#Why don’t any of the pharmacies seem to know about this????

[zmaragdos]

MY FUCKING ASTHMA MEDICATION WAS DISCONTINUED DUE TO CORPORATE GREED!!!!!! I HATE YOU PHARMACEUTICAL INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX!!!!!!!!! >>>>:((((

[eunuchve]

tags: mdni, smut, dragon!morax, MONSTERFUCKING, rut/mating cycles, predator/prey, double dragon cocks, double penetration, CERVIX FUCKING, size kink, mentioning pregnancy, mating, bro has a worship kink, breeding kink hints (he's in a rut dont hold it against him) a.n: (what have i done) this is the first porn with plot I've written and I gotta say; it is damn long.... happy valentines my dears, enjoy! pairings: zhongli x afab!reader

Lord Morax is a god; but he is more than that, he is an adeptus. illuminated beast. this fact needs no introduction, everyone knows. 

so when he took leave to a remote part of liyue somewhere, unknown to even his retainers, no one dared to bat an eye. the rain has fallen heavy, the season has become damp, and the scheduled time is near; Rex Lapis will have his rut.

it didn't take long for people to figure out the reasons for his absence; not when the lord became increasingly unfocused during stately meetings a week prior or when his eyes would turn to slits with a whiff of a woman's perfume for a month’s time.

You, the lone herb picker of a local pharmacy, didn't know any better when you stumbled upon a large hollowed-out cave that wasn't supposed to be there. you are familiar with the terrains, hell, you know it like the back of your hand -- so imagine your surprise when you find a nesting dragon inside, heaving, grunting alone; its horns glowing with a bright amber before its head snapped to your directly, eyes instantly turning to slits.

at first, you stumble backwards, watching as the figure slowly but surely towers over your frame; your neck cranes to meet its molten bronze eyes. it didn't take you long to realise whose privacy you had so ungraciously barged into; your mouth dries and you dropped your basket full of violetgrass, your heart beating out of your chest before your feet finally got some sense and took running to the woods. 

'fuck fuck fuck.'

you are going to die- you are so sure you are going to die. when your feet stumble and trip over branches and air, when you can hear him gliding through the sky; undoubtedly searching for you. The sounds of his scaled body burst through the leaves of the ginkgo trees, or of his deep, rough growls that echo through the forest. With every heavy step you take, you can feel him getting closer and closer. The thrill and fear mix inside of you, your body stirs with blood coursing through you. Weirdly amid the fear you feel-- somehow excitement came into the mix; something about your life being in the mercy of a chase?

Why is he there again? Rut? So will he fuck you or will he kill you? You certainly prefer one to the other. 

Your legs continue to run, even as you trip and fall, or when you stumble upon a rock or two; searching for an exit to a nearby village or open path; but no matter how far you run you can't seem to find the correct way. Your eyes scanned all directions before your body was suddenly pinned down under a sudden force and unmoving weight.

The paws of a creature so large that it covers your entire back, its talons digging into your back. The smell of freshly dug earth and exotic spices violates your nostrils and your heart can't help but thump against your chest just a little faster. You turned your neck, finding the dragon’s face mere inches from yours; his hot breath grazing the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Please don’t kill me.” god your voice sounds so desperate; with a hint of a broken whimper- even you are embarrassed by that fact. but your god didn't seem disturbed, instead he let out a low grunt, before hissing back a reply.

"don't beg."

"...huh?"

"don't." he spat the word, seeming holding something back. "beg."

"b-but--"

he didn't let you finish, picking you up by the scruff of your neck before throwing you to his back. he flew you back somewhere, you didn't care to notice since most of the flight back you are scrambling for something to hold on to; whether it is the golden spines or his actual body.

by the time you both arrive at the entrance of the familiar cave, he has waited for you to get off his back. you inclined, of course, shakily getting a feel of the ground below, catching your breath whilst adrenaline courses through you. once you get a feel yourself, your eyes travel to him, catching his large form walking slowly to the back of the cave.

"you won't kill me?" you find yourself asking; his head then slowly turns to you before, a visible look of confusion etched on it.

"Why would I?" his deep rough voice replies. he is definitely holding something back, the way his lips parted a bit to let steam out of his mouth, the sharp teeth that are visible from them make you gulp the pooling saliva in your mouth.

"Because... cave..."

weak reasoning, you'd have to admit, but if he won't kill you then you'd have to be sure of the other possibility. "then would you fuck me?"

the look on his face deepened before his head hung low, and a soft whisper came to you for a reply. "what makes you think of that?"

