’ll be right there.”

The rain had slowed back to a dismal drizzle that splashed into the puddles stretched across Steve’s driveway. The drive to the museum was usually short, but the evening rush (as if the barely-there Hawkins traffic could ever be called that) slowed him down just enough for it to be annoying. The museum had officially closed an hour ago, though stray patrons and evening administrative duties usually kept you back after hours. 

Steve saw you shivering underneath the awning that hung over the front doors, comparable to a lost kitten stuck in a thunderstorm. The shoulders of your sweater were soaked through, and as Steve pulled into the parking lot and stopped his car, he could see the angry black rivers of runny mascara that dribbled down your face. 

“What the hell are you doing waiting for me out here in the rain?” Steve asked as he jogged up to where you were standing. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. “Why aren’t you inside? It’s freezing.”

“That creepy research assistant is in there and I hate being in the same room as him when there’s nobody else around,” you choked out, syllables broken up by wracking sobs. 

“Alec?” Steve asked, and you nodded. He pulled you tightly against him before adding, “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

“Please don’t do that,” you squeaked. 

“Let’s change your tire, huh?” Steve said, though he made no move to let you go. “Do you have the spare?”

“That-” your words were cut off by a pitiful sniffle. “That is the spare.”

“Of course it is,” Steve sighed, though he most certainly should not have, because it just spurred on more crying from you. “Hey, it’s alright. I can take you home and we can get a new tire on it in the morning, okay?”

“I just had a really bad day,” you wept into his shoulder.

“I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“I spilled the hottest tea in the universe all over my legs,” you croaked. Steve winced at the image. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into the top of your head.

“And since it was so hot, I accidentally said ‘motherfucker’ in front of a tour group that consisted exclusively of second graders!” you added. Steve would have laughed at that if you weren’t so wildly upset. “And Creepy Alec was being creepy all day long-”

“My offer still stands.”

“And then I came out here and my fucking tire was fucking flat!” you exclaimed, punctuated by another bout of wailing, the kind that made your whole body shake and your voice stutter. Steve took it the best he could, petting the back of your head and holding you tight, wishing he could go into your brain and dig all of the bad bits out. 

“Let me get you home, and we can get you into some dry clothes and deal with your car in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimpered. 

Steve let you go, but when he went to pull you along to his car so the pair of you could leave, you stayed planted right where you were. You lifted your watery eyes to meet his, and he gazed at you from where he stood.

“Steve?” you quietly asked him. 

“Yeah?” Steve responded. A silence fell between the two of you, though the lazy rain and evening downtown traffic poked holes through it.

“I wanna keep the baby.”

You had this amazing talent of knocking the wind right out of his chest with only words alone.

“That-” came out of fucking nowhere, holy shit!, he didn’t add. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you muttered over a wobbly lip.

Steve was paralyzed. The soles of his shoes had been superglued to the pavement and his arms had been turned to stone. It was somehow both exactly what he did and did not want to hear all at the same time, because deep down in his gut he knew he wanted that too, but there was a laundry list of reasons why it was a bad idea, why it was irresponsible, why it was maybe everything he ever wanted, and- 

“Steve, if you don’t want to do this, that's okay, but I need you to tell me. Now.” Your voice, shaky and full of fear and yet so, so determined, pulled him up and away from his thoughts once again. 

“I do!” he exclaimed, maybe with a bit too much fervor. He regained his ability to move and closed the gap between the two of you in one wide step. “I do.”

You stood silent with your glassy eyes staring bullets into his. 

“Look, I’m gonna start talking, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop, so if it gets to be too much, just shut me up, okay?” Steve said. He brought his hands up to grace your shoulders.

“What?” you questioned, confusion laced throughout your miserable expression.

Steve had spent the last three and a half years doing everything he could to drown out the sounds of his feelings for you, and Robin was right. It was destroying his brain. 

“I’m really, really in love with you,” he said. “And I have been for a really, really long time. Since way before this, fuck, since before Starcourt, and I’m so fucking sorry for not having the guts to say it until now. I’m the universe’s biggest coward for that-”

“You are not a coward!”

“-And I know you deserve better, but for some reason that still eludes me, you’ve stuck with me through all the bullshit, anyway. You could’ve run away whenever you wanted to, you could’ve gone with your parents when they left, but you didn’t, and that has to mean something, right?”

“Steve,” you wept.

“I promise, there is nothing in this world that I want more than to do this with you, alright? Not a single fucking thing,” he assured you. “I meant what I said. Holding your hand the whole time.”

Steve took your trembling hand into his own, fingers fitting together like lock and key. 

“If you’ll have me,” he added.

Your lips wobbled, you let out another shattered sob, and you kissed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Like you would drop dead right on the spot if not for his lips on yours. Steve kissed back, because he knew he would drop dead if he didn’t, and now he had tears to match your own.

“I’m really, really in love with you, too,” you blubbered after the pair of you pulled apart. You had a hand on either side of his face, fingers ghosting over the junction of his jawline and neck, and Steve had his wrapped delicately around each wrist.

“You really wanna do this?” Steve asked you. “You really mean it? You’re not just saying it?”

“I really mean it,” you said definitively. You were still very much crying, though you were infinitely less miserable than you had been five minutes ago. The pair of you stayed swaying in each other's arms, protecting each other from the cold.

“Good, because I really mean it, too,” he responded. 

The thick, foggy haze of emotion was beginning to dwindle, and despite the warm bubble of affection the two of you had created, you were still standing out in the rain. And Steve was pretty sure he could see Creepy Alec spying on them through one of the second story windows.

“Let’s go home. I’ll make you dinner,” Steve murmured to you, and you nodded in agreement. 

