#(and the anxiety i had while i was in the bus

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Abuse ~ Part 1

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,160ish

Summary: You are a human working at Xavier's School. You are in an abusive relationship with a guy named Josh. Logan wants to do something about it.

Warnings: abuse (mental, physical, emotional), rape, injuries, triggers

Notes: Seriously, do not read if this will trigger you. You are in charge of what you consume. This will be split into 2 parts.

You weren’t a mutant, but you did work at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Charles recruited you to teach the primary-age students. It was unusual for a human to teach at the school, but Charles had heard that you had lost your teaching job due to standing up for a mutant student and believed you were a perfect addition to the school.

It was no surprise to Charles that you quickly formed a tight bond with many of the students and the staff. And that included the brooding history teacher, Logan. Logan hadn’t given you the warmest welcome, questioning Charles’ decision to bring a human on board, but it didn’t take long for you to wear him down.

Being a teacher sometimes meant working past contract hours, meaning you didn’t return home to your boyfriend. You had a room at the school, next to Logan’s, that you would use on really late nights. But you did your best to get home to your boyfriend every night you reasonably could.

You and your boyfriend, Josh, had been together for four years while you’d been working at the school for a year. The two of you have been living together for three years. Josh was there when you graduated from university and started your first teaching job, cheering you on. But slowly, your cheerleader turned into your worst nightmare. It started with verbal and emotional abuse, always putting you down for every little thing. The physical abuse started when you lost your job. Josh was anti-mutants and thought it was ridiculous for you to stand up for one. He slapped you for the first time that night.

It became a regular routine that if you were home too late for Josh’s liking, you would get a stern beating. At first, you had become an expert at hiding the scratches and bruises. But as the abuse continued, it started to wear you down. Those at the mansion began to notice little things, especially the fact that you weren’t as easily happy and smiley as you once were.

Logan noticed something was up almost as soon as he met you. Your smiles and laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were clearly fooling everyone but not him. The first few weeks of your arrival, Logan tried to observe you. You would try to make small talk with him in the hallways and in the faculty room, but he would simply grunt in response. He listened in on conversations that you had with others, quickly learning that you lived with your boyfriend Josh. He noticed that your heartbeat would quicken in a way he didn’t like when you talked about Josh. It was more fear than love, making him concerned. There was also the fact that no one had ever met the man.

One night, Logan saw you still in your classroom. It was late, but he wasn’t sure you realized it.

“You spendin’ the night?” He asked, leaning against the doorway.

Your eyes snapped to the clock. “Shit,” you muttered. You quickly began stuffing papers into your backpack. “It’s late.”

“Too late for the bus that you usually catch.”

“Shit,” you repeated. 

“Just stay the night. There’s a room next to mine that you’ve barely used.”

“I can’t.” You shook your head. Logan could sense your anxiety rising. “I need to go.”

“Do you think that’s—“

“I can’t stay!”

Your outburst took Logan back. “Okay… then need a ride?”

“No. I—I can walk.”

Logan scoffed. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive, but that doesn’t mean it’s a quick walk.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and headed for you. “Let me take you.”

“Logan, I—“

“No, arguments.” He grabbed your bag and swung it over his shoulder. His brows knitted together as he noticed how you tensed at his movements. “Let’s go.”

~~~

The two of you kept quiet the whole drive to your apartment. Logan could hear your heartbeat get faster and faster the closer the two of you got to your place. Your fingers anxiously tapped against your knees.

“You alright?” Logan asked, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“Fine,” you squeaked.

“You sure? You seem a bit anxious.”

“Just want to be home.”

Logan nodded. “How’s, uh… how’s Josh?”

“He’s… fine…”

“Good.” Logan pulled over and parked in front of your building. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Logan.” You reached back and grabbed your backpack. “See you in the morning.”

Logan quickly grabbed your wrist before you could slip out of the car. You tensed under his touch. “Let me know if you need me to pick you up in the morning.”

You pressed out a smile. “I’ll be fine. Thanks again.”

You pulled your wrist from his light grip, shut the door, and entered the building. Logan sat there for a moment. There was something wrong, he could tell. But he didn’t know you enough to force it out of you. With a sigh, he drove off.

~~~

Josh had seen Logan drop you off. He was furious, accusing you of cheating. He beat you up and, for the first time, raped you that night. You called in sick the next day.

That was months ago now. You and Logan were now dear friends, and you were careful not to anger Josh like that again. Logan had noticed that you were on edge more than normal, easily spooked, and wearing many layers despite the weather. 

“Somethin’s wrong,” Logan muttered as he entered your classroom.

“What?” You questioned, pulling your gaze from the test that you had been trying to grade for the last ten minutes.

“Somethin’s wrong, and you’re not telling anyone—telling me.”

“I’m fine, Logan. Just tired.”

Logan scoffed. “Then you’ve been tired since you started working here, and it’s been getting worse. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you’re coming to the staff party tomorrow night, right?”

“I can’t. Josh—“

“Bring Josh. We’d all like to meet him.”

“I can’t go.”

“If I have to go, you have to go. You know how much I hate events like these.”

“Then don’t go.”

“There you are!” Ororo exclaimed, coming into the room. “Jean and I are going to go dress shopping in the morning for tomorrow’s party. You want to come?”

“I don’t know—“

“She’d love to,” Logan replied for you.

“Great!” Ororo replied, clapping. “Jean and I will pick you up from your apartment. See you!”

You stood up angrily and began throwing things into your bag. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” your voice was more shaky than your movements. “I need to go.”

“I’ll drive you,” Logan offered.

“No! You’ve done enough!” A stray tear trailed down your cheek.

“Y/N…” Logan reached out quickly to stop your movements, but you flinched away. Logan’s eyes went wide at your reaction.

“I’ve got to go,” you hurried out of the classroom.

It took a moment for Logan to bury the anger threatening to boil over and rush after you. “Y/N!” You winced at his raised voice as you continued out of the mansion and towards the bus stop. “Wait!”

“Leave me alone, Logan!” You shouted after him, trying to stop the tears that wanted to escape.

“Y/N—“ 

His fingers caught your elbow, trying to turn you around. As soon as Logan’s fingers touched you, you were on the ground, trying to scramble away from him. Logan froze yet again, staring down at you with wide eyes. You were now curled in on yourself, sobbing.

“Please,” you cried. “Please don’t hurt me… I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’ll go… I’ll do whatever you want…”

Logan dropped to his knees slowly so as not to scare you off. His hands clenched his fists against his legs to stop himself from reaching out for you and to try to prevent his claws from coming out. He was going to kill whoever made you like this, and he had a sneaking suspicion of who that might be. He sat there, waiting for you to calm down. Eventually, you did calm down and were horrified at what had happened. Quickly sitting up, you couldn’t get yourself to look at Logan. You didn't want the pity or the anger or the concern. You grabbed your bag and stood up. Logan rushed to his feet.

“I’ve got to go,” you muttered.

“No,” Logan’s voice wasn’t loud, but the tone was clear. He did not want you to leave.

“Logan… please let me go. You’ll only make it worse.”

“You’re not going back there unless you can promise me that he’s not abusing you.” You closed your eyes, biting your lip as you tried to hold back the sobs. “I knew it. You’re not going anywhere near him again.”

“It’s not your choice, Logan… I… I love him, and he loves me. He’s just… going through a rough time right now, and I don’t always make it better.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “You are not going back there.”

“I have to… he’s all I have.” You stepped back, causing Logan to quickly take a couple of steps closer. “Let me go, Logan. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can… you’ve been doing it for a year now. This is no different.”

Your words hit Logan harder than he could have ever imagined. You have been going through this as long as you’ve known each other, perhaps even longer. He grew angry at himself for not trusting his instinct that something was wrong sooner. You could see that Logan was tearing himself apart inside. Hoping that it would distract him enough, you ran off barely making it to the bus on time. 

Logan broke out of his guilt spiral too late. He ran after you, but the bus was already down the road. He slowed to a stop, watching as the bus faded in the distance. His anger wanted him to race to your apartment and pull you out of whatever situation might greet you, but he knew it wasn’t the best choice. He needed to talk to someone—to people who cared about you.

~~~

“Thanks for coming,” Logan mumbled, trying to keep himself together. 

Logan’s hands were stuffed into his jeans as he tried to keep his claws in check. He was standing near one of the windows in Charles’ office, having asked him to call everyone there. Jean, Scott, Ororo, Hank, and Charles were all seated around the office, waiting for Logan to speak up.

“Y/N’s being abused,” he came right out and said it.

“What?” / “No!”

Logan immediately noticed Jean and Charles share a look. He stepped forward. “You knew,” he growled. “You both knew.”

“We’d seen things in passing,” Charles sighed. “We both have tried to talk to her about it, but Y/N would brush us off.”

“You let her go home to that hell every day?!”

“It was her choice. She wouldn’t confirm our suspicions and didn’t want any help.”

“There’s only so much we can do if Y/N doesn’t want our help,” Jean added.

“There’s plenty we can do!” Logan countered. “We can go over there and bring her back!”

“It needs to be her choice, Logan,” Ororo said calmly. “We can’t force her into anything. She’s already living that life.”

“I can’t—“ He groaned, slamming his fists down on Charles’ desk. “I can’t sit here and do nothing!”

“That’s not what they’re saying,” Hank spoke up. 

“We make sure she feels safe here,” Charles said. “We make sure she knows that we care.”

“Jean and I are going dress shopping with her in the morning,” Ororo said. “We’ll check on her there.”

“Actually, I just got a message from Y/N,” Jean said. “She’s not coming anymore but said that Josh and she will be at the party.”

“We will not make a big deal out of it,” Charles gave Logan a warning look. “We will welcome Josh and observe the two carefully.”

“That’s not enough,” Logan grumbled before marching out of the room.

~~~

You had wanted to go with Jean and Ororo dress shopping, but Josh told you that it was pointless. That you had plenty of dresses that he had wasted his money on that you could wear on your ugly body. Of course, he said all this after he beat you.