"It's your- Rex Lapis it's your time of..."

embarrassed, incredibly embarrassed; that's the feeling you felt, with the heat of blood rushing to your cheek and thumping heart against your chest only enforcing the fact.

"it is time for my rut, yes," he confirmed, his gaze thrown to the floor, avoiding your figure, "but I am not one with lost senses; sleep, it is night, it will be safer to leave in the morning."

you nod weakly, shuffling your way to the walls and plopping down on the dirt before curling up. the heat in your cheeks refuses to prevail as you watch him walk back, his long tail moves with each step he takes, the tuff at the end resembling that of golden clouds.

"My lord why are you moving so far away?" you asked, instantly biting your lip the moment that question escaped your mind, realising how desperate you sounded with that pretence.

"your arousal," he states matter of factly. "you. I can smell it."

you look at him wide-eyed, your face now comparable in its heat to the sun, your lips agape.

"it's safer for you this way," he continues.

"do you not want to?" archons you are greedy aren't you. "your rut- I can.. help..."

"I doubt it." his voice is precise, he says it like it's a fact, not even letting you have a space to express your desire. "they are the size of your thigh and their length..."

"I can try." bold- now you are being too bold. the size of your thigh he said? now you can feel your ears getting heated up from the shame. your thigh now pressed together as you imagine him inside of you; a second pass and your arms no longer placed nicely on your lap, instead instinctively protecting your chest.

his gaze looms over you, his snout now only a hairsbreadth away from your neck; a long deep breath he takes is audible before he groans out a reply.

"Do not test me human," something inside of him is threatening undone, you know it, "I will breed you till your womb is full and your consciousness lost-- if that is not what you desire then stay quiet and sleep; I shall bring you the village in the morning but until then speak not of this."

you gulp, now your lips parted before you crane your neck and place a shaky kiss on his scaled cheek, the heat of his body contrasting the cold of your flesh. "... that is what I desire--"

with that your clothes are torn apart; the valuable silk you spend months of your wage on is gone and your naked skin is exposed. the cold air hardened your nipples and he took notice, his head travelling down, his long forked tongue lapping sweetly onto them, earning your strangle out a moan.

"getting aroused from a chase," he breathes out, almost teasing you; hot breath contrasts that of the cooling saliva on your perked buds, sending vibrations down your spine. "thinking you can take a dragon's cocks, wanting to be the mother of my offsprings -- what bold actions you possessed."

you let out a whine, his tongue now travelling down, ever so subtly closing down to your cunt. you pressed your thighs together; embarrassed, already feeling your arousal seeping out of you before his claws forced them wide open, earning your moan.

"you are pooling my dear," he almost chuckled, his eyes narrowed as he licked his lips, his breath now grazing your quivering folds, unexpected whimper broken out of you.

"please?"

with that word you can feel the air snap hotter, his eyes now meeting yours; his form towering over you before he chuckle, training down kisses, his tongue now making sure you are covered in his scent.

"didn't I tell you not to beg?" his claws hold your thigh open and he took a lap of your cunt, almost smiling at your taste. "do you know why my dear?"

"n-no--"

your moans escape, feeling his tongue entering you, fucking you, stimulating your walls, not letting you escape. you arched your back, biting your lips as another whimper persisted. you feel his hand moving, now pressing his claws to your other hole, expecting you to open up; and you let him, your holes now stuffed full of him before you feel his tongue slip out of you, your whine tells him as much about what you want.

"Because if you beg..." he now moves his hands to your ankles, folding you in half and you watch helplessly, his two golden cocks decorated with geometric lines and veins on either side, one on top of the other- he does not lie, the size of those things are comparable to your thigh, its length will most likely penetrate your womb- "I will answer."

he chuckles subtly, aligning his cocks to both of your holes, its weight now pressing down on you, precum leaks out of them, lubricating you further.

"i am a god, my dear; I always answer."

with that he presses his cock head to your holes, hoping both of them will ease up. you moan his title out, causing him to snap his head to you, making him greedy.

Your little groan and hiss only help you muster up the strength to let loose, feeling your holes easing up before they let his cockheads in, making your chest heave.

he grunts against your neck; and you feel his teeth subtly tracing your shoulder, little nips that satiate his hunger, burying his head in its crook.