Steve drove you both back to your apartment and made a feast of plain scrambled eggs and buttered toast, because it was all your stomach could really handle right now. Turns out, he very much was allowed to sleep in your bed with you, and after he’d finished doing the dishes in the sink, he joined you under the pile of blankets that adorned your mattress. Your cat curled itself up at the end of the bed as you drew yourself into his side. He didn’t remember you being this cuddly, but it was a change he was more than happy to welcome.

After a few minutes, when he’d thought you had fallen asleep, your voice pierced through the quiet of your bedroom.

“You’re gonna be someone's dad,” you muttered into his pajamas. Fuck. He was, wasn’t he?

“You’re gonna be someone’s mom,” he shot back.

“Weird,” you responded. “I think you’ll be really good at it.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. Definitely.”

And of course Steve was still fucking terrified. Terrified of the monsters, and of his dad, and of all the different ways this could go south, but he had you tucked up against his chest, and he was gonna be someone’s dad, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care about any of the scary stuff. In this moment, for the first time in as long as Steve could really remember, the underlying current of fear that ran along his thoughts was finally overpowered by just how much he fucking adored you.

Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @e0509 @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @plk-18 @hoesbloated

[oneshotnewbie]

B!D's stomach pain comes back?, but this time it ends up being an ulcer. Kara comes back from patrol to hear her crying in pain in her room, and goes to comfort/hold her while she's in pain until that morning when they go to the ER?

Authors note: This request is so old and probably came in when I published the "Stomach Inflammation" series. I'm so sorry it's only coming now. I totally missed it!

ᕚ---ᕘ

Night fell over National City as Supergirl returned from her patrol. The wind carried the scent of smoke and despair as she flew over the rooftops of the city. Her red cape fluttered in the wind as she listened to the sounds of National City with her ears pricked.

But in the midst of this nightly chaos that plagued the National City, she heard a sound that immediately stopped her in her tracks. A quiet sob, muffled and desperate, came from one of the windows below her. Supergirl hovered indecisively for a moment before deciding to investigate the source of that sound of distress.

With a quick push of her powerful legs, she landed on the roof of a building that included your apartment. Her super ears could now clearly hear the faint cries of pain, and her heart clenched at the sound. You needed her help.

Without hesitation, she floated down to the front door and walked silently up to your apartment. It was dimly lit by the moonlight, and she could hear the soft whimpers coming from your bedroom before she silently walked into your bedroom and spotted your figure on the bed, seemingly in pain.

“Y/n?” Kara whispered softly as she slowly approached. Her super eyes immediately took in the scene: you were curled up on the bed, hands clutched tightly around your stomach, tears streaming down your face. You raised your head and looked at your sister with tear-filled eyes. "Kara," you sob. "It hurts so much. I don't know what's wrong."

Her heart ached at the sight of you in such agony. She had seen you struggle with stomach problems often enough, but she had never seen you so desperate. “Oh, my sweet girl,” Kara murmured, sinking onto the bed next to you. She gently placed a hand on your shoulder and felt your body tremble under her touch. "It'll be okay, I promise you."

But deep down the blonde knew that she couldn't keep that promise. Because she knew that your stomach pain wasn't a simple case of stomach problems. They were a symptom of something much more serious.

Kara hugged you tightly as you clung to her as if you were holding on to the last shred of hope. But in that moment, Supergirl knew she was facing a new challenge. A challenge stronger than anything they had ever experienced before.

The night had long since reached its climax when you and Kara were still sitting in your room. The silence was only broken by the muffled cries of pain from you as you writhed on the bed, trying to endure the excruciating pain. Kara sat next to you, one hand gently on your back as she tried to provide comfort as best she could.

“It will pass soon, y/n.” She whispered reassuringly, even though she knew her words could provide little relief. "I'm here with you. You're not alone."

You squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your fists in pain. Every breath was a challenge, and you desperately fought the tears that stung your eyes. "Why is this happening to me?" you whimpered quietly, your voice barely more than a breath.

Kara swallowed hard as she pulled you closer and hugged you tightly. “Sometimes things happen that we can’t control,” she replied quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "But you're strong. You've gotten through this before, and you'll get through this time too."

You leaned heavily against your sister, your cheeks wet with tears. The pain continued to pulse through your body, but in that moment you felt a little less alone. Kara was with you and that gave you strength to keep fighting.

The minutes passed slowly, each second filled with the agony of you and the silent support of Kara. The first gentle rays of the sun broke through the curtains and bathed the bedroom in a soft and calming light. You were still lying on the bed, your eyelids fluttering as you slowly woke up. A dull ache still pulsed in your stomach, and you sighed softly.

Kara was still sitting on your bed, her back leaning against the headboard, her gaze resting lovingly on you. The tension of the past few hours still weighed heavily on her shoulders, but in that moment she also felt a deep gratitude that she was able to stand by you when you needed her most.

But before you even got to sit up, you felt a firm grip on your shoulder, gently pushing you back onto the bed. Kara was next to you, a worried look on her face. "Slowly, y/n," Kara spoke softly, stroking your forehead. "You do not have to hurry."

You nodded weakly and fell back into the pillow. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice gentle like a hug. You sighed and tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through your stomach, forcing you back into bed. “Not too good at the moment,” you mumbled, forcing a weak smile. "But thanks for being with me, Kar. You really helped me.“

She stood up and adjusted herself correctly so her head was close to yours before wrapping an arm around you. "That's what sisters do, y/n. We stand up for each other no matter what."

You smiled tiredly and nodded, grateful for the unwavering support from her. But despite the apparent calm, you both knew that you couldn't just carry on as before. You needed medical attention, and quickly.

Determined, Kara stood up and reached for her phone, her expression serious as she looked at you. "I'll call Lena and hope she'll help me make an appointment for you at the hospital. It's important that you get checked out."

You nodded in agreement while your sister arranged the phone call. The idea of going back to the hospital scared you, but you also knew it was the right step to figure out what was wrong with your body this time.