You were extremely nervous as Josh drove the two of you to the mansion. He knew that you taught mutants, only okay with it because it paid well, but the others didn’t know his distain for mutants. You couldn’t let the nerves get to you, or there would be consequences. Josh was already upset that you were “forcing” him to go, but you knew he was trying to stake his claim on you somehow.

Josh didn’t bother to help you out of the car once he parked. He sauntered straight over to the large door and turned back with a scowl.

“Stop being so slow,” he griped. 

When you were close enough, Josh grabbed your hand, gripping it tightly as a warning, before the two of you entered. There were more people invited to this party than you thought. Looking around, you realized there were faculty members, previous graduates, and whoever they chose to bring.

“I thought you said this was a small party,” Josh said through gritted teeth. His nails threatened to draw blood from your hand.

“It’s what I was told,” you responded quietly, trying not to stutter as your anxiety grew. “I didn't know.”

“Stupid bitch.”

The sound of wood splintering made you jump and face the direction of where it came from. Logan was standing near the top of the stairs, hands on the railing that was clearly crushed by his grip. You swallowed nervously as you met his angered gaze. You knew it wasn’t towards you, but it still didn’t ease any of your anxiety.

“Logan,” you called, trying to sound happy. “Come down and meet Josh.”

Logan grunted, stomping down the stairs. Ororo walked in at the perfect time, noticing that Logan’s eyes were set on Josh. As soon as Logan made it down the stairs, Ororo slipped her arm through his and walked up to you and Josh.

“Hello, you must be Josh,” Ororo greeted. “I’m Ororo. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Josh let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. “I hope all good things,” he responded, pinching your side. “And you’re Logan.”

“I am,” Logan replied, holding out his hand for Josh to take. Josh took it, and Logan quickly tightened his grip. 

Ororo quickly patted Logan’s arm, signaling for him to let go before he did anything more. Josh looked around, silently judging everyone who passed.

“I’ve never been around so many… mutants before,” Josh said, not hiding his disgust.

“Well, this is a school full of them,” Logan retorted.

“Ah! Here you are!” Charles rolled up, interrupting.

You quickly introduced Josh to Charles as Ororo pulled Logan away, promising him a drink.

~~~

Josh would not let you leave his grip the entire night. He was clearly on edge, which wasn’t helping your anxiety one bit. You kept finding Logan staring at the two of you from wherever he was located in the room. Though Logan was never too far. You were too busy thinking about Logan to notice Scott walking by with a drink. You stepped forward, causing Scott to trip and spill his drink all over Josh.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, man!” Scott quickly apologized.

Josh gritted his teeth as he forced a smile. “It’s fine,” he said. He gripped your wrist tightly, making you wince. “We should go.” He began dragging you out of the party. “You stupid bitch,” he reprimanded as soon as the two of you were outside. “You never watch where you’re going.”

“I’m sorry, Josh!” You were already crying. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be. Just wait until we get home.”

“Wait until what, bub?” Logan was suddenly behind the two of you.

“Stay out of this.” Josh pushed you into the back of the car, slamming the door.

“That’s no way to treat a lady.”

“She’s my lady. I decide how she’s treated.”

Logan growled, unable to prevent his claws from slowly pushing out of his fists. You rushed out of the car and placed yourself between Logan and Josh.

“Logan, go back inside,” you urged. “Josh and I are heading home. I’ll be fine.”

“Listen to the lady, wolf,” Josh taunted.

Logan stepped forward, only for you to stop him with a hand to his chest. “Logan,” you called again. His eyes snapped to yours. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t trust him,” he responded, voice tight. 

“Trust me then. I’ll be fine… I’ll call you if I need anything and see you on Monday, alright?” Logan growled. “Alright?”

“Fine,” Logan huffed. He stepped back, scowling at Josh, who simply smirked at him.

“Let’s go,” Josh said, pulling you back to the car. He helped you into the passenger side before driving the two of you off.

~~~

Logan couldn’t sleep that night. Not when Josh could be beating the shit out of you. He didn’t bother to change from the party, opting to pace his room. He was so caught in his head that he jumped when his phone began ringing.

“Y/N?” He answered it.

“L—Lo—Logan…” your trembling voice on the other end had Logan’s feet moving faster than he could think.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He raced down the stairs and towards the garage.

“I need help.”

“I’m coming. I’m on my way. Are you safe?”

“He’s—He’s gone… He left to get more beer…”

“I’ll be right there. Don’t hang up.”

“…Okay.”

Logan’s heart was breaking with each word you said. You sounded so broken, so helpless. He absolutely hated it. Stealing Scott’s car, Logan raced for your apartment. He had to get you out of there before Josh returned. Who knew what that man would do to you if he had found out you had called for help?

Logan was out of the car so quickly that he barely put it in park. He took multiple steps at a time to get to your door.

“Sweetheart? It’s me,” Logan said, knocking and opening the door at the same time.

The apartment was a disaster. Items laid thrown around the room, some of them broken. Logan carefully stepped in, looking around for you. He sniffed, trying to use his senses to follow you. His heart dropped as he smelled blood. He followed the scent over to the bedroom, pushing open the door fully. The room was practically destroyed as well.

“Sweetheart?” Logan whispered, trying not to spook you.

“Logan?” Your broken voice sounded from the corner of the closet. 

Logan was quick to come to you, the movements making you cower further into the corner. He held his hands up, trying to show that he meant no harm. His eyes scanned your naked form, all bloodied and bruised. Logan had to stuff down the anger that was growing for Josh. You needed to be his focus.

“You came…” you rasped, almost like you didn’t believe he would.

Just when Logan thought his heart couldn’t break anymore, it did. “Of course I did. We need to get you out of here before he comes back.” He quickly slipped his jacket off and held it out to you. “Put this on.” You shakily took it, slipped into it, and zipped it up. “I’m going to carry you out of here, alright?”

“Okay…”

Closing your eyes, you bit back a wince as Logan carefully picked you up. He kept you close as he hurried down the stairs. He gently set you in the car, making sure you were buckled in before driving off. Logan gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove you to the mansion.

You were still trembling when Logan pulled up to the mansion and carried you inside. Charles had warned the others of what had happened and ensured that Jean and Hank were already in the lab, ready and waiting. Logan set you down on the bed. Before he could fully pull away, you reached out and clutched onto his arm, fingers digging into his flesh.

“Don’t—“ you croaked. “Please, don’t leave…”

“Not planning on it, sweetheart,” he replied. “Just need a chair, and I’ll be right back.”

~~~

“She has a few broken ribs from tonight as well as various fractures,” Hank explained. You were on the other side of the lab, asleep, with Scott, Charles, Jean, Ororo, and Logan listening to Hank on the other. “Jean and I have stitched up the cuts and bandaged whatever needed. She has bruises of various ages that we have to watch, but we put ointment on them. Y/N will need a lot of rest and patience.”

“Has she said anything?” Ororo wondered.

Jean shook her head. “Not since requesting Logan to stay,” she responded. 

“That is to be expected,” Charles added. “She has spent years living in a traumatic environment. It will not be easy to break out of the habits and mindset she created to survive. She needs our care and patience the most, and we must respect her boundaries as she asks for them.”

“Jean and I are willing to split her classes so that she can take all the time she needs,” Ororo said.

Logan’s eyes were locked on you, waiting for you to wake. You had requested that he not leave your side, so he needed to make sure he was right there when you woke.

“I’ve already contacted a well-known therapist and asked them to stay with us for a while,” Charles informed. “I believe that it could help us all process whatever we need to.” He looked at Logan, who he knew was taking the blame on himself. “We should let her rest.”

“I’m not leaving her side,” Logan vowed.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

~~~

The world felt heavy as you began to wake. But it was different, heavier than what had weighed you down the past four years. Like you were more on your own than you ever were before. It took you a moment to realize that you were in the lab under the mansion. Looking around, your eyes eventually stayed on Logan. He was in a chair next to you, passed out. His head had fallen against his shoulder with his feet perched up at the end of your bed. Logan’s position didn’t look that comfortable, but you were grateful that he hadn’t left your side.

“Logan,” you tried to wake the sleeping man beside you. “Logan.”

Logan suddenly snapped away. His feet fell off the bed, landing harshly on the ground. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?” He was looking around like he needed to protect you.

“Sorry,” you apologized with a light laugh. “You just looked uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah.” He ran a hand down his face, trying to wipe the rest of the sleep from his eyes. “The chair’s not that comfortable. But I’d do it again.”

“You can go to your room, Logan. I’m fine… I think.”

Logan shook his head and moved his chair closer. “Not very convincing, darlin’. Also, you asked me to stay, so I’m staying.”

“Why? I’m… weak, and I’m terrible, and I’m stupid—“

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. None of that.”

“Why?” Tears streamed down your face. “It’s true.”

“None of it is true. It lies that—that Josh told you.” Watching for your reaction carefully, Logan took your hands in his. “You are better than him, sweetheart. You are better than what he made you believe you are. Trust me.”

“I… I don’t know how… to trust you… to trust myself.”

“You’ll learn.” 

“I… I don’t deserve your help.” You pulled your hands from his grip and looked away.

He sighed, carefully moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “Sweetheart, look at me.” It was such a gentle demand, but your head snapped to follow it. Logan immediately looked remorseful, realizing that he had caused you to do. The tears were still falling down your cheeks, causing his heart to sink. “Y/N, you deserve help. You know it, that’s why you called me.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have—“

“Yes, you should have. And you should have done it sooner… Y/N… I…” He groaned, clenching his jaw and looking away. He needed to keep his emotions in check. You were what was important here, not him. “You could have died… Hank said that you could have internally bled out if the hits had been a bit different. I can’t—I won’t let that happen. You are worth more than some… some dick who thinks owns you.”

“I’m not—“

“Yes. You. Are. And we—I will spend as long as it takes to get you to believe that.”

“That might be a long time…”

“Good thing I have forever.”