"Celestia." the way you feel around the tip of his cock is incomparable; the dragon finds himself clenching down his jaw, controlling his urges to slam you down to its hilt. "you are made for me my dear."

he grabs a hold of your hips, and you feel him sliding you down. you let out a low moan, your back still arched as you feel him inside of you more and more. the burn from the stretch doesn't scare you, even if you feel like you are being split in two- you only know the pleasure that waits for you not so out of reach.

not even halfway and you already feel him brushing against your cervix, your broken moan coupled with the way you rolled your hips almost makes him snap. his other cock too now deep inside of you- almost too deep; you feel the pressure against your throat, feeling his cocks twitch, almost making you jolt, your hand searching from his arm, nails now digging into his scales.

he looks at you, his parted lips letting out steam before his uneven breathing stops to let him speak. "I shall move now."

you look at him, biting your lips and nod firmly, affirming your readiness. you feel him trying to go out of you, your cunt and hole tightening around him, almost hungry before he slams into you, earning your cry of pleasure.

it persists; he goes out of you before he slips inside, messaging your walls before they tightened around him again, hungrily seeking him, your face now fucked out with pleasure, feeling him abuse your holes.

"I'm not even all the way in my dear." he almost smirks, you can see it. before you know it, you suddenly feel him picking you up, your walls being freed from his cocks, suddenly empty and you whine; letting him flip you to your stomach and holding your ass up in the air.

he marvels at the sight, seeing both of your holes gape yet clench down on nothing, it almost made him giddy.

"my beautiful follower," he mused, his claws now digging into your flesh before you feel his cocks lining up with your holes again; embarrassingly you can feel your cunt relaxing, ready to take him in once more. "will you be my mate now darling?"

"yes!" your desperation stays, you want him inside you so bad, "please Rex Lapis please!"

you didn't know what did, but you certainly awaken something in him. he brings you up in the air before slamming you down on his cocks, your walls now taking him fully, your stomach bulging out with his shape. your breath knocks out of you; you can feel him all the way in your womb, your hand can't help but trace the raised flesh, your spine almost shivering from the sensation.

"keep begging."

that sounds like an order; even your now fucked out brain knows that. so like the good follower you are you follow that order.

"Please make me your mate," you choke out, his slow rhythms that know your breath slowly but surely going faster, brushing up against all your pleasure spots, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. "please please please please I wanna- I want--"

he chuckles, the way you mewl your pleas, the way your warm flesh tightens around him; he can even feel your walls hungrily sucking him in so nicely. in his mind he is thanking Celestia; because fuck, you are a masterpiece.

"a human could die from this," he grunts out, going in and out of you with an inhuman pace, your cunt and hole loosening with his movements. "not you my dear; you are made for me."

you whine from his statement, the bludge he created only drives you to the edge, feeling something inside of you tightening, your nails digging into his scaled flesh, your face supported by his nose. "R-rex Lapis i- my-- i'm--"

"you want to cum my dear?" he almost teases you with the question, his cock brushing, bullying your g spot, making you dig your nails further, your head could only nod desperately at his question. "hold it, you could only cum when I do."

you whine out with his order, and he lets out a subtle groaning with it, chuckling at your reaction. his hand moves down, large talons brushing against your hard clit, teasing the nub; knowing exactly what it will make you do.

you wrapped your arm around his neck, his golden mane brushing against your flesh so softly; and your tug your face on them, muffling out your long moan and desperate cries.

"fuck- please lord mo- morax- r-rex lapis please- i want- i wanna- please please please-"

he kept his word, his face moving and kissing your neck, feeling you move your pelvis to fit him better, your inside hungrily brushing against his shaft. his brow knits, he feels himself almost coming undone.

"now."

with a final thrust, he fills both of your holes with white ropes of cum, you yourself arching your back, feeling your orgasm hits you harder than ever before. he hear your pants before he coils around you, closing gaps between the two of your while still being inside of you, wrapped up by your own warmth.

"i shall make the wedding preparation after the season's over," he breath out; your mind finally able to join the sentence together before you move your head, repeating the most important word again.

"wedding..."

"of course my dear," he kisses you, his snout pressed against your jaw before he tugs his head onto your collar bone. his hand travels to your stomach, rubbing the visible buldge that only grows with his cum, almost making look pregnant.

"the little ones will be coming soon."

[gor3sigil]

I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Oh

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

[headkiss]

hello! a summer request for my sweet hotch, maybe him taking care of reader's allergies or a cute picnic date (jack included)

hope you have a lovely day sweetheart 🩷

hiii tysm for your request!! hope you’re having a lovely day too angel 🫶 so sorry it’s not summer anymore but hopefully you still enjoy! | 0.8k words of fluff!!

Aaron is not known to take many days off, but summer seems to get him out of the office more than any other season. Even more so ever since he met you.