When you finally entered the hospital, you felt uncertain and afraid. However, Kara stood firmly at your side, her hand firmly in yours, giving you the strength you needed to take the next step. The doctors welcomed you together with nurses who immediately began to examine you. Hours passed, filled with lengthy tests and exams as you patiently persevered, strengthened by the knowledge that your sister was by your side.

And when finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctors came into the room with serious faces, your heart began to beat faster than you were hoping for your diagnosis. "Mrs. Danvers," the senior doctor began to speak. "After our examinations, we found that you are suffering from a stomach ulcer."

Your heart sank at those words and a wave of fear washed over you. A stomach ulcer - that meant more treatments, more pain and an uncertain future. But before fear could overwhelm you, you felt a firm grip on your hand, gently bringing you back to reality. "We'll get through this together, sweetie," your sister spoke softly, her eyes full of compassion and love. "You are not alone. I am here with you."

You smiled weakly, your eyes filling with tears of gratitude. In that moment, you knew that as long as you stuck together, you could do this. Together you left the hospital and plunged into a new phase of your life, ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

[instarsandcrime]

Lu/ci/fer thought of the day:

He never gets sick as a seraphim and doesn't to this day because he still has some angelic blood left in him. However, to balance this out for his punishment, once a year for a week straight Lu/ci/fer gets hit with just. The worst and most symptoms of the flu imaginable. Nonstop chills, fever, coughing, sneezing, nausea, everything under the sun packed in a year's worth of time.

He had Li/li/th to help every time it happened, but after she disappeared he suffered every year since then on his own. But now that he lives in the hotel as a visitor-- not a resident, thank you very much-- he's surprised when Char/lie immediately notices something is wrong and starts prepping without even knowing what he's stuck with. Tea, tissues, a humidifier, a pillow fort for comfort's sake, anything and everything she can think of. And as he's shivering and sweating under a pile of blankets, literally and figuratively burning through his fourth tissue box in the past six hours, suddenly he realizes oh.

He's not alone anymore.

[aetherdoesthings]

HANAHAKI!READER X ROBIN PART TWO

forethoughts: i think i'm getting better!!! that's a lie i've been coughing all afternoon. oh welp. also lowkey i feel like i'm kinda been teaching y'all about absolutism in some sense through the fic. idk.

notes: fem!reader, hanahaki au (it's in the title), modern au, high school, swearing?

The next day at school, you avoided Robin like the plague. You wore a mask, making people think you were just sick, not batshit crazy for coughing up flower petals. During lunch, you hid in the library, a place you rarely saw Robin in since she was always on the podium eating lunch with other juniors. You were fine throughout the entire day; you didn’t see Robin, you didn’t hear Robin, or ever mention Robin once. 

You had decided to keep a small journal with you ever since you had ‘fallen in love’ with Nico Robin, the goddess herself. You wrote down every moment you coughed, keeping track if your symptoms were getting worse or not. You kept the notebook to yourself, keeping it in your bag. It was also one of those notebooks with those stupid padlocks they sold to kids when you were younger, just so that your secret was well hidden.

Robin had started talking to you on Instagram. Whenever your phone suddenly turned bright, you held your breath, checking the notifications to see if it was Robin. When it was, you’d be happy and jump up and down for a solid minute before finally responding. Your god awful disease seemed to go away whenever you talked to Robin via text too; maybe there was a way to keep your disease under wraps after all.

But there was one key thing that foiled your plan to stay immune to Robin forever. The attendance sheet. You can’t just skip History, the only class you had with Robin and had a goddamn group project with. So you walked into the classroom, taking your seat next to God herself, who was busy talking to her other comrades. You tried not to look at her, staring at the clock, the floor, that mold on the wall that seemed to keep growing. There was 60 minutes to this class. 60 minutes of purgatory. Your heart thudded, trying to leap out of your chest and look at Robin, wanting to express your love to her in the cheesiest way. Your mind rebelled, battling all the thoughts about the Goddess away. No. You had spent the entire day trying to figure out what triggered your coughing and made your throat want to kill itself. Right now, you were sitting next to Robin, and your heart was trying to think of her and daydream about you and Robin making out and having--

“Oh! Y/N! I didn’t see you there.” You nearly jumped out of your seat at her voice, as you whipped your head towards her, that sensation in your stomach burning out. Holy shit her smile was so much more beautiful than you had imagined. The corners of Robin’s lips curled upwards, forming a gentle arc. It was warm and inviting, like a blade of light in the darkness dungeons. Her face seemed to have lit up the moment she saw you, as her cheeks flushed pink, but so faint you needed the sun to see it clearly. You wanted to bask in the radiance that shone from her smile, wanting to feel it and experience it in its entirety.

That’s why you let out a harrowing cough, ducking your head and moving away from Robin. The petal moved up your esophagus, landing in your mask. You left the petal there, as you turned your head towards Robin again. Your stomach dropped when you realized her smile had disappeared. A frown replaced the smile, her eyebrows were furrowed and disappointment in her eyes.

“Oh. You’re still sick.” Robin sighed, a small smile on her face. “Well, I do hope you get better before our presentation. Is it a cold?”

“Y-Yeah, cold.” You nodded your head.

“I see. Do feel better soon, I don’t want our grade to plummet if you can’t present well.”

That sentence drove a knife into your heart, as you looked at your desk. “I hope I do too.”

While Robin wasn’t looking, you reached your hand into your mask, grabbing the petal and shoving it into your pocket. You drummed your feet against the ground, waiting for the lesson to start.

45 more minutes. The teacher had just given instructions on what to do and announcements. Everyone started to pull out their laptops the moment the teacher stopped talking, including Robin. You placed your laptop on the table, opening it and signing in, opening the document you and Robin were working on, as well as the slides.

“Okay, progress seems good. We have three more days until the presentation and we’re already halfway done. We just have to find a modern day example for Elizabeth I for extra credit, and we’re good.” Robin said.