Part 2 >

[sicknessbysalem]

ooh I’ve been a sucker for sick before/during a performance lately and i deeply adore your fics!! so maybe any of the members of lex and soren’s band trying to make it through a performance or a recording session while feeling absolutely awful? your choice of who!

absolutely! i added that into this WIP i had of a very sick soren.

if you have any more requests, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw for emeto (lots of emeto), fevers, sick on tour.

The world outside was a blur of lights and movement, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window of their tour bus as they rolled into the next stop.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and equipment, a familiar atmosphere that Lex had long since come to associate with life on the road.

But tonight, the usual energy was subdued, the dim lights casting long shadows across the cramped space, adding to the quiet heaviness that hung in the air.

Soren lay curled on the narrow bunk, his back pressed against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, every shallow breath a careful, measured effort to keep the nausea at bay.

He’d been fighting it for hours now, a low, insistent ache that had started as a vague discomfort, a faint queasiness he’d hoped might pass with a little sleep. But as the hours dragged on, the nausea had settled in deeper, twisting in his stomach like a clenched fist, leaving him feeling weak, hollow.

Lex sat beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing gentle, absent-minded circles against the fabric of his shirt.

The touch was grounding, a steady presence that kept Soren anchored, even as the sickness gnawed at him, a relentless pressure that refused to ease.

Lex’s long, dark hair fell over his shoulder in soft waves, a few loose strands brushing against Soren’s arm as he leaned in, his gaze fixed on Soren with a quiet, unspoken concern that cut through the haze of discomfort, a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

“Do you want some water?” Lex’s voice was soft, a quiet suggestion that lingered in the air, a gentle nudge that didn’t press, didn’t demand, just offered a small, fragile comfort.

Soren shook his head, the movement slow, deliberate, as though even the slightest shift might set off the nausea again. His hand drifted to his stomach, his fingers pressing lightly against the ache, a small, useless gesture that did nothing to ease the discomfort but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churn in his gut. He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him feeling feverish, weak, a quiet, unyielding reminder of the sickness that had settled in deep, refusing to let go.

Lex’s hand drifted up to Soren’s hair, his fingers brushing through the pale strands in a soft, rhythmic motion, a small, grounding gesture that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

Soren leaned into the touch, his breathing shallow, each inhale and exhale a careful effort as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, from dragging him under.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, strained apology that lingered in the air, tinged with the quiet frustration of his own body’s betrayal. He hated feeling like this—weak, dependent, a weight on Lex’s shoulders when he knew they both had enough to worry about.

Lex shook his head, his hand moving to Soren’s back, a steady, reassuring touch that eased the tightness in Soren’s chest, the quiet anxiety that had been gnawing at him since the nausea had set in. “Don’t apologize,” he replied softly, his tone warm, a quiet reminder that he was here, that he didn’t see this as a burden, that he didn’t mind the weight. “Just focus on breathing. You don’t have to push through this alone.”

Soren took a slow breath, his head dipping as he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve. But the sickness clung to him, a low, insistent ache that twisted deeper, sharper, with every passing moment.

His stomach clenched, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over him, sharp and relentless, leaving him gasping for breath, his body tensing as he tried to fight it down, to hold it back.

But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up, relentless, and he barely had time to brace himself before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him breathless, his hand flying to his mouth as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand moved to his shoulder, a steady, grounding touch that kept him anchored, kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady presence that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth of his touch, the gentle reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone. “Just breathe—I’m right here.”

The nausea surged again, sharper this time, an insistent pressure that left him trembling, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers warm, comforting. He could feel the faint, damp chill of sweat beading along his forehead, a quiet reminder of his own weakness, the vulnerability he’d never quite learned to accept.

Lex pulled him forward a bit, getting Soren to lean over the edge of the bunk, where despite Soren’s will, his lunch made an unappetizing reappearance into the plastic bin Ksenia pushed in before she took her residence in the living area of the bus. Ksenia was never one for caretaking, so she left ample space for Lex to do his thing.

When the worst of it passed, Soren slumped back, his breathing shallow, uneven as he tried to steady himself, to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, his hand pressed against his stomach as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers brushing through Soren’s hair in a small, soothing gesture, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

“You’re okay,” Lex murmured, his voice soft, a gentle reassurance that lingered in the air, a warmth that seemed to cut through the discomfort, to settle over Soren like a blanket, easing the tension, the weight that had been pressing down on him.

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea lingering, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to ease, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling drained, hollow, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

“Think you can rest a little?” Lex asked, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, a quiet question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren nodded as he let out a slow, careful breath, his hand resting on Lex’s knee, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, kept him anchored in the warmth of Lex’s presence.

He knew, on some level that he had someone beside him, someone who saw him, who understood. But the thought of leaning on Lex, of letting himself be vulnerable, left him feeling exposed, fragile, a quiet discomfort that he couldn’t quite shake.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

-

The hours wore on, and the low ache in Soren’s stomach refused to ease, twisting and tightening until it felt as though every breath, every small movement, was a battle against the nausea that seemed to coil deeper, sharper with each passing moment.

He lay there, curled in on himself, his forehead pressed against the cool wall of the bunk, his breaths shallow, careful, as though even the slightest shift might tip him over the edge.

Lex hadn’t moved from his side, his hand a steady, comforting presence on Soren’s back, tracing gentle circles, the rhythm grounding, familiar. He could feel Lex’s gaze on him, warm and concerned, a quiet, unspoken question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone, that he could lean into the comfort, the support Lex offered so freely.

“You’re really not looking great,” Lex murmured softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, a gentle observation laced with concern. “I’ve got some ginger tea I could make, or… I have something stronger if you want.”

Soren managed a faint shake of his head, the movement slow, hesitant, as though he were trying to push past the discomfort, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

The thought of taking anything felt distant, unreal, his focus turned inward, fixed on the relentless ache, the quiet, insistent nausea that gnawed at him, leaving him feeling hollow, weak. Soren wasn’t even sure if he could hold it down, tea or otherwise. So, why bother?

But Lex didn’t push, just shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest on the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, steady, a small, grounding touch that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Soren leaned into the touch, letting out a slow, unsteady breath, his body slumping, the exhaustion settling over him like a weight, leaving him feeling drained, empty.

The nausea crested, sharp and insistent, a fresh wave that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the bunk as he fought to keep the sickness at bay, to push it down, to hold it back.

But his body betrayed him, the nausea rising with a force that left him gasping, his throat tight, his stomach clenching painfully as he felt the sickness clawing its way up, relentless, unyielding.

Lex was there in an instant, his hand moving to Soren’s shoulder, a steadying touch that kept him grounded, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Okay, okay my love, I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “Just breathe—it’s alright.”

But the nausea refused to let go, clawing its way up with a force that left him trembling, his body giving in to the sickness in harsh, involuntary waves. He barely had time to lean over the trash can before his body gave in completely, each heave leaving him breathless.

His throat burned, the acidic taste sharp and bitter, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers gentle, soothing, a small, familiar touch that kept him steady.

“It’s okay,” Lex murmured, his voice a quiet, constant presence, a warmth that settled over Soren like a blanket, easing the weight, the discomfort that had been pressing down on him.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, relentless, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, drawn, a reminder of his own weakness, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his body sagging against the bunk, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort to keep the sickness from rising again. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve.

Lex reached into his bag, pulling out a small orange bottle. Soren heard the familiar rattle of pills in plastic. It was only then he realized he probably threw up the antipsychotics and did not, in fact, want to face trying again even if he feared what might happen without them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not those meds,” Lex said, Soren wondered if Lex could read his mind, “I’ve got some anti-nausea meds. They work wonders, really. It’s what made me stop puking during our New York stops.”

Soren hesitated, even as the nausea twisted, sharper now, a relentless ache that refused to let go. But Lex’s gaze was steady, warm with an unspoken encouragement that settled over him.

And, Soren thought, Lex had been vomiting for days, unrelated to some sort of virus, during their four stops in New York. And if what Lex said was true, that he took it then, it really did work wonders.

With a slow, shaky breath, Soren gave a faint nod, his hand drifting to Lex’s, a small, reluctant acceptance of the care that Lex offered so freely.

Lex offered a faint, reassuring smile, his fingers brushing against Soren’s as he opened the bottle.

Lex handed him a pill and a small glass of water, his touch steady, gentle, a quiet reassurance that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

“This should help,” he murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady encouragement that kept Soren grounded, even when everything felt so miserable.

Soren took the pill, the cool water soothing against his throat, a small comfort that settled over him like a blanket, easing the sharp, relentless ache that had been gnawing at him.

And as he leaned back, he let himself breathe, let himself sink into the warmth, the comfort that Lex offered, a small, fragile acceptance that settled over him, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s shoulder, Soren let himself lean into the comfort.

The nausea lingered, a low, insistent ache that refused to ease entirely, but with Lex beside him, with the gentle, constant touch of his hand, Soren felt a small, precious peace, a comfort that cut through the discomfort, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

And as he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the warmth, the familiarity of their connection, he felt the quiet, grounding reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone, that he didn’t have to face it all on his own.

-

Morning brought a tentative hope that the worst of the sickness had passed. Soren lay on the narrow bunk, his eyes half-closed as he took careful breaths, feeling the familiar ache in his stomach but noticing, with some relief, that it was duller than the night before.

The nausea lingered, a quiet, uncomfortable reminder of his body’s rebellion, but it was manageable, a low, insistent ache that didn’t overwhelm him, that allowed him a small, cautious optimism for the day ahead.

Lex sat beside him, a steaming cup of herbal tea cradled in his hands, the scent of ginger and chamomile filling the air, soothing in a way that seemed to settle Soren’s nerves, to ease some of the residual discomfort.

Lex’s gaze was warm, soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but he offered a faint, reassuring smile as he handed the cup to Soren, his hand lingering on Soren’s shoulder, a gentle, grounding touch that settled over him like a blanket.

“Think you’re up for the interview?” Lex asked, his voice soft, careful, a quiet question that didn’t press, that allowed Soren the space to answer honestly.

Soren took a slow sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through him, a small comfort that eased the tension coiling in his chest.

“I think so,” he replied, his voice steady, though he could feel the faint edge of uncertainty lingering beneath the words. “I’m… better than last night, at least,” he added.