More again as soon as he introduced you to Jack, to the most important person in his life. Jack liked you immediately, and he never stops asking when he’ll see you next. Though there’s a void left behind by Haley that will never quite be filled, you all know it, but your presence in both of the Hotchner’s lives has brightened them in ways Aaron doesn’t think you could understand.

It’s why, today, he’s taken the day off on purpose. He’d even gone as far as to tell the team not to call him unless absolutely necessary. He trusts them, and they bug him to take breaks more than anyone, anyways.

There’s a classic red and white gingham blanket spread beneath you on the grass, the sun bright in the sky and saturating the park around you.

Aaron’s barely unpacked the snacks before Jack is jumping up and asking his dad for permission to go play.

“Only where I can see you,” Hotch says, “okay, buddy?”

“I know, dad!” Jack’s already running off before you can even tell him to have fun.

Aaron watches his son go, squinting in the sun, keeping an eye on Jack until he’s made it to a small group of other kids by the slide before turning back to you.

You’re scrunching your nose and rubbing at your eyes when he does, and Aaron frowns a little when you sniffle.

Always far too observant, he tilts his head at you and asks, “You okay, honey?”

You nod, because you really are.

You’ve had allergies for most of your life, you think, so it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just annoying. You’d woken up and could already tell it was a bad day for them, less air passing through your nose, your eyes itchy.

But days like these—the ones with Aaron and Jack and beautiful weather and nobody working—are rare, and you’d never be caught giving up time with your people just because of some allergies.

“I’m fine, just my allergies.” You smile at him and grab a nacho from the spread, dipping it into the layered salsa from the grocery store and popping it into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were acting up?” Hotch asks, thumb wiping a bit of salsa from the corner of your mouth gently without a thought. Sweet and subconscious.

“Because you would’ve made me stay in bed and bring me soup like it was the flu,” you say, knee bumping his. “I’m out of meds, but I didn’t wanna miss this. Jack was so excited and I was, too. I love being with you guys.”

And fuck, Aaron’s heart squeezes in his chest at the way you speak so fondly about him and Jack, like they’re your own family. At how you’re willing to be uncomfortable just to keep plans intact.

He trails a knuckle down your bare arm, all the way down until he catches your hand and gives it a squeeze. “We don’t have to stay long.”

“I know,” you scoot closer and drop your head against his shoulder.

It’s only twenty minutes later, and after many sneezes (and ‘bless you’s from Aaron), he’s packing up the picnic and not letting you argue it. Your eyes are reddened and watery, and he can hear how stuffy your nose is by your voice, and he doesn’t want you to feel worse.

And maybe he likes the idea of getting to take care of you over something small like this. How domestic it is.

“Alright, let’s go home, yeah?” Aaron pats your thigh softly. “I know you wanted to tough it out, but i can tell it’s bugging you. There’s a pharmacy down the street, we’ll stop for meds.”

There’s no sense fighting him when your allergies are bugging you, when he’s so stubborn with his plans, with how kind the tone of his voice is.

“Okay. Maybe we can watch a movie when we get back? Jack can pick since we’re making him leave early.”

“You sure?” Aaron raises his eyebrows. “He’s gonna make us watch Big Hero 6 for the hundredth time, you know?”

“I know that you secretly love that movie.”

“That wore off at the tenth watch, honey.”

You laugh, then sneeze, and Aaron shakes his head at you fondly before calling Jack back over and promising to buy him a candy bar at the pharmacy for cutting his game short.

The candy bar is long gone by the time you’re all settled on the Hotchner’s couch to watch Big Hero 6 again, and you and Aaron share a secret smile when Jack announces it as his pick.

[ikkyfics]

Hair Bleach

Pietro Maximoff x f!reader

Summary: He was sitting on the kitchen counter, his long legs stretched out and his messy brown hair already partially covered by the bleach you were carefully applying. “Do you think it’ll look good?” he asked, his voice low and slightly rough, but carrying a playful tone that was so characteristic of him. “You’ve done this before, remember? It wasn’t exactly a disaster,” you replied, trying to focus as you spread the cream through his hair.

Warnings: fluffy, modern!au

Masterlist

Maybe it was the drink you both had earlier – that cheap wine Steve insisted on serving – or maybe it was just the laid-back atmosphere of the party, with Wanda’s laughter echoing through the room and the music that seemed like it would never stop. You weren’t exactly sure what had made you comment on his hair. Maybe it was a flash of memory, a detail lost in time.

“Do you remember when your hair was bleached?” you had asked, both still a little dizzy as you walked down the empty street, heading home.