“Yep.” You replied, wanting to limit your speech as much as possible. You had a bunch of tabs opened from last night, but your lovesick mind was too busy drooling over Robin to try and close some of them.

“Do you have any ideas about what modern day example we should do?” Robin asked, looking over at your screen.

“Um, the obvious answer would be Elizabeth II, but she was more of a constitutional monarch than absolute, so maybe we can do Elizabeth II, and just compare personalities and accomplishments.” You responded absentmindedly. When Robin didn’t respond, you looked up from your screen, looking at Robin. Your heart immediately dropped, as your finger scrambled on the trackpad, closing all your tabs you had open since last night.

“You saw nothing.” You simply said after a cloud of silence fell upon the two of you.

“Definitely. Let’s get back to work.” Robin replied, looking back at her screen.

Your cheeks were red, your fingers shaking as you tried to type one word on the slides. If the whole room was absolutely silent, everyone would’ve heard your heart thumping, roaring loudly. You spent your night trying to find out how to cure your hanahaki disease, or at least not trigger your symptoms. Tired and absolutely drained, you closed your computer and just went to sleep, not closing your tabs at all.

Does Robin know I have that stupid love disease? Does Robin know I have a massive crush on her? Does Robin think I’m weird? Does Robin know? Shit. Shit. Fuck. I think she knows. Oh fuck, I’m fucked. Robin knows. She knows I have that stupid love disease. Your mind raced with thoughts, all negative and solidifying your doom. Robin definitely saw the tabs of you researching hanahaki, and now she knew you were in love with someone to the point you coughed up flower petals because of a person.

She doesn’t know it’s her. She doesn’t know I like her. She doesn’t know I love her. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’m not going to die if she knows I have a massive crush on her. You took a deep breath, holding onto those words like it was your life line. Robin didn’t know it was you, she just knew you were in love with someone.

But she’s smart. She’s going to know. 

No she’s not.

Yes she is.

The two voices wrestled in your head, growing louder and louder, shutting down all your other actions. You were certain Robin was talking, maybe to you or to someone else. Your fingers stayed put on the keys, not a single letter being typed out. All you could focus on was the voices arguing about your fate. It felt like drills digging into your skull, piercing through the bone and turning your brain into mush.

You abruptly stood up from your seat, closing the lid as you walked up to the teacher, telling him you needed to use the bathroom. You stormed out of the classroom, making a beeline to the stalls. You chose the farthest one from the door, turning the lock so fast it should’ve flown off. With your back against the wall, you sunk down to the ground, bringing your knees to your chest as you dropped your head, letting your forehead rest on your knees. 

You hated this feeling. You hated feeling helpless and hated having your well being dependent on a person.

You never wanted to fall in love with Nico Robin. You never wanted to have this feeling in your heart, this constant need to see her and hear her voice.

Now this? 

Why did you have to fall in love with Nico Robin? 

There were two ways to get rid of the stupid love disease. You had to tell Robin you loved her, and if she loves you back, you’d stop coughing up flowers. If she rejects you, you’re done for. 

You let out a sniffle, knowing which option would become reality. 

Nico Robin was going to kill you, whether you told her or not. She would’ve never liked you back, not in a million years.

Your fate was sealed the minute you saw her on your first day of junior year.

You were going to-

“Y/N? Are you in there?” You lifted your head so abruptly, the back of your head hit the concrete wall, causing you to wince. Robin? From the gaps on the bottom, you could see Robin’s shoe slowly approach your stall, the tip of her shoes pointed towards you.

[dumbslxtclub]

you’re on your own, kid | e.m - part two

eddie munson x pregnant!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: robin gets you out of the house to go maternity shopping, and eddie learns about your pregnancy

content warnings: fem!reader adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, angst, some canon divergence, mentions of death , reader is 19, slow burn

word count: 2.2K+

↳  one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight  / nine / ten / eleven

Part Two: Chest-Burster

Despite your reluctance to participate, the world continues to turn as the gang settles back into a life somewhat resembling normalcy. Time doesn’t care for your grief, it seems. Hopper was able to pull a few strings in the police department to clear Eddie’s name, pinning the deaths on Jason. Robin came by every day to check on you, delivering groceries by bike and bringing you the latest video releases to watch. Her hypochondria had been dialed up by a million after your first doctor’s appointment, sourcing out every prenatal vitamin under the sun and forcing them down your throat daily. Days turned into weeks, which would be unremarkable if it weren’t for your growing situation. Not only the one swelling in your belly, but the mounting pile of bills on your counter were now unavoidable. 

You knew you couldn’t exist in your bubble of misery much longer, not when the threat of eviction was looming. But, of course, there was also the matter of your bump, which you were hoping to hide until you were ready to tell everyone. At 5 months along, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide as your shirts now fit a little too snuggly, and Robin was eager to get you out of the house and into some new clothes that weren’t Steve’s sweatshirts. And so, you found yourself at a small boutique just outside of town, browsing the maternity section for something that wasn’t completely hideous while doing your best to avoid any recognition. Robin strolls over holding a long multi-coloured polka-dot dress.

“How about this? Looks like it’s got lots of room to grow.” She studies the dress before handing it over to you proudly.

“Looks like something out of the circus. I think we should stick to something a bit more subtle.” You hang it back on a return rack before continuing to flick through an assortment of neutral pants with large stretchy waistbands.

“Oohh, how about these?!” You hear Robin practically squeal behind you. You spin around to see her holding a pair of light-wash denim overalls. A small smile creeps across your face as you touch the soft material.

“Yeah, I like these.” She twirls you around until you’re face to face with the store’s full length mirror. Robin holds the overalls out in front of your body, grabbing a knit sweater off a nearby rack to complete the look.