Lex nodded, his hand moving to rest on Soren’s back, a gentle, reassuring presence that kept him grounded, that reminded him he didn’t have to carry this alone.

“If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll take it slow,” he murmured, his voice warm, a quiet, unspoken encouragement that settled over Soren like a blanket.

With Lex’s support, Soren found the strength to get ready, moving through the familiar motions of his morning routine, each step careful, measured, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance.

The nausea lingered, a faint, uncomfortable ache that settled low in his stomach, but he pushed it down, held onto the hope that he could manage, that he could push through the day without letting it affect their plans.

By the time they reached the interview venue, the ache in his stomach had dulled further, a faint, manageable discomfort that left him feeling cautiously optimistic. He took a slow breath as they entered the studio, the familiar hum of pre-interview preparations settling over him, grounding him in the routines he knew so well.

Lex stayed close, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s arm, a quiet, steady presence that kept him anchored, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, even as the faint edge of discomfort lingered, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to let go entirely.

The interviewer greeted them with a warm smile, her energy bright and welcoming as she introduced herself, diving into the questions with an ease that put Soren at ease, that allowed him to settle into the familiar rhythm of answering, responding, moving through the motions with a practiced calm.

He could feel the discomfort lurking beneath the surface, a faint, nagging reminder of the night before, but he managed to push it down, to keep his focus on the conversation, on the quiet, grounding presence of Lex beside him.

As the interview wrapped up, Lex’s hand moved to Soren’s back, a gentle, comforting touch that settled over him like a blanket, a small, unspoken reassurance that he’d made it through, that he’d managed to hold it together, if only for a little while.

Soren let out a slow, careful breath, feeling a faint, tentative relief settle over him, a quiet hope that he could get through the rest of the day, that he could push through the lingering discomfort, the quiet, insistent ache that had been gnawing at him.

But as the day wore on, the nausea began to creep back, a low, relentless ache that settled in his stomach, twisting with each step, each small movement.

By the time they reached the venue for the night’s show, Soren could feel the discomfort intensifying, a sharp, insistent pressure that pressed against his ribs, his chest, leaving him feeling weak, unsteady.

He took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness at bay, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Lex noticed almost immediately, his gaze softening as he took in the tension in Soren’s posture, the way he was gripping his stomach, his jaw clenched against the discomfort.

Without a word, Lex moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s back, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing circles, a quiet, grounding presence that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a gentle, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “You sure you’re okay for this?”

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea building, sharper now, a quiet, insistent ache that settled low in his stomach, twisting with each breath, each careful movement.

“Yeah… just… need a minute,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could push through, that he could hold it together, if only for a little while longer.

But even as he spoke, he could feel his control slipping, the nausea rising with a force that left him breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He pressed his hand tightly against his stomach, his fingers digging into his side as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold it back, but the ache only grew sharper, more insistent, a weight that settled heavily, unyielding.

Lex’s hand drifted to Soren’s shoulder, a small, grounding touch that kept him anchored, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“If you need to sit this one out…” Lex’s voice was soft, careful, a gentle suggestion that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren managed a faint, weak smile, though he could feel the nausea clawing its way up, sharper now, a quiet, relentless pressure that left him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the nearby chair as he fought to steady himself, to keep the sickness from dragging him under.

“I can handle it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, desperate assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through the discomfort.

But the nausea surged again, sharper this time, a relentless ache that left him gasping, his body giving in to the sickness with a force that left him breathless, weak.

He barely had time to lean over the trash can Lex had set beside him before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him shaking, his hand gripping the edge of the can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex was beside him in an instant, his hand moving to the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, comforting, a small, familiar presence that kept him steady, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that settled over Soren like a blanket, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to carry this on his own.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, unrelenting, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his head hanging, his hand still pressed to his stomach as he fought to catch his breath, the nausea lingering like a dull ache, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion. He felt weak, hollow, each breath a careful, measured effort, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers gentle, soothing, a quiet, steadying presence that kept Soren grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, babe, you don’t look good at all,” Lex said softly.

“I don’t feel good, at all,” Soren said, sighing softly, “But I’ll… I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, because the reamins everything you’ve eaten in the past three days looking like some fucked up recipe for disastwr in the trash is a very clear indication you’re totally fine.” Lex said sarcastically, chuckling softly.

“If you ever describe it that way again, next round goes on you,” Soren mumbled, leaning forward to rest his head on the dressing room vanity.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s back, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady.

And in that small, quiet space, Soren let himself lean into the comfort, the warmth, a fragile, tentative acceptance that he didn’t have to face this alone.

As showtime drew near, Soren could feel the discomfort creeping back, sharper and more insistent with each passing moment. The cautious optimism he’d felt that morning, the faint hope that maybe he was on the mend, had faded, replaced by a familiar ache that settled low in his stomach, a relentless, twisting nausea that left him feeling hollow, unsteady.

He took careful breaths, willing the sickness to ease, to give him enough strength to get through the night, but the nausea only grew, sharper now, a quiet, insistent reminder that his body was protesting in ways he couldn’t ignore.

Lex stood beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt. It was a quiet, grounding gesture, a familiar warmth that cut through the haze of discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Lex’s gaze lingered on him, soft, concerned, a quiet, unspoken question lingering in his eyes, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just stayed close, his presence a steadying comfort that kept Soren grounded.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this alone, that he didn’t have to carry the weight on his own.

Soren managed a faint, strained smile, his head dipping slightly as he nodded, his voice steady, though he could feel the tremor lingering beneath the words. “I’ve got this,” he replied, his tone firm, a quiet determination that belied the nausea twisting in his stomach, the sickness that clung to him, sharp and unyielding. He’d pushed through before—long nights, rougher shows, moments when he’d felt weaker, sicker than this. He could manage, he had to.

As the band took their places on stage, the roar of the crowd washed over him, a deafening wave that usually settled his nerves, that reminded him of the rhythm they’d built, the routines that held them steady. But tonight, every sound, every bright flash of the lights felt like an assault, each sensation amplified by the discomfort gnawing at him, leaving him feeling off-kilter, exposed.

Lex stayed close, his gaze flicking to Soren every now and then, a quiet, subtle check-in that kept him grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone. Soren’s hand drifted to his stomach, pressing lightly against the ache, a small, futile gesture that did nothing to ease the nausea but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churning in his gut.

He could feel the sweat breaking out along his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion, the weakness he could never quite accept.

The first song began, the familiar chords reverberating through the stage, grounding him in the routine, the rhythm he knew so well. He focused on his guitar, each note a small, careful movement that kept his mind occupied, that allowed him to push the sickness down, to hold it at bay, if only for a little while.

Lex’s voice rose over the crowd, steady, powerful, a sound that seemed to cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the present, in the familiar warmth of their connection.

But as the minutes ticked by, the nausea grew sharper, more insistent, a low, relentless ache that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, weak.

He took careful breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together. But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up with a force that left him gasping, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t fight.

Soren took advantage of a small instrumental break, slipping to the side of the stage, his movements careful, deliberate, as he braced himself against the wall, his hand pressed tightly to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness at bay.

He barely made it to a small trash can set discreetly offstage before his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, his throat raw from the acid, the strain.

The sickness was relentless, each wave sharp, unyielding, leaving him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to steady himself, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

He barely had a moment to catch his breath before the next song began, the familiar chords pulling him back, forcing him to push the sickness down, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

He wiped his mouth, his hand shaking slightly as he steadied himself, forcing himself back onstage, back into the rhythm, the routine that kept him grounded, that allowed him to push through the discomfort, if only for a little while.

Lex’s gaze met his as he stepped back into place, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint, reassuring smile, a quiet assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

He could see the worry in Lex’s expression, the way his gaze lingered on Soren, a silent question, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just continued, his voice steady, powerful, a grounding presence that kept Soren anchored.

But as the night wore on, the nausea grew worse, sharper, a low, relentless ache that refused to let go, that twisted in his stomach with each song, each note. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Another instrumental break offered a brief respite, a small window for him to slip offstage again, to find a quiet corner where he could brace himself, his hand pressed to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness down, to hold it back.

But his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, the taste of acid sharp and bitter on his tongue, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t push through the night without consequence, but the thought of stepping down, of leaving Lex to handle it alone, left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, a quiet discomfort he couldn’t quite shake.

As he made his way back onstage, he could feel Lex’s gaze on him, a quiet, gentle concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren forced a faint, reassuring smile, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

Lex’s hand brushed against his arm, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to carry the weight alone, that he didn’t have to hold it all on his own.

But as the night drew to a close, the sickness refused to ease, each wave sharper, more insistent, a reminder that his body was reaching its limit, that he couldn’t push through without consequence.

By the final song, Soren could barely hold it together, his body trembling, weak, the nausea a relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, breathless, each breath a careful, measured effort.

Lex glanced over, his gaze soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint nod, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

And as the last notes faded, as the lights dimmed, he felt a small, tentative relief settle over him, in the form of Lex’s arms wrapped around him.

-

The afternoon sun poured through the bus windows, casting a warm, gentle light over everything, a contrast to the relentless exhaustion that had plagued Soren over the past day.

He sat at the small table, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands, the faint scent of peppermint and ginger filling the air, soothing in a way that reminded him of Lex’s own quiet attentiveness, the careful way Lex had stayed beside him through the worst of it, grounding him, comforting him.

The sickness had lingered through the early morning, each hour a quiet battle against his own body, but by now, the nausea had faded to a dull, manageable ache, a faint discomfort that was nothing compared to the sharp, relentless sickness that had gripped him the day before.

He took a slow sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through him, easing the last remnants of tension that clung to his body, a reminder of the vulnerability he could never quite shake.

Lex sat across from him, his long, dark hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, his gaze soft, warm, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his expression.

He’d been watching Soren with a gentle, attentive gaze, his gaze lifting every so often from his phone or his notebook.

“Feeling better?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push himself, that he could take things slow, that he could let himself recover at his own pace.