He laughed, his voice rough and a little drawn out, clearly carrying the influence of the drinks. “Remember? Hard to forget. You loved messing with it.”

“I really did,” you admitted, feeling your face heat up. It was true, after all. Pietro with bleached hair had been almost a comical version of himself – always complaining about the upkeep, but knowing how much you liked it.

“Then why don’t we do it again?” he suggested, that carefree sparkle in his eyes that was so typical of him.

“Now?” you asked, laughing.

“Now,” he confirmed, with an unexpected determination.

And before you could protest, you were standing in front of a 24-hour pharmacy, arguing over which bleach brand would be best while laughing like two teenagers.

Now, in your apartment, the wine had given way to a comfortable sobriety. The apartment still smelled like the party, as if the echoes of the night you’d spent together refused to completely disappear. Dim lights filtered through the blinds, creating an almost theatrical contrast between the dark and the light. You were still in your party dress, a piece of fabric that seemed made for Pietro to look at you like that – his blue eyes sparkling, intense and sweet, as if the thought of looking away was unthinkable.

He was sitting on the kitchen counter, his long legs stretched out and his messy brown hair already partially covered by the bleach you were carefully applying. The black t-shirt was a little askew, revealing the outline of muscles you knew by heart, but that still made you blush as if it were the first time you saw them.

“Do you think it’ll look good?” he asked, his voice low and slightly rough, but carrying a playful tone that was so characteristic of him.

“You’ve done this before, remember? It wasn’t exactly a disaster,” you replied, trying to focus as you spread the cream through his hair.

He smiled, that grin that was a mix of mischief and tenderness, before tilting his head back, looking at you closely. “It wasn’t a disaster because you said it looked good. Everything you say looks good, I believe.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile that slipped out was inevitable. Pietro had that effect on you – an almost magical ability to turn the simplest moment into something that felt extraordinary.

“Stop moving your head,” you murmured, gently pushing his face into the right position.

“Hard to do. You’re here, looking gorgeous like this, talking to me as if I don’t want to kiss you every five seconds.”

“You’re already distracting me,” you shot back, but he didn’t seem in the least bit sorry.

“It’s part of my charm,” he replied before sliding one of his large hands to your waist. The touch was warm, firm, as if he needed to feel your presence there, just to make sure this was real.

“Pietro,” you complained quietly, but your voice lacked any strength. Not when his fingers were mindlessly tracing little circles against the fabric of your dress.

“Just one kiss,” he asked, leaning forward, his short beard brushing your cheek before he reached your lips with his.

It was a lazy kiss, but full of meaning. He had always been like that with you, direct in his feelings, with no room for doubt.

When he finally pulled away, you sighed, but the laughter that slipped out afterward was involuntary. “If I mess up, it’s because you can’t stay still. It’ll be your fault.”

“Then I’ll have to live with a permanently stained head,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I bet you’d still think I’m cute.”

“Maybe,” you teased, turning your attention back to his hair.

Your fingers slid carefully through the brown strands, now covered by the white bleach cream. The chemical smell filled the air, but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the sweetness that seemed to emanate from the moment. Pietro closed his eyes slowly, as if savoring a luxurious experience and not something as mundane as getting his hair bleached in the kitchen of your apartment. For the first time that night, he was quiet, allowing you to work in peace – at least in terms of words.

His hands, however, weren’t so easily quieted. One rested on your waist, the fingers unaware of the thin fabric of the dress you were still wearing, while the other moved up to your thigh, resting there with familiarity and a touch of affection. He wasn’t exactly distracting you, but he didn’t seem willing to let you forget he was there, that he needed to touch you – as if you might disappear if he wasn’t sure you were real.

The warmth of his touch was something you could feel even through the fabric, a constant reminder that he was near, that he was yours. And as much as you tried to focus on his hair, the bleach, the time it needed to work, it was impossible not to be affected.

“If this keeps up, I’m going to mess up,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

His lips curved into a lazy smile, his eyes still closed. “Doesn’t seem like I’m the one distracting you right now,” he replied, but didn’t move, just enjoying the feel of your fingers massaging his scalp.

The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the soft sound of his breathing and the sensation of his hair under your fingers. For a moment, you lost yourself, the movements becoming slower and more careful. It was almost hypnotic – the texture of the strands, the warmth radiating from his skin, the way he seemed so absorbed in the touch, as if nothing else mattered.

And then you looked at him.

His face was relaxed, dark lashes contrasting against his pale skin, the stubble outlining the curve of his jaw. His chest rose and fell in a tranquil rhythm, as if he were on the verge of a light sleep, but the smile on his lips was still there, a small curve that seemed impossible to erase.