“Now that’s one hot mama.” You giggle at her joke, admiring your new look. Gratitude washes over you as you lay your head against her shoulder, however, the moment is short-lived. A gasp escapes Robin’s lips as she shoves the clothes into your arms and disappears out of sight momentarily, only to reappear holding the smallest pair of overalls you’ve ever seen. Suddenly, the worry you had been experiencing for months on end momentarily dissipates. How can something that can fit into something so small be scary?

“Oh my god, I’m so getting you these.” She grabs a basket and makes a beeline for the baby section. You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, it’s contagious. As you go to follow her, you catch some movement behind your reflection in the mirror. You spot two girls whose names you can’t remember from your class in high school, who are glaring at you and whispering to each other. A snicker spreads across the red-head’s face, which causes your cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

“Shit.” You immediately put your head down and duck behind the racks to seek out Robin, heart racing. Hawkins is a small town, so you know gossip is going to spread fast, and god knows you’re not ready for the world to know yet. You find Robin sorting through a pile of assorted coloured onesies.

“What about some yellow and green ones? Like gender neutral colors until we know-” She pulls out a few size options, not paying attention to your now frazzled state.

“Code red.” You peek around to see the girls exiting the shop, still glancing your way.

“Oh, red! I saw some red ones under here somewhere-”

“No, CODE red.” Realization washes over her face as she follows your eye-line to watch the girls still giggling outside the front windows of the store.

“Fuck! I thought we’d gone far enough out to avoid any nosey townsfolk.” She throws the tiny onesie back onto the table, running her hands through her hair as she often does when she’s stressed. “Oh shit, was that Kristie? Because it totally looked like Kristie, and you know Kristie’s gonna tell Tina and then Tina’s gonna tell-”

“Yeah, I get the picture, Robin.” You sigh as you come to terms with your fate, it’s only a matter of days before practically the whole town knows. In a way, it’s not the worst thing that could have happened. You were prepared to put it off for as long as humanly possible, and you were physically running out of time. So, you decide to double down.

“Hey, want a ride to work tomorrow? Think it’s about time I get back into the vest. I mean, if it still fits.” You ask, and a grin quickly takes over Robin’s face, clearly excited to have you back on the store floor with her. She throws her arms around you and gives you a big squeeze.

“You sure you’re ready? I mean, there’s no pressure-”

“I’m sure, Robin.”

The first few shifts back were hard, everything in the small store reminded you of Steve. Your mind flooded with memories as you restock the shelves, remembering how Steve would purposely put horror films in the comedy section just to mess with you, or the way he could never be trusted with the cardboard cut-outs (he tripped over at least three during your shared shifts). But Robin’s presence made it easier. She delegated you to all behind the counter duties to keep you from running around the store all day. But as midday hit and Robin left for her lunch break, it was just you to hold down the fort. Fortunately, it was a rather quiet Thursday morning, meaning there was nothing much for you to do except put returns away. You were busying yourself in the action section as you hear the bell chime behind you. 

“Robin, got some returns for you. And yeah, I know they’re late but Henderson insisted on watching Re-Animator all goddamn week so-”

You glance over your shoulder to see Eddie laying his returns on the counter, peering over looking for Robin. Your stomach drops, time to face the music. You know once Eddie knows, it’ll only be a few hours before everyone in the gang is clued in. But it’s okay, it’s cool. You’ve totally got this.

“Hey.” Your voice comes out as barely a squeak, not the confidence you were hoping for. Eddie spins around and your eyes meet. His expression softens as he studies you, you’ve been practically MIA for two months, so his surprise at seeing you out of your trailer is understandable.

“Hey!” A grin breaks out across his face. “You’re uh- you’re here.”

“Sure am.” His choice of words resonate with you, your biggest achievement over the past few weeks has just been staying here, taking each day one moment at a time. You place the copy of Escape From New York back in its place and turn to face him directly. His gaze flicks down momentarily to your overalls, where the slight curve of your belly is now filling out the denim fabric. His smile drops to an expression that you can only interpret as confusion, but without any traces of judgment or malice. You instinctively place a hand protectively on your stomach, biting the inside of your cheeks as you feel him studying you.

“And you are- I mean, you look- um, sorry? Are you-” Eddie trips over his words and can’t seem to decide if he should continue to look at you or not. You need to put him out of his misery, god knows he’s too much of a gentleman to assume someone is pregnant, lest he hurt their feelings. But the cogs are turning in his head, trying to choose his next words so carefully that it’s quite heartwarming.

“Pregnant? Yes, Munson. Don’t worry, your eyes don’t deceive you.” You stroll over to the counter to gather up the fresh returns. He continues to stand there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. 

“Holy shit- you’re pregnant? Like, for real?” You nod your head, shuffling through his film choices. You pull out his copy of Alien and flash it his way.

“I mean, could be a chest-burster. Guess I’ll just have to wait until it comes out.” 

You smile proudly at your own joke, but Eddie seems to be lost in his own world. He leans against the counter, and you join him hopping atop the surface to rest your feet. His dark brown eyes were now laced with concern, meeting with yours as the question slipped from his lips.

“Is it Steve’s?” It was the first time you’d properly heard his name in months, even Robin would cautiously avoid speaking about him unless you mentioned him (which you hadn’t). His name hits you like a tonne of bricks, but you kept your composure as you nodded your head. Eddie lets out a soft exhale, rubbing the back of his neck absent-mindedly.

“Wow.” He mutters under his breath.

“Yeah, wow.”

An oddly comfortable silence fills the air. As much as you love Robin’s company, seeing only her for the past two months has left you yearning for some outside contact. You’d pulled away completely from the gang after Steve’s death, so it felt nice to be around someone you called a friend again. And though you were yet to take him up on his offer, his kind words the night Steve vanished hadn’t gone unnoticed. He clears his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“So uh- good to see you back working again. I mean, Buckley loves giving me a hard time over my late returns…” He gestures to the scattered VHS tapes on the counter, and you let out a chuckle. 