Soren nodded, managing a faint, reassuring smile as he set the tea down, his hands resting on the table as he leaned back, letting out a slow, careful breath.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice steady, though there was a faint edge of exhaustion lingering in his tone. “Finally feels like it’s passed… thanks to you,” he added, a small, grateful smile flickering at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of the care Lex had offered so freely, so gently.

Lex waved off the thanks with a soft smile, but his gaze lingered, a subtle warmth in his eyes that conveyed more than words ever could—a quiet understanding, a comfort that had always been there between them, a connection that needed no explanation.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to rest lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the silence stretching between them, Soren’s gaze drifted to Lex’s face, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes, the slight tension in his expression, a subtle discomfort that hadn’t been there before.

It was small, barely noticeable, but Soren had known Lex long enough to recognize the subtle shifts, the quiet signs that hinted at something deeper, something Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Lex cleared his throat softly, a faint, almost absent-minded sound that Soren had come to associate with Lex’s own discomfort, a small, unconscious habit that often preceded the early signs of sickness. It was subtle, a quiet tic that most people wouldn’t notice, but to Soren, it was a small, telling detail, a hint that Lex might be feeling the first stirrings of whatever illness had overtaken Soren. Lex only ever cleared his throat this much when he was feeling like he was about to vomit, as if doing so would dislodge the sickness from his throat and go back down, a habit picked up to avoid throwing up, Lex always hated getting sick like that.

“You alright?” Soren asked, his tone light, casual, though there was a faint, gentle concern lingering beneath the question, a quiet, unspoken hope that Lex might be willing to acknowledge the discomfort, to let himself lean into the support that Soren was ready to offer.

Lex glanced up, his gaze meeting Soren’s, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something unspoken in his expression, a small, vulnerable look that settled over him, before he brushed it off with a faint smile, a small, self-assured nod. “Yeah… just tired,” he replied, his tone calm, steady, though there was a faint edge of something else lingering beneath the words, a quiet discomfort that hadn’t quite settled.

He cleared his throat again, a small, almost reflexive gesture, his gaze dropping to the tea in his hands as he took a slow sip, his movements careful, deliberate, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance. Soren’s gaze lingered, a quiet, gentle concern settling over him as he watched Lex, taking in the small, subtle shifts in his posture, the faint way his hand trembled as he set the cup down, the way his gaze seemed to drift, unfocused, a quiet discomfort lingering in the background.

“You’re sure?” Soren pressed, his voice soft, a gentle, unspoken question lingering in the air, a quiet hope that Lex might let himself lean into the comfort, the support that Soren was ready to offer, a small, tentative invitation to share the weight, to let Soren take care of him for once.

Lex’s smile was faint, a small, grateful expression that flickered at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of Soren’s concern, though he didn’t answer, didn’t give any indication of the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface. Instead, he reached across the table, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the quiet stretching between them, Soren could feel the faint, subtle tension in Lex’s touch, the quiet discomfort that lingered in the background, a small, unspoken reminder that there was something more beneath the surface, a hint of vulnerability that Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge. But Soren didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just held Lex’s hand, a quiet, grounding presence that kept them both steady, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone.

And as the afternoon sunlight filled the space, casting a warm, gentle glow over them, Soren felt a small, quiet understanding settle over him, a reminder of the quiet strength, the connection they shared, a bond that needed no words, no grand gestures, just a hand on a shoulder, a quiet, steady comfort that held them both, even in the vulnerable moments, even in the quiet, unspoken understanding that lingered between them.

As the silence stretched on, Soren couldn’t shake the faint, lingering feeling that hinted at the possibility of Lex coming down with the very same illness he’d struggled through.

It was subtle, a small, almost imperceptible shift in the air, a quiet tension that lingered in the background, but Soren knew, in that small, fragile moment, that he would be there, that he would offer the same care, the same quiet support that Lex had given him.

Soren didn’t miss the way Lex set down his mug of tea like it had personally wronged him, or that the mere thought of drinking more would make his body stage an all out rejection. But, he didn’t say anything about it, Soren didn’t ask.

Soren moved to sit next to Lex, closing the space between them, wrapping an arm around Lex’s shoulders as if that would protect Lex from whatever knocked Soren so badly.

“Come here,” Soren said, rubbing Lex’s shoulder, “I’ve got you.”

[43sol]

Probably die first in a horror movie

[spaghett-onaplate]

depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[claire-starsword]

Invited to a cult at lunch to "cleanse myself with good energy" or whatever, i wonder if the woman was out to recruit anyone or if i legit looked that rancid

[phagodyke]

I slept rly deeply last night even tho it took me a while to get to sleep but I think that was bc I had acid reflux and I'd been playing videogames too late not anything else.... still only got 6 hrs but doing pretty okay all things considered 😚

[depresseddepot]

I'm trying to find ways to slowly ease my way into taking walks (debilitating social anxiety) so I was going to download pokemon go again but my phone is too old :(

[szczylpierdolony]

so many things about me could be explained by the fact that i didnt know people hung out with their school friends during summer/school breaks until i was 17

[agayconcept]

.

[totheidiot]

don't you just love it when you're simply walking from your school to the bus terminal and you don't have music playing in your ear in 100x volume so it's just you and your thoughts and now you are really stressing about whether or not you are a lovebomber and don't even know that.

[orangerainforest]

x

[luckyguyy]

i truly just got so sweaty walking around with a backpack and had to come back into work like literally with a sweat outline of my backpack on my cute lil shirt and it was so embarrassing i rlly just want to curl up and cry!

[whimsyvixen]

𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 ~ 𝟙/?

Stalker Fic (original work)

Rating: 18+ Pairing: Female Reader x Male Yandere Synopsis/Excerpt:   It felt like someone was looking at you. A predator looking at a fawn. Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart. WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark fic, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, stalking, yandere, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, masturbation, captivity, non-consensual bondage, dacryphilia, forced breeding, forced orgasm, vaginal sex, fuck or die, tags will grow as this story progresses. ⚠️READ THE TAGS: Please be aware this work contains content that the reader may feel uncomfortable with or otherwise triggered by. DO NOT READ if bothered by tags . NO minors. ⚠️

A/N: Wooo! so I finally decided to make story for this post I made awhile back (a thousand thank you's to everyone who liked and commented <3 ). Please read up on the tags, so you know what to expect in the coming chapters. Happy reading!

-Dividers by @adornedwithlight-

It was raining outside, the distant thunder and pitter patter of raindrops hitting the window creating a lullaby that was lulling you to sleep. Combined with the soft rumbling of the bus, you could feel your body’s desperate need for rest after a grueling shift at work. 

Familiar streets and roads were tracked by your eyes, the expected relief of almost getting home brightening up your mood despite the gloomy weather. You estimated that you'll reach your destination in less than half an hour, rummaging through your purse to take out your phone to set up a timer in case sleep overtakes you and you miss your stop. 

Pressing the lever of your seat to recline, you got comfortable and laid your cardigan over your chest, finally giving in to the urge of closing your eyes. Seconds ticked by and all you could think about was how you couldn't wait to be in the comfort of the soft bedding on your mattress. Your muscles were practically begging for relief and you had enough pillows and blankets waiting for you back home to alleviate this problem. 

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes that passed– your mind completely disassociating from reality while you snoozed– when your peace was shattered. A shiver of unease ran through you, waking up your consciousness abruptly and causing you to jolt awake. 

The same feeling that’s been haunting you for weeks now was back.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood and your heart rate picked up.

It hadn’t always been like this. You could still remember a time when you climbed inside the vehicle without your gut twisting anxiously. At first, you chalked it up to it being caused by some low level of anxiety you were experiencing or lack of restful sleep. Something that could be easily remedied by swallowing a pill stashed inside a drawer back home.

However, as of late, a feeling of wariness and fear seemed to consume you, your fight or flight response triggered whenever you climbed up the stairs of the bus, each step weighing heavy on your legs as you went to take your seat.

It felt like someone was looking at you. 

A predator looking at a fawn.

Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart.

The paranoia getting to you, you turned your head to the right, swallowing down your nervousness as you tried to find the source of your panic. 

There was a man seated in the opposite seats across from you. His stretched out and bulky frame took up much of the space, the black cap on his head and the mask he wore obscuring his features and giving him a mysterious vibe. The turtleneck shirt clung to him, emphasizing the broad muscles of his upper body even in his relaxed state. His back was to the window, his left leg bent in a careless fashion along both seats, facing you directly as he was browsing through his phone. 

At least, you thought that's what he was doing. You didn't want to believe that the man was taking unwanted pictures or videos of you while you slept. 

You didn't realize you were staring for too long, the stranger’s attention shifting away from his phone when he could feel your gaze, freezing you in place as your eyes connected with those dark depths. For some reason, you couldn’t look away, too afraid to blink as a chill took over you from being under the perusal of those piercing eyes. There was something wrong, you just couldn’t explain it. He tilted his head to the side, regarding your stunned state for a moment before his eyes crinkled with amusement. He waved good naturedly at you, a normal gesture of greeting that you would've returned if not for the twisting of your gut that warned you against doing such a thing. 

When you didn’t return his gesture, the stranger’s eyebrows furrowed in dejection, bringing his hand down to lay against his lap almost disappointedly. 

A good few seconds passed with both unwilling to look away from each other. 

Your eyes, firm and guarded while his were inquisitive and curious.

As if finally sensing your unease, the stranger backed off by turning to sit properly in his seat and shifting his focus back to his phone. 

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, you grabbed your purse and whipped out your phone, your shaky hands nearly dropping it when you first grabbed it. Turning the screen on, you realized you had taken a ten minute nap with seconds to spare from your alarm ringing. You were mere minutes away from arriving at your stop.

Taking a quick glance at the stranger once more, you tried to rid your paranoid thoughts that he was the reason for your being on edge these past few weeks. It couldn’t be, you tried reasoning to yourself. If anything, you were in the wrong for staring at him funny when you’ve never seen him before. Maybe this was his first ride on the bus and you made his experience weird because you kept looking at him as if accusing him of something heinous. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly and not spook you when you caught each other’s eye by accident. Maybe your groggy mind was making things up about a complete stranger. 