It was inevitable. You leaned in before you even realized what you were doing, your lips touching his in a gesture as natural as breathing. Pietro responded immediately, as if he had been waiting for this, his hands gently gripping your waist and thigh, pulling you closer.

The kiss started sweetly but quickly turned into something more. It wasn’t urgent, but it had an intensity that made your knees almost buckle. When you tried to pull away, his hands wouldn’t let you, holding you in place as if he wasn’t done yet.

“Wait,” you tried to protest against his lips, but the word came out muffled, without conviction.

It wasn’t until you felt something wet trickling down the side of your face that reality hit hard. “Pietro!” you exclaimed, laughing as you pulled away.

He opened his eyes, confused, but the smile quickly returned when he saw the white stain on the side of your hair and a bit on your forehead. “Well, looks like you’re going to bleach with me.”

You stared at him, open-mouthed. “I told you this would happen! Now my hair’s going to be stained, and it’s all your fault.”

He shrugged, not a hint of regret. “You’re still beautiful. Maybe we should bleach it all at once.”

“No way,” you replied, trying to wipe the cream off your forehead with the back of your hand, only to spread it even more.

Pietro laughed, that warm, contagious laugh that made your heart race. He grabbed a piece of paper towel and leaned forward, wiping the stain off with a care that was completely at odds with the laughter shaking his shoulders. But then he held your face, giving you a look full of affection. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “I know, Pietro.”

His fingers ran along your cheek. “I want you to know. Really. I don’t care about the hair, or what we do. I just want to make you happy.”

Your heart tightened, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to disappear. “You already do,” you said, your voice softer than you intended, but full of sincerity.

He smiled, that small, genuine smile that was all his. “Good. Because you’re everything to me.”

You felt the words like a hug, warm and full of meaning. He had always been like that – direct, no nonsense, but full of feeling.

“Now stop distracting me,” you said, trying to refocus, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide.

“No chance,” he replied, leaning in to steal a kiss before you could protest.

[m1d-45]

doctor's orders

summary: a mild cold in the hands of one used to life or death illnesses... he really worries too much.

word count: 1k

-> warnings: you're like.. very mildly sick.. +take one (1) pill for like .5 of one second. nothin serious

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“i don’t know why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“i don’t kow why you aren’t.”

you sniffle again, wiping at your nose with a napkin he’d insisted you take. “it’s not like i’ll die, baizhu.”

“dont joke about that.” he sat at his desk, counting qingxin petals as he plucked them off. “you’ll be perfectly fine, so long as you take your medicine.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, to push off his worry and deny the pills. yes, you were sick, but with barely a cold—more an annoyance than anything—that you didn’t think was worth even half the trouble.

but if nothing else, this was for his benefit. part of the curse of being a doctor, you supposed: knowing even the most severe of illnesses started with a cough. or, in your case, congestion.

“and you’re certain that’s it? no aches or pains?”

for his sake, you checked again. nothing out of the ordinary, just as it was five minutes ago, the last time he asked you.

“i’m fine, just as i have been and just as i will be. even if i wanted to hide something, you’d be able to tell.”

he’d known you were sick before you did. you went out with qiqi yesterday, returning to the pharmacy with a basket propped on your waist. you exchanged your greetings with gui, lingering to watch qiqi set herself up in her chair, carefully prying seeds out of lotus heads. you were sat beside her sorting the horsetail from the violet grass when he came out of the back door, eyes lingering on you strangely.

“are you feeling well?”

you looked up, hands stalling. “yeah, i feel fine. why, is something wrong?”

gui smiled like he knew something you didn’t, but you didn’t focus on that. baizhu came to you, taking your hands in his, inspecting your palms like you’d miraculously developed an allergy to horsetail overnight. “…are you sure?”

“positive.”

“no new aches, not unusually hot or short of breath, nothing stiff or-”

“baizhu.” you turned your hands to hold his instead, his gloves cool under your fingers. “i’m fine. you worry too much.”

but, of course, your karma swung around and you woke up with a headache and a pressure in your sinus. the light off the stone paths felt too bright, your predicament obvious from the moment you opened your mouth to say hello. just like that, you’d been whisked away to a back room, changsheng curling around your shoulders as he tried to find any and every reason to worry.

it was cute. or, would have been, if you didn’t know he was worried beneath the fuss. if you didn’t know any better, it would seem like he was finding any and all excuses to touch you. a loose grip on your wrist to check if your heart was irregular, the back of his hand against your cheek to see if you had a fever, worrying and worrying like you weren’t stuck with the common cold and he wasn’t the best doctor this side of inazuma.