“It’s alright, your secrets safe with me.” You give him a genuine smile as you begin organizing the tapes. 

“And you’re okay to be working on your feet like this? Y’know, with the whole-” He motions to your belly flippantly, the silver adorning his fingers catching your eye.

“It’s cool, Eddie. Robin’s practically chained me to this counter and insists on playing foreign films every day. Something about babies learning a second language in the womb.”

Eddie quirks his brow at your remark, a smile now growing on his face.

“‘Course she is.” The mess of curls fall around his face as he shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Well, you let me know if Keith is giving you any grief. Like, lunch breaks, or you need time off- all that shit. I can be quite…persuasive, y’know?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Eddie.”

He drums his hands against his thighs as he begins walking backwards towards the door, a smile now permanently plastered to his face. 

“I’ll see you round, then.”

“See you, Eddie.”

He swings open the front door, the bell above chiming away. But he stops in his tracks, giving the door frame a quick pat as he turns his focus back to you.

“Oh, uh- no pressure but Wayne was thinking of making spaghetti tonight, and Dustin’s coming over to help me on a new campaign. Never any room in our fridge for all the leftovers so- like, you’d be welcome to join if you didn’t feel like cooking after work or whatever-” Eddie rambles on, uncharacteristically nervous as fidgets with his rings. You smile warmly at his offer.

“I’m closing tonight, plus Robin dropped me some TV dinners the other day. But, can I take a raincheck on that?” 

A grin takes over Eddie’s face, cheeks dimpled as his posture relaxes.

“‘Course, you’re welcome anytime.”

By the time you’re pulling back into the trailer park, the sky has already begun to dim with a soft purple hue on the horizon. Your beat up Pinto rolls along the rough terrain, pulling into your makeshift driveway. Turning the engine off, you let out a sigh. The days are feeling longer, everything becoming more of an effort than usual. And you’re doing it all on your own. Shutting the car door behind you, you trudge along up your front steps to see a small tupperware container sitting on the welcome mat. You bend down and pick it up, the sensor light above you illuminating a sticky-note on top. Peeling it off, you read the scratchy writing on top:

Save your microwave meal for another night. I’ve heard babies need nutrients and protein and shit like that, so eat up. Eddie.

You chuckle at his brash choice of words, and glance over your shoulder to look at the Munson trailer. A bike is leaning against the front deck, which you’re positive is Dustin’s. A soft light beams through the living room window, the curtain moving slightly from the breeze of the evening. Gratitude fills your heart as you open your front door, entering your quiet trailer. 

Maybe you’re not as alone in all of this as you thought.

[oftenlyshitposting]

vampire!sabine x werewolf!shin hcs

- sabine was born a human to the powerful and legendary vampire clan of wren, a branch clan of house vizsla. her mother, ursa wren, the current countess and matriarchal figure of the clan, married her human father alrich in secret.

- sabine was born prior to alrich getting turned to a vampire in an effort to save him from his lethal genetic blood disease, resulting her to carry his disease as a human-born. alrich didn't survive his changing, leaving ursa with two year old human baby sabine.

- sabine has a vampire-born younger half-brother named tristan. despite being ursa's firstborn, the clan disregarded sabine because she's human, always casting her aside like she is nothing. it gets worse as she grows older and alrich's disease began to manifest it's symptoms when she was just nine, and tristan was seven.

- sabine had never wanted to be turned, but ursa loved her daughter too much to lose her the same way she lost alrich. she was turned using her mother's blood and bite against her will. ursa's blood provided sabine half of the vampiric powers tristan and other vampire-borns possessed. sabine was thirteen when ursa turned her, and sabine had resented her mother and everyone else since.

- sabine being turned doesn't tamper any of the discrimination within the clan, the evident unhealed bite mark serves as a reminder that sabine is never truly a part of the clan, an outcast, and that she was not acknowledged as an heiress to ursa's throne. but then again, sabine never wanted any of it.

- sabine, unlike vampire-borns, doesn't have permanent elongated upper fangs or blood-red irises with black scleras. she can also still go out under the sun, but not for too long because she still retains the heightened skin and eyes hypersensitivity. her bright brown eyes turns vampiric only when she feeds, or when she taps into her supernatural powers.

- sabine doesn't live in the wren bastion anymore, sneaking away from the suffocating stonewalled ancient seat of clan wren. no one wanted her to be there anyway, and she no longer wants anything to do with being a vampire or associated with them. her mother already had a much worthier heir, anyway. she fled to the furthest of countryside, occupating an abandoned cottage on a white sediment cliff that overlooks the oceans.

- sabine was visited by tristan after some decades. watching her younger brother, now an adult full-blooded vampire, made her feel bittersweet. tristan told her that he misses her; that he wants her to come home to the bastion and claim her birthright. sabine couldn't, she doesn't want to. so, she hugs tristan tightly and lets her younger brother stay for a couple of days, before she lets him go again with no knowledge of when she could even see him again.

- sabine spent the next decades after tristan's visit hiding in low profile, constantly afraid that a member of clan wren or house vizsla would come to find her. or, even worse; hunters coming to slaughter and sell her fangs for golds. she hated the world; her clan, the hunters, the humans who are vile to vampires. but, the one person she truly hates, is herself.

- sabine doesn't feed on human blood anymore since she's in hiding. she conditioned her vampiric half to remain dormant which she buried with her human half to survive. despite so, the monster within still needs to be fed, and to compensate, sabine hunts for wild game instead. she drinks the blood, and eats the meat; that way, both halves of her remains satisfied.

- sabine finds stray juvenile vampires lurking around the town not far from her cottage, hungry and dangerous. sometimes, when they're much younger and naive, sabine uses her wren blood to intimidate them away from town. but, most of the time, sabine never bats an eye at the falling bodies, and will always stay clear for the next few weeks because she knows a vampire hunting party is assembled.