Could the stress of work and your responsibilities piling up for the past few months be messing with your awareness? There was nothing special about you. You weren’t an important person. There was nothing, no gifted ability or priviledge, that separated you from the throngs of people you saw every day while heading to work. Why would someone want you with your bleak existence and no future aspirations?

Your anxiousness and worry slowly left you when you drew those conclusions about yourself, replaced with self pity as you realized you really had nothing going for your life. The somber expression staring back at you through your phone’s black screen only dimming your mood further. 

It was a while before the bus slowed to a stop, the driver’s familiar voice announcing your destination and making you stand to walk to the front. Not paying attention to your footing, you tripped over your own feet and felt gravity pull you under. A small yip tumbled out of your lips, feeling pain on your left elbow from the hard impact on the floor. Your purse went flying in a comical fashion, your disoriented mind not sure in which direction it landed or if anything fell out of it. 

Embarrassment quickly flooded you, feeling the eyes of other passengers stare at you and hearing a few snickers amongst them. Wincing from the blossoming pain in your arm, you had barely braced your hands on the floor ready to stand up, when you felt warm hands encircle your waist.

“Here,” a deep voice whispered against your ear. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

You were lifted from the floor easily, your weight meaning nothing to the man as he held you gently until you got your bearings straight. You looked up at him, having to crane your neck upwards due to his tall height and seeing it was the masked stranger.

“I, uhm.. Thank you,” you stuttered over your words, a flush of heat blooming in your face at his proximity. You wanted to kick yourself for how high pitched your voice sounded, unable to maintain eye contact with him when he gazed so intently back at you. If you dared to say, it felt like he was trying to memorize every small detail about your face– birthmarks, the slope of your nose, shape of your lips, the emotion in your eyes. Realizing that you still held on to his arms wrapped around your waist, you nervously laughed before going to break yourself away from the intimate embrace. 

“I’m okay now, you can let go,” you assured him, the fake smile plastered on your face concealing your tense disposition from his closeness. 

You chose to ignore the way his fingers dug momentarily into your waist, gripping you a little too tight to be normal before he loosened his grasp, allowing you to generate a more respectable distance between you and him. Seeing your startled reaction to his handling of you, the stranger immediately apologized for his actions.

“You’ll have to forgive me for my forwardness.” He told you, imploring you with his eyes that he meant no harm. He bent down to pick up something on the floor, his other hand holding up the strap of your purse for you to take it. “I only wanted to make sure you wouldn’t trip over yourself again.”

“Oh! I-It’s ok really, I-,” your words were interrupted by the harsh voice of the driver telling you to hurry to the front if you planned to get out. You quickly snatched your purse back, ignoring the little jolt of electricity that zipped through you when you grazed his fingers. “Um, I have to go but thank you, again! Bye!” 

You turned to walk briskly down the steps of the bus, thanking the bus driver for his patience and stepping out into the familiar streets of your neighborhood. Luckily for you, the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, an umbrella not needed for the small trek you took to arrive at the apartment where you’ve been renting for the past year. 

Locking the door behind you, you sighed audibly before throwing your purse at the chair nearest you. You walked over to your room, kicking off your shoes to land haphazardly along the floor because you were too tired to bother putting them away. Removing your damp clothing, you grabbed a towel and some night clothes to head to the shower.

Relaxing under the spray of lukewarm water, you found your mind straying to the stranger in the bus. 

Who was he? 

You weren’t lying that you had never seen him before. A man of his formidable size would have been easy to spot, sticking out from the rest of the passengers like a sore thumb. He was dressed peculiarly too, his attire giving off the impression that he values secrecy and privacy. And his voice! Goodness, you could feel yourself nearly melt remembering the richness of it. The way he held you like a dainty object didn’t escape your notice either, your cheeks aflame at how good his hands felt around your waist. The feminine thrill that his presence ignited was hard to subdue, unbidden thoughts of his hands squeezing and trailing over your naked body filling your mind.

Would his hands be soft and gentle? Or would they be strong and rough? 

As if your hands had a mind of their own, they moved up your body to cup your breasts making you gasp at the contact. You looked down at your chest, seeing the peaks of your nipples hardening under your soft touch. You tried envisioning his hands squeezing the doughy flesh, your head tilting to one side as you wondered if he'd be satisfied with your size. Small moans escaped you as you continued to fondle yourself, closing your eyes and imagining him whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he teased your breasts. You were sure he’d trail a line of kisses down your neck, pressing his naked front against you so you could feel his excitement poking at the small of your back. A sudden hard pinch to your nipple brought you out of your fantasy, the thought of his cock causing your fingers to twist the sensitive tip excitedly. 

You shook your head under the shower, trying to calm your racing thoughts before they got more explicit. 

To think such things about a man you hardly knew wasn’t good. What if you see him again tomorrow? Could you bear to look at him knowing where your thoughts were straying at this moment? 

You winced, memories of the loaded eye contact you threw his way making you want to smack yourself. Maybe you should apologize next time you see him. To prove to him that you weren’t a crazy lady that regularly gave the stink eye to neighboring passengers. Explain that your stress was getting to you. Perhaps be the first to wave at him next time to show there was no animosity between you. Maybe something could develop once you introduced each other, a giddy little voice tickled your ears.

Once you were done showering and drying your hair, you went back to the living room for your purse. You had placed your phone inside so the rain couldn’t wet it. You needed to wake up at a good time tomorrow to get ready for work so setting up an alarm was crucial. When you grabbed your purse, you noticed it felt lighter and looked down to see it was unzipped and wide open. 

Oh No. There’s no way…

You dug your hand inside, hoping to feel the familiar mass of your phone only to come out empty handed. Then you remembered your fall from earlier.

“Damn it, it must have fallen off when I fell,” you cursed under your breath, gnawing on your fingernail in worry for a minute before sighing tiredly. You needed to sleep and staying up late thinking about your lost phone was not going to help. You’d have to wait until tomorrow morning to ask the driver if anything was found.

Turning off all the lights in your place, you finally headed to bed, a yawn leaving your mouth as you placed a knee in your mattress. Under the covers of your blanket, you tried clearing up your mind so you could sleep quickly. A sudden image of the masked stranger flashed through your head, your growing curiosity of him affecting you even in your most tired state.

Right before you slept, a nagging at the back of your mind told you to be wary of him.

~

A man lay on his bed alone, hair plastered to his forehead as he breathed harshly. His shirt was raised to his waist, exposing his naked pelvis and muscled thighs as he pumped his rigid dick at a furious tempo. 

His choked groans and huffs were muffled by his mask, the man tilting his head back on his pillows to bask in the pleasurable sensations of his hand firmly stroking his length. Perspiration ran down every inch of him, the sweat dampening his bed and making him grunt at how his sheets clung to his heated skin. He slid his hand down his shaft– tightening his grip when he got to the base– hissing when it caused his cock to twitch before sliding it up once more to tease his cockhead and repeat the process. The squelch of the lubricant coating his dick was a decadent symphony next to his pleasured grunts, the aggressive handling of his pleasure nearly causing him to erupt as he continued to fuck his fist. 

He was nearly there, half lidded eyes eyeing the drop of precum threatening to slide down his shaft and mix with the lubricant. 

No, he didn’t want to cum so soon. Not without the image of the pretty bird he’d been stalking for the past month etched in his brain. God, she was so beautiful. Never had he seen a more perfect woman than you. His hands tightened remembering how soft and demure you were when he picked you up. The slight tremble in your body and your skittish behavior making him want to devour you where you stood. 

Biting his lip, he slowed his pace and closed his eyes in concentration, conjuring up an image that would help to reach his climax.

In his mind, it was no longer his hand wrapped around his dick. 

Instead, smaller hands were slowly stroking him in an almost reverent manner, seeming to worship every protruding vein and jerk of his member. A small gasp escaped you when cum drizzled out of his tip, smearing your fingers with the warm liquid to combine with the lube drenching his dick. He could feel the stickiness of it running down his thighs and balls, causing him to shudder at the sensation. 

He could see you biting your lip anxiously, staring at him with those expressive eyes of yours waiting for his instruction. Unable to resist, he'd grab your hair and yank you his throbbing cock, your flushed face gasping at the heat emitting from his rod of meat pressed against your cheek. He hoped you were a smart girl, knowing what he desired from you as he slapped his dick on your lips. 

He'd stare you down, arching an eyebrow as he waited for you to open that sweet mouth of yours. He knew he wasn't a small man–his girth was enough to intimidate even his most experienced past partners– but he was sure he could teach you how to swallow him down like a good girl.

You'd hesitate for too long, testing his patience. He’d need to be firm with you then. He'd pinch your nose between his fingers, blocking your airways and driving you to open your mouth to take a breath. It was all he needed to shove half of his cock inside your heated orifice. A guttural groan would echo in his room, the warmth of the hot cavern of your mouth and wiggling tongue on the underside of his dick making him see white for a second.

He could picture your muffled whimpering, your hands bracing against his thighs to pull away. He'd lift his upper body to get a better grip on your head, not allowing you to escape and forcing more of his dick down your throat. He'd praise you for being so good and lovely for him. Telling you to relax your throat, to make it easier for you. Before long, you'd obey his commands and start bobbing your head slowly to adjust to the fullness in your mouth. 

He'd allow you to work at your own pace, content with seeing your tear ridden face for a few minutes more before taking over when you were going too slow for his liking. Your eyes would widen with alarm when he thrusted his hips up, a gargled whine vibrating through his manhood from the fierce jab in your throat. He’d repeat the same action again, a pleased groan rumbling out of him at the feel of your mouth struggling to accommodate him. From there on, he'd use you like a fleshlight, gripping your hair tightly to pull your face down to every one of his savage thrusts. Spittle and cum would rain down your jaw, messing your appearance as you gagged and moaned around the dick hammering your throat. 

It was the fantasy of seeing you look up at him, eyes pinched with distress and tears streaming down your heated and sweaty face, that made him finally snap.