“you worry too much.”

“you worry too little. drink your tea.”

you did, bearing the bitter taste as changsheng slipped from your shoulders to his. honestly, with the way he was treating you, one could easily think you were at death’s door.

you weren’t, though. you traced the rim of the ceramic mug, watching him fuss with your medicine, carefully crushing and mixing a variety of strong-smelling ingredients you couldn’t hope to identify off sight alone, characteristics lost in the mortar and pestle.

“so,” you start, his eyes flicking to you but not losing focus. “you come here often?”

he rolled his eyes, adding an ambiguously labeled syrup. whatever shorthand he and gui had mastered was a mystery to you no matter how hard you tried to decipher it. “this is serious.”

“it’s the flu.”

“you don’t know that.”

“you’re biased.”

“and you’re not getting out of taking your medicine. have you finished your tea?”

he took the empty mug, checking the stray leaves at the bottom like they would give him whatever answers he was looking for. it’s not like you’d lied to him—not like you could, either. between he and changsheng, it was impossible to so much as bring him flowers.

with the help of a few bits of hyperspecific equipment (that looked far too dangerous to just be for a doctor), a single pill was tucked into your palm, a muted green sphere with flecks of white dispersed across its surface. another cup of medicinal tea was poured and drank, a bitter aftertaste left in your mouth as expected. but you were rewarded for your troubles with a quiet sigh of relief, all of his nerves apparently washing away with that single action. he pushed his glasses up on his nose, eyes softening from ‘stern doctor’ to ‘worried partner.’

“…and you’re certain-”

“i’m fine.” you downed the rest of the tea, lip curling at the taste as you set it down, not missing how he checked to see if you’d drank it all. “i’m not in pain. i’m not hurt. i’ve taken my medicine and you have personally seen me do it. please, relax.”

another sigh, this one tired and well-worn. “you know i can’t. it’s not that easy.”

“it was worth a shot,” you shrug.

he does all of the work that he can in your room that day, strictly confining you to the bed, but letting you sit with him in the lobby once noon passes and there’s less people bustling through. you politely ignore the subtle glow to his fingertips whenever he walks by you, just like you pretend not to notice his repeated, worried glances.

it was almost sweet, that he worried so much. and besides, who were you to tell him what to do with his time? a day spent with your doctor was a day well worth every second.

[yourabsolutemother]

At Sundown

Chapter 2 here

poly task force 141

A/N: I’m not good at narrative writing. Give me a book and I'll write a 12 page essay in two days on it. But narrative? I'm screwed. So a little constructive criticism is welcome. Also I’m using a translator app for their accents, I’m so sorry if they’re stupid hahahah

CW: Military inaccuracy, accent inaccuracy, possible lore inaccuracy, typical a/b/o sexism and classism, cursing, slightly suggestive, reader almost has a panic attack, crying, Price is upset and gets a little mean, Simon is just his mean self, slight mention of PTSD

Chapter overview: Reader has a stressful day at her job and her beta roommate does little to help. Price’s instincts are going haywire and the pack can’t figure out why.

=====

It’s the end of your shift, you work as a waitress at a bar and grill that is near your house. You mostly work during the rushes, when the small restaurant is packed with a line out the door. The restaurant you work at is open until 4 am all week, that's when they kick people out so they can clean up after a long day and get ready for the lunch rush. It’s not the best food around, but the bartender is good and it is a popular spot for business meetings. The place is dirty, but for some reason, the patrons don’t seem to care. If they don’t care, you don’t care. You’re just here to make money to survive.

They don’t exactly like you here, mostly because you are an omega. No one here really talks to you, except sometimes the beta host, but he didn't want people to think less of him by seeing him talking to the only omega in the building. You wish you could get a better paying job, but this was the only thing that paid above five dollars an hour in a 30 minute radius. This place didn’t even really want to hire you, but you begged them. It’s your last resort and you don't regret it one bit. It's hard to get over everyone saying things like. ‘No wonder this is the best job omegas can get. It's all they can handle’. No matter what you do or how hard you work, it's never good enough.

You bust your ass everyday that you work, which was most days, always kind and never showing up late. You have hardly used any of your sick days or vacation days. The only time you call out is when you’re in heat, and no one works when they’re in heat or in rut. But every time you have to call out for that reason, you’re always met with groans and stupid questions like ‘can’t you just put it off for another week?’ As if you could control something that naturally happens.