- sabine hadn't known that full blood moons enhance every single supernaturals, and that included her. she never experienced full blood moons as a vampire, and couldn't keep the monster buried when the moon began to rise in blood red hue. she hasn't fed on human blood for years, and she was famished. by the time the moon had risen to it's peak, sabine had feasted on a group of poachers in the dense forest some distance away from her cottage. when she regained control of the monster, she was mortified by what she'd done and locked herself for weeks.

- shin was initially a human orphan girl, barely scraping by daily in a remote, unnamed town in the middle of the great forest. the townsfolk doesn't know who her parents are, nor do they even know of her name. the folks sees her as some kind of looming curse, and barely anyone ever looked at her.

- shin had always been kicked and pushed and forced to work for scraps, rarely ever feeling the comfort or warmth of a home. she was always told to go to the forest to forage for fibers and woods by her last employer (if you could even call him that, from the way he treated ten year old shin), even when it's already dark outside and no one dares to leave town.

- shin was out foraging one night, like any other cold and wet nights. but, unlike any other nights, her fear was overwhelming. she knows the forest is littered with supernaturals and unknown beasts, with hunters and trappers laying out their snares for their bounties. just as she was heading back to town, a wolf trap close on one of her legs as she fell into a hole, feeling pain and cold like she's never felt before.

- shin awoke gasping, like she'd been drowning. for a brief moment she thought she was dead, because all she saw was the darkness above her. but, as she slowly regained her senses, she began feeling warmth beside her, then she sees the brilliant crackle of the fire, along with the figure of a towering man.

- shin had been wary of the man, but he–baylan skoll, as he had introduced himself–was not intending to hurt her. in fact, he was the one who saved her from bleeding out and frozen to death. baylan told her that she wouldn't survive the massive injury, not even with the vial of elixir he gave to save her earlier. shin asked why, and baylan told her she "has been seeking for death" herself.

- shin was dumbfounded, but couldn't even disagree with her saviour. death would be much more welcoming than being alive in barely liveable conditions. baylan stepped in and tells her that he can offer her a way out and to survive. he told her she could have a power such as she never imagined before; a power to not only help her survive but also thrive into something more. all shin had to do, is consent to baylan and be strong.

- shin had a feeling that she already knows what baylan is, and consents to be transformed. the fire had died sometime ago, and in the dark of the forest, baylan's eyes are glowing crimson-red. shin has heard tales of those eyes; werewolf alphas, the strongest of the werewolves. the bite was painful, but the physical transformation that follows after was undeniably excruciating.

- shin survived the transformation and was immediately taken under baylan's care, as he was the one who turned her. baylan had given her a new name to indicate her affiliation with him; hati. shin had become baylan's wolfling apprentice, following him for decades as she grew further into her powers, almost matching baylan's own. the realm hears and retells of their tales; skoll and hati, the elusive rogue wolves of the dark.

- shin lost baylan to the hands of wolf trappers and hunters who had staked out their whereabouts. they shot baylan with a bullet made of pure silver laced with wolfsbane, and her master had limped all the way from town to their hideout. shin held baylan close shen she found him, frantic as she clings to him as she felt him slipping away. the hunters are coming to finish him, he told her.

- shin cried as she begs him to hang on, and just a few moments before he breathed his last breath, baylan instructed shin to kill him with her claws and drink some of his blood, so that his powers are transferred into her. he also made her promise to burn his body so the hunters would not have his body as their trophy. despite her reluctance, shin did as told, rewarding baylan with a wolf's death instead of that from the hands of hunters.

- shin feels the power of an alpha such as baylan coursing in her veins and body just as the party of hunters arrived at their hideout. now a full alpha, shin massacred the party of ten hunters in a manner that left the scene with bone-chilling bloodbath. her true wolf form stood at seven foot tall, just a head shorter than baylan's, with a thick coat of bone-white fur, claws elongated and canines sharper than knives. shin's eyes are vermillion, both in her werewolf and true form, bloodier than baylan's.

- shin spends the next decades seething in hatred and lust for vengeance. heartells of a new rogue alpha roaming around the realm travels faster when shin always leave a trail of whatever hunter thinks they can claim bounty on her head. shin knows that killing other werewolves are taboo, because when another werewolf kills its kind, they took away the power from their victims as well. shin couldn't care less, though. if a werewolf challenges her, she never hesitated to kill and steal their powers, amplifying her own power to a magnitude beyond baylan's.

special tag for @cethlyarlo !! thank you for motivating me to finish this long overdued wolfwren supernatural au HDSKDJSK hope you enjoy it!! :D

[strawberry-cowmilk]

once again sorry for the delay, everyone. I'll try to get the tempo up. also listen to what the requester said, your water is important

they find out mc is pregnant

-> satan, beel and solomon x mc

mc is female, not proof read

content warnings: pregnancy, mild angst (satan's part), mentions of throwing up

-----

Satan

satan didn't think he'd ever want a child at first

he's read almost every book under the sun, so when you started showing signs or pregnancy, he got pretty scared for a minute

satan didn't mention it, he just waited it out, maybe you were just sick and it would go away

when you showed him the positive test, reality hit him and for a week he was stressed because he didn't want this plus he thinks he'd he a horrible dad

eventually he talked to you about this, you noticed his distress so you confronted him

but after that week, satan felt less afraid, but really all it took was seeing his baby's ultrasound pictures to become excited for them

one time he was carrying asmo's mountain of bags in majolish and saw cat-themed baby clothes (he bought every item in every color)

the baby is still the size of a literal bean but that doesn't stop satan from hoarding every bedtime story book at the stores