His hips jerked up in his hand, his body vibrating violently just as his cock shot out endless ropes of cum in the air. He grunted with each twitch of his pelvis, feeling the warm liquid pooling in the crevices of his contracting abs and staining his shirt. His chest heaved with exertion, the stranger breathing heavily as a result of cumming from his heightened lust. His mask hid his delirious smile, the stranger chuckling to himself at the euphoria he felt and the mess he created.

Only you could make him cum so strongly to drive him to lose himself.

Minutes passed until he was able to get his breathing under control, begrudgingly getting out of his bed to clean himself up. 

Something about you had him hooked. What started off as a fleeting crush morphed into a distorted and unhealthy obsession, the stranger falling deeper in love with you every passing day, as well as the urge to take you growing exponentially worse. .

He longed to know what it felt like to have you in his arms, the thought keeping him up often at night.

Luckily for him, his wish finally came true tonight, remembering the softness of your body in his hands. You were a small little thing compared to him, barely reaching his chest. It wouldn't take much to overpower you, the statement giving rise to depraved thoughts of your squirming body underneath him, naked and helpless under his ardent touch. It took everything in him not to pull you closer, wanting to feel your delicious shape against his frame as the fantasy played in his head. He hated his mask at that moment, realizing he could've caught a whiff of your scent too if he wasn't keen on hiding his identity. 

The stranger's eyes furrowed in displeasure at this, angry at himself for missing an opportunity to know you more intimately. Turning off the sink, he didn't bother to dry his hands when he ripped his mask off and flung it in the trash. 

In a foul mood, he exited his bathroom and marched towards his study. It was already past midnight but there was something important he had to do before he slept.

Entering the room, he didn't bother to close the door and sat down, sliding the chair closer to his desk to get to work. He was inputting his PC’s password when he glanced at the rectangular object next to him.

It was your phone. 

He inspected it, taking note of your phone cover and thinking it suited someone like you. He pressed the on button, seeing your phone screen light up and ask for the passcode to access it. He typed in a few guesses and not to his surprise, none worked. 

No worries. This would only be a momentary issue. Nothing that he couldn't crack open once he plugged your device to his computer. Sure enough, within a few moments, all your browsing history and personal information was revealed to him. His eyes traveled greedily over all your files, desperate to know who you were and what you liked.

His impatience to claim you was nearing a tipping point. He already had a small taste of you and it was not enough. HIs hands clenched into fists. He wanted more. Desired to thoroughly possess you and infect you with his love. 

One way or another, you were going to be his.

He would make sure of it.

[stvrnzcherries]

WHEELS ON THE BUS

m. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: You and Matt have always been best friends, you never felt something else but an incident while you both were in a road trip together might change that.

warnings: soft dom!matt, smut, pet names, use of y/n, foreplay, p in v, degrading kink, sort of breeding kink, edging, bulging, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't).

a/n: After MONTHS of being a lazy ass and also after a TIGHTT week of anxiety, I’m back and better than ever 🤍 expect more coming soon, I appreciate y’all.

Based on this request!

not proofread!

౨ৎ

The cold breeze tingled Matt’s skin, sending shivers down his spine as he kept piling up everyone’s bags inside the car truck, the blue hour of the sky created this dark yet comforting panoramic view of it.

A voice in the distance caught his attention “Wait up!” You taunt, running down to your best friend as a heavy bag carried behind you. You agreed a few days ago to go on this trip with Matt and his family since he was practically begging you to spend an entire week with him; even though he knew you hated the beach, you hated feeling sticky or feeling a singular drop of sweat on your skin, being in heated places was a thing that always drove you to the edge and you would get in a bad mood the whole day because of it.

It was just too excruciating, but you accepted just because your best friend didn't want to spend an entire week without you yet he liked seeing you suffer since he had always known your hatred towards the beach.

“Here ya go,” You said as you lifted the bag with all the strength you had and handed it to Matt, he just looked at you, a cocky smile forming on his lips as he placed your bag on the last spot in the trunk. “You excited?” Matt asked, closing the trunk before his eyes returned to bore into yours waiting for an answer, “If you mean I'm excited about torturing myself an entire week on the beach, then yeah.” You replied sarcastically gaining a chuckle from him, “It’ll be fun, I promise.” He said, patting your head gently.

“I highly doubt that being in the hottest weather ever is fun, Matthew.” You said, sticking your tongue out, he just chuckled and messed your hair a bit, his hand gently moving to cup your cheek as he pinched it delicately, “Thank you for coming either way.” He smiled gently and you returned it.

The eye contact lasted for a few seconds before the lousy voice of Chris caught each other’s attention, you both turned around to see him walking towards you “Time to hit the road!” He says with a big smile as he places his arm around you, he looks at Matt and then at me, “Are you guys ready?” He asked to which you replied with, “Heck yeah! Let’s hit the road!” A bright smile smeared your face as you, Matt, and Chris made your way to the backseats.

When Chris stopped taking hold of you to go to the other side of the car you were left with Matt inside the car and his face giving slight concern. “What’s wrong?” You ask furrowing your brows slightly.

That is when you realize what it was, the backseat had no space left for you, and neither Matt nor you knew what to do, “Fuck.” He muttered to himself looking back to where his brothers were situated and back to you with an awkward face.

Matt thinks for a second before parting his lips to let out the sentence, “You could sit on my lap.” His palm softly patted his lap as he looked at you with a sly smile.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, the awkwardness getting the best of you as you got into the car and carefully down your weight on your best friend’s lap. To which he just placed his hands around your waist and gently sat you down on his lap. “Relax, you’re not heavy at all.” He whispers in your ear as the car door closes.

You looked back at him and smiled shyly, trying to hide the fact that he was caressing the sides of your hips with his thumbs.

The first two hours of the road were completely normal, you and the triplets had a karaoke session for half an hour, and the rest was to talk about what you guys wanted to do as soon as you arrived and enjoy some snacks. But now you guys were only an hour away from the beach house that the triplet's parents rented.

Nick and Chris had fallen asleep for a few minutes and you could also feel your eyes heaving from the energy you wasted the first two hours throughout the way, also the fact that you didn’t sleep that well last night. Matt on the other hand was with his headphones on the minute Chris and Nick closed their eyes.

You patted Matt’s lap to get his attention, you looked back at him as soon as you did that he took his headphones off “You okay? Need something?” He asked with slight concern.

“No, I’m fine, I was just wondering if I could get comfortable so I can sleep while we get there.” You said with a little smile plastered on your face as he nodded.

Matt spread his legs slightly so you could have more space to get as comfortable as possible, you rocked your hips a little to the sides so your lower back could be resting on Matt’s chest level or closer to it, and you rested your head on his shoulder as he put his headphones back on.

Your eyes closed so easily, and your mind drifted to your dreams so swiftly that you couldn’t even imagine.

Thirty minutes left inside the car, you were still in the embrace of Matt’s arms, your position shifting once in a while.

And how clueless of Matt for not thinking how touch-deprived he is, every time you switched your position while your slept you would move your hips or straddle his lap, making his dick twitch against his pants.

His breathing getting heavier, and his body was shaking trying to contain the pure excitement that just the smallest friction could do to him. He felt so guilty for his body reacting and finding pleasure in something meaningless; something completely common and normal.

He closed his eyes, trying to contain these feelings towards you, towards your body to stop the erection that he sooner or later would have to fix all by himself.

And also wish he could arrive as fast as he could to the fucking beach house.

After what seemed like a good twenty minutes of sleep, you finally opened your eyes carefully, trying not to get blinded by the rays of sun that were passing through the window, the change of scenery makes your stomach flutter with joy as you see the ocean peek through the reliefs of the street.

You turned your head to peek at your best friend who seemed to be sleeping, his dark circles showing off a little bit more with this new change of lighting that the car has. You smiled to yourself as you saw your best friend opening his eyes quickly when he felt your gaze on him. “Did you get to sleep for a bit?” You asked, your throat was dry and raspy, nonetheless, a good cup of water could fix it as soon as you guys arrived at the beach house you were staying in.

Matt nodded, his eyes looking away from yours as he changed his position a little, making your weight lift a little, a small poking sensation in your inner thigh as he did this action. Something felt off in your surface.

You looked down, scanning Matt’s lap to check if he had something in his pockets that could make this sudden change in position make you slightly uncomfortable.

Your eyes widened as you took a glance of what was the strange object poking your inner thigh, it wasn’t just an object it was more of a certain body part. You looked away in shame, forcing yourself to stare at the blankly looking headrest in front of you, your stomach feeling fluttered as you tried to stop thinking about what you just witnessed.

The beach house was beautiful outside, it was a two-story victorian summer house, with a small front porch with two wooden chairs and a tiny round wooden coffee table, the breeze hugging your skin nicely, everything seemed to be perfect, the weather in Long Island was just the perfect balance of not too warm and not too cold, it definitely felt like the summer vibes were there.

As you entered the house, your eyes were amazed by the interior, the walls were covered in this beautiful blueish floral wallpaper, the couches looked like they some sort of English sofas, and a small chimney facing a large path to the back porch of the house, the stairs that lead to the way to the different rooms where you would be staying in for the next week.

Matt steps beside you, glancing around the place, “Wanna share a room?” He asked nonchalantly as he looked at you, taking in all of your factions, you looked back at him “I thought you and Chris agreed on sharing the same room, though?” You retorted.

Matt brushed the strands of hair blocking his view, “Yeah, I thought so too until he decided that he now wants to share a room with Nick.” He sighed, “I think I’m going to go upstairs and shower and then take a nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in years.”

You nodded “Alright, I’ll catch you later.” You replied, giving a sly smile to him as he walked upstairs and disappeared out of your sight. Things have gotten awkward since you discovered the hard-rock erection he had back in the entirety of the ride. You didn’t say a word but interacting with him or even just looking at Matt made you nervous somehow.

Your mind kept racing with the thought of seeing his body react that way to you, does this mean he feels turned on by you? Should you do something about it?