You know how to do every job in the building, other than cooking, and you have worked in all of the stations at one point in the time that you have worked here. You’re certain that you did every station correctly and efficiently, but you still can’t get them to pay you more for everything that you do. You don’t know what else there is for you to do to make them like you, even a little bit.

You can’t complain much, you have it pretty good. One of your omega friends was telling you one day about how his work wouldn't let him take time off of work for his heat. They made him go to a pharmacy and buy heat suppressants with his own money so that he could work. And then they threatened to fire him if he didn’t continue to take them while he worked for them. He has a very privileged job and makes a lot of money, even if it's only at a restaurant, so he was basically forced to continue taking them.

You thank scent blockers every single day of your life, not knowing how you could manage without them and their seemingly magic effects. Sometimes you had the occasional table with the people who wouldn’t wear scent blockers, wanting to flaunt their status. You hate it, it makes it hard to do your job. The omegas and betas don’t affect you, it mostly just annoys you because of the smell lingering around you and the table for the next few hours. It made people complain to you like there is anything that you can do about the smell. You can’t really use scent blocker on a scent that's already in the air. But what would you know, you’re just an omega afterall.

But, when alphas came in, it was a whole other story. Their scent was always so strong, leaving no room for question or confusion. Their scent would stick around you, the tables, their menus, and really anything they touched for the rest of the day. You can’t blame any of them though, scent blockers burn your nose which is why you never wear them.

It’s easy to tell when you are doing good and when you aren’t. The alphas scent would make your legs weak if they were pleased, if you weren't so scared of them. But if they were upset about something, it was like a punch right to the gut. You always step up your game when you smell their scent souring, acting purely out of a panic response, but sometimes it wasn’t in your hands and there was nothing you could do about it. That didn’t stop you from trying your best, nonetheless.

Right now, you are carrying a tray of hot food across the dining room, eyes not focusing on any of the tables just in case there was an alpha sitting at them. You hate having to look at alphas, only doing it when you have to, like when you are serving their table. Their gaze was always so intense, making your head swim as it tried to decipher why they were looking at you. You aren’t as good as most omegas at reading alphas, some say you’re too naive and will figure it out once an alpha forces you to figure it out. That’s exactly why you avoid them, if you aren’t around them, then you don’t have to worry about reading them and them getting upset because you can’t. If you ever ended up with an alpha, you promised yourself not to fall for one that would treat you as second class. You didn’t want an alpha that thinks an omega is only good if their instincts are good.

Making it to the table without too much trouble, the smell of two sour alphas enters your nose. You hold back an instinctual whine, nervousness filling your chest as you set their food down in front of them. “I’m very sorry for the wait, the kitchen is backed up.” You explain, smiling to try and relieve some of the tension. On the inside, you are panicking, playing out scenarios of what could happen in your head. You can only hope they are accepting of your situation. You waited with shaky hands and bated breath.

The alpha on your left waves his hand dismissively at you, his hand almost hitting your arm as a scowl formed on his face. That action alone is enough to make your heart drop in your chest. “That's enough, omega.” He practically spits, his tone filled with venom. Your mind raced with possibilities, it made you wonder what you had done wrong other than their food taking a bit longer than normal. Of course they blamed you. It always ended up being your fault.

The alpha on your right tosses their collective trash at you, somehow you manage to catch most of the unexpected projectiles with your shaking hands. You bent over quickly, picking up the trash on the floor and placing it on the tray in your hand. “This is why no one hires omegas anymore.” The alpha spoke to the other, speaking like you weren’t standing right there. “Especially if it's a woman.” The other response, a stupid cheeky grin on his face.

You stand up straight, forcing a smile. “Is there anything else I can get you two?” You ask, watching as they both silently pull their wallets out, shoving their cards into your hand. You place them on the tray, holding back the urge to sock both of them in the eye. “Give yourself a nice dollar tip, Hun.” One purrs, intentionally putting you down. You’re an omega at the end of the day after all. You smile and bow your head slightly as a silent departure, turning on your heel and weaving through the crowd back to the kitchen.

“Thanks so much, alpha.” You practically growl under your breath, your hands starting to shake more now that they couldn't see you. “I’ll be able to buy that gumball I've been eyeing all day.” you continue quietly, sarcasm dripping from your voice as the doors to the kitchen come into view. They always say it like they believe that one whole dollar is going to get you anything. 

When you first started, you thought they were being kind and maybe were just down on their luck with money. But then you started paying attention to how much their bill actually was, most of them wouldn't have a hard time tipping at least three dollars. Most of the alphas that came into the restaurant ate a lot of food, they were big, strong men that needed a lot of calories to keep their physique. Their totals usually came