Beelzebub

alarm bells started ringing for beel when you suddenly became tired after everything

his ddd search history was like 'human is very tired is she dying' 'signs human is sick' 'human threw up because of soap is she okay' 'human said she wants to put mayonnaise in orange juice to drink'

beel was a little scared when you actually drank orange juice with mayonnaise

eventually he couldn't take it anymore, you weren't getting any better and he had no idea why so he begged you to see a doctor

you should have seen the look on his face when the doctor told you you're pregnant

this man's whole face lit up and hugged you tightly while you were still in the middle of the ultrasound, before feeling bad he squeezed you

beel is terrified something might happen to you or the baby, so he becomes very protective, he will help you stand up from chairs every time (the fear becomes less intense over time though)

beel also can't wait until you start showing, he wants to feel his child kick against his hand and cuddle your stomach

Solomon

you were supposed to meet solomon at purgatory hall, but you were sick the whole day

when you called him to cancel, solomon was worried

for three whole days, this man would call you every hour or so to check on you

well, you were still sick and started getting even more seemingly random symptoms

solomon started to suspect what was going on, so he came to the house of lamentation with literal pregnancy tests

and when they turned out positive, solomon was happier than he thought he would be

solomon goes to lucifer to convince him to let you live with him at purgatory hall (lucifer almost had a heart attack but agreed)

he proudly walked back into his place, carrying your boxes and announced 'simeon, luke, mc lives here now because she's pregnant' (poor luke almost choked on his strawberry juice)

solomon wants to make sure you're as comfortable as possible, he steals every couch pillow for you

[actuallyadhd]

i won’t lie i feel silly for reaching out to a tumblr blog but here goes— My father openly admits he has autism and adhd, my mom is (as far as i know) neurotypical, with trauma. And I didn’t know any of this until i reached 17-18 (currently in my 20’s now) now, all my life i was always told “i need to focus” and that i ‘could focus’ if i put in the ‘effort’— but that i just didn’t ‘want to’. and that hurt growing up, because i believed it, why couldn’t i pay attention to the things i needed to, but when it came time for a favorite subject or something that was genuinely intriguing, i would dive in head first and become the knowledgeable in that subject. (which i later learned could simply be hyper fixation) and then from zoning out to not being able to physically shut my mouth(verbally stimming, even when I’m required to be quiet like during tests) — leg bouncing, finger tapping, daydreaming, feeling like i was “different”.

my mom would always push me to be my best which was harmful to me because i never got a chance for rest. she believed “the busier i was, the less trouble i’d get into” so i was in sports and dance and theater, and everything under the sun that could deter from free time. and i guess that was fine until the break downs and shut downs kicked in. then i was lazy and unmotivated and ungrateful even. and i guess after years of that we learn how to mask, which i think i do really well. because when i brought up to my family n friends that i might have ADHD, they just said “i don’t see it” or “mmm i don’t think so—“ 🧍🏽‍♀️

fast forward. and now we’re at a harsh wall of substance abuse, i use THC products because it helps me just, BE. and i did my research as to why and of course. People with low dopamine levels who smoke THC get that reward chemical that we so crave, and then when we keep getting our dopamine that way, it creates a dependency. go figure. i told this to my boyfriend (who is very loving and supportive, but i also don’t think he believes me when i say i might have ADHD) and he smokes too, n he might have ADHD too (he’s not too sure but he had instances as a kid where adults told him n his parents he might) but the difference is his willpower. and it makes me feel like maybe i’m doing something wrong? not to mention that every time i say i want to get medicated everyone will give me a billion reasons not too— (even tho i might just when i get the finances for it)

he swore he was just like me, but the difference is that he just redirected his energy and mind power to just…not. his words not mine. and then i thought maybe he just did CBT therapy on himself, and he thinks he did too. And I’ve tried all the things that people suggest, calendars, timers, reminder apps, adhd apps, writing on sticky notes, writing it on my hands even!

so i guess my questions are — am i doing everything i possibly can? am i trying hard enough to manage this? did i make a mistake somewhere along the way? and how do i keep going about it even when it feels like no one is taking me seriously when i say i’m struggling with this?

-a very tired n drained brain

Sent February 29, 2024

I'm sorry it took me so long to answer this. I don't know if I can help you a lot, but I will do my best to help you where I can.

I see a lot of things in your message that you might want to address with a counsellor. In particular, it seems like you might have some childhood trauma from being expected to suppress your ADHD symptoms. This can make ADHD symptoms harder to manage, and some trauma-related responses can mimic ADHD, which makes it hard to know what's really going on.

As for your boyfriend, it sounds like he may have found some systems that help him with his symptoms. It's also highly likely that your symptoms are different from his, and that you need different systems from those he uses. That doesn't mean you don't have ADHD, and it doesn't mean he doesn't have ADHD either; it just means that you are different people.

The THC use is something you both might want to reconsider. It can be difficult to find good information on the effects of cannabis on the brain, but what information we have indicates that ADHDers who use it are more likely to become addicted. This makes sense, since you're self-medicating. The problem is the addiction plus the possibility of a variety of other issues that can develop with extended use, such as memory problems and difficulty thinking clearly. Obviously the choice is yours, especially if it is legal in your area, and apparently medical marijuana is now being prescribed as treatment for things like depression and anxiety, which are often comorbid with ADHD, so the medical consensus is definitely in flux.

You list a bunch of different things you've tried, but I can't really offer any thoughts on that because what will help you depends a lot on what you're struggling with and why. I don't think your problem is that you're not trying hard enough or anything like that; I think that you've been stuck trying things that work for other people but that don't address your specific difficulties in a way that works for your brain.

It is clear to me that you are struggling, because if you weren't you wouldn't have written such a detailed Ask. You deserve help and support for the things you're struggling with.

If you write in again with more specifics about what you're currently struggling with, I can try to help you figure out what to do about it. If I suggest something you've tried before that didn't work, let me know and I'll see if I can come up with something else, or some tweaks that might work better for you. In addition, other people here may have suggestions for you to try.

Followers, do you have any thoughts on this story? What do you think about using THC for ADHD? How about the dismissiveness of others when we bring up our symptoms to try and get help?

-J