A few minutes had passed and you explored the rest of the house already, you carried your bag in your left hand as you went upstairs, a room door slightly opened and a dim light reflected on the inside of it. You pushed the door gently, and the first thing you heard was the shower running down, Matt’s bag half-opened in the bed, you tossed yours to the other side, sitting down beside it, your head had a pounding headache that you couldn’t make it stop.

Scanning the room, you see the bathroom door halfway opened, the fog from the steaming water escaping through it, you could see Matt, his silhouette revealing the way his forehead was resting on the tiled wall of the shower, the water running down his back and cascading through his hair, his hands rubbing his face exhaustingly as he sighed in pure relief.

The way his muscles flexed each time he brushed his hair back was enough to make you soaking wet in your panties. You stood up, your steps closer and carefully just to get a better view of his silhouette.

You were there, your hand opening the door more, the squeaking sound blowing your cover because Matt looked right at you in the eye, the eye contact holding on for what seemed like an eternity. You shut the door and ran down to sit back on the bed.

Would it be worth it to risk it all?

Dawn arrives, you've been playing with Nick and Chris UNO matches for what seems like an hour now on the back porch of the residence, every match Nick either complained or Chris would make a mess and you guys would have to play all over again, that was until Nick threw a tantrum over him and they both went to their separate ways inside the house.

You were lying now on the couch of the living room, bored filling your senses, your phone not even making an effort to entertain you at all. You heard steps coming from the staircase, as you looked up you saw Matt, his hair was still a little wet and he looked like a brand new person in comparison to how he looked a couple of hours ago. “Hey, I’m going to drive around town, I was wondering if you would like to come with me?”

You stood up from the couch, “Sure! I was getting bored, so.” You both walked towards the front door, Matt opening it for you.

The town was almost like a sort of ghost town, with a few people walking down the sidewalk, and making their way to Amangasett beach. The lamp posts illuminated around with a tenuous yellowish light, the night sky revealing a pale moonlight. “Wanna go for a swim?” Matt’s voice takes you out of your trance.

“Yeah, I don't see why not.” You replied with a small smile as you moved to his seat and gave him a side hug, to which he just chuckled and kept his eyes on the road.

Matt parked the car in an almost empty zone at the beach, the place seemed clear of big crowds, just a few couples sitting by the edge of the ocean but no one else. As you got out of the car you took off your shirt and shorts quickly, running down to the ocean as Matt followed your pace, the both of you giggling.

Your body trembled when your toes grazed lightly on the water, the adrenaline and tingling sensation making your heart flutter anxiously, you kept sinking your body until half of your abdomen was fully covered by the ocean, you looked at the moon taking in the sight of it until you felt cold fingertips touch your lower back. “I’m glad you came with us,” Matt said, his voice sounding so distant yet it had a hint of something else you couldn't fully recognize.

He spins you around by grabbing your waist, your eyes meeting his as he pulls you closer, your breaths mixing with each other’s as he takes the sight of your face, his hands still positioned on your lower back. His eyes shone brighter than ever before. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?” You looked for a split second at Matt’s lips, his tongue sticking out to lick the inner corners of his lips before parting them.

“Yeah, friends…” He breathed out, his words laced with that unknown feeling you can’t recognize, his eyes giving a glint of lust as he looked at your lips.

Your mind drifts to the moment you both are in the car, his hard rock erection making you question whether it’s worth it to risk the friendship or pretend like it was a little accident, even though it wasn't little at all.

Or the shower incident, nothing of what happened today was by accident, there was not even a chance that it was.

Your attention gets drawn by his breath getting closer to your ear, his voice carefully whispering his words “What you thinking ‘bout?”

You licked your lips, your voice trembling and your words slipping out of your mouth sloppily “Nothing…w-why?” your lips pressing together as his breath reached down your jawline, his lips grazing the fine line of it teasingly, a low dark chuckle getting out of his mouth when he saw you shiver by the smallest contact.

“Remembering what you saw in the bathroom, hm?” His lips pressed tentatively, traveling from your jawline to your neck, you titled your head to the side to grant him more access, his hand sneaking down to grab your throat delicately as he kept abusing your sweet spots. His other hand caresses your waist.

“I don’t have a clue of what you’re talking about…” You breathed out, breathless whimpers coming out of your mouth as Matt kept doing his attack all over your throat, leaving hickeys and wet kisses all over. He hums, Matt’s vibrant voice coursing through your body “Really? How funny, considering you even tried to be sneaky about it.” He says as he returns to kissing your jawline, then your chin, and then he gets to your lips, tempting you to make the move, his teeth biting your lower lip gently.

“Don’t act so innocent now, you were sneaky about your little accident back in the car too.” Your words shut out with such confidence, you looked at him, your eyes piercing his as you took in his reaction of pure shock; his lips parted and that was the chance you decided to get to kiss him. The both of you synchronized perfectly as if your lips were meant to be for his.

Your hands went directly to his chest, your fingertips doing small circles around his collarbone as he pulled you closer by your waist. Your noses were touching at this point and the kiss got more intense, the both of you roaming your hands all over each other’s bodies.

You were now lying down on the backseat of the car, your hand gripping Matt’s hand as he sucked your right nipple, his other hand playing with the left one, your back arched off the seat and your legs were wide open, fully unclothed now in the secluded space that he decided to take you to. Your eyes closed as you let the overwhelming pleasure take control of your body, his tongue swirling around your nipple, your breathless whimpers making Matt get harder beneath you with each passing second.

His kisses trailed to your belly, kissing it intently “I’m going to stuff this beautiful body of yours with my babies” A dark glint on his eyes as he ascended back to your face to kiss you. His hand traveled down to where your folds were, his fingertips adding pressure as he moved them in circles, causing you to gasp at the sudden wave of pleasure you were experiencing. Your hands flew to Matt’s biceps, your nails burying deep inside his skin as he kept getting you all worked up.

His lips rushed to kiss yours, this time more desperate and sloppier than ever as he kept adding more pressure on your sensitive nub, your moans getting louder as the knot in your stomach gets stronger. “m’ god” You babbled between kisses, your eyes closed as you take in all of the ecstasy.

“So close…” You breathed out, the knot snapping any second.

Then suddenly, the feeling stopped, completely gone.

You opened your eyes, Matt’s looking at you with a devious expression as he untied the lace from his shorts, the bulge of his dick very visible even though you are in an almost dark place. “What?” He asked, his head tilting to the side, a low chuckle as he spoke, “Wanted to finish?” You nodded, the desperation clear.

“Why would I let you finish if we haven’t even started? Hm?” He crawled back to be face to face with you, you felt his tip grazing your folds unintentionally, “Spread those legs wider for me, m’kay?” He said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

The desperation and adrenaline fuels your body, your legs spread wider enough to give him space between you, he positioned his tip in your entrance, edging you out even more until you had to practically beg to him. “Matt, please—“ you huff out at the undying desperation that your body was craving.

“Aw, look who’s getting frustrated now…” He coos, his left hand pumping his dick slightly before he slammed into you without warning, his movements frantic and hard, your head hitting the door slightly each time he pounded back inside you.

Your hands flew back to his biceps, gripping onto them for dear life as erratic moans emitted out of your mouth, his pace was nowhere close to being steady, it was sloppier as if he was already on the verge of getting on his own high too.

The tip of his cock was hitting that sweet spot of yours perfectly, making you salivate due to the incredible amount of intoxicating pleasure you were given in twenty minutes. Your mind felt fuzzy, this kind of pleasure was something that you’d stopped experiencing a long ago, your eyes crossing and shutting as you felt that sweet sensation of being closer, Matt abusing that spot deep inside you over and over again.

You couldn't even remember the last time sex felt this good, and never in a million years, you would’ve thought that your best friend would be the one to achieve that with you. Your thoughts stopped as soon as you felt his thumb on your tongue, indicating for you to suck it which you didn’t hesitate to be asked twice.

Your tongue swirled all over his thumb like a lollipop, getting it all wet as you felt the grunts and whines from Matt, the grip his other hand had on your hip getting tighter within two minutes. His pace not slowing down but getting ten times faster than it already was, the car shaking and your hands gripping the door to hold onto dear life.

Pornographic moans emitted out of your mouth as you felt that tight knot forming once again and getting closer and closer to snapping ferociously, your hand gripping tightly onto the seat as your eyes closed.

Matt’s placed his hand to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him. “All that teasing to get dumb fucked by me?” He said, his voice losing power from time to time.

snap.

Your juices spurt all over the seat and coated Matt’s dick in a thin, sheer coat of hot cum. Moans emitted out of your mouth as your grip on the headrests of the car loosened up due to the lack of strength that your body was capable of holding up. Your legs are all wobbly and your muscles are sore from all the containment that they did.

At this point your mind was fuzzy, too dumb fucked to acknowledge that the well-known knot snapped already, your body too weak to keep upholding Matt’s pace as he kept pumping in and out constantly.

Not too long after, Matt came to his release too. Your juices and his combined deep inside you, he pulled out of you as he admired the conjoined trail of juices coating his shaft. His left hand immediately went deep inside you, making sure his hot seed was ‘secured’. He pulled his fingers out, a popping sound as he did so, and cleaned them off easily, admiring the rest of your body, a gleam on his eyes reflecting the lustful expression of being satisfied enough.

He pulled you close to his body, sitting you straight up as you both recovered, Matt trailing kisses all over your face and repeatedly saying “M’ love you” as he caressed your hair with ease.

Both of your chests were going up and down irregularly, trying to stabilize each other’s breathing back to normality.

Matt’s eyes shifted around the car, taking a look at the foggy windows, a sly smile smearing all over his face as he traced with one of his fingers the foggy window in front of both of you, tracing the words.

‘We just fucked :)’

You finished reading what he traced on the window and chuckled weakly as Matt looked proudly at his ‘work of art’.

౨ৎ

a/n: tysm for 600 followers, wtf I can’t believe we’re already 600 (Nick fic coming real soon as a 600 followers special). It’s funny how I can easily write shit about Chris or Nick but when it comes to Matt, this mf is the hardest person to ever write off 😭 love y’all

tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwho @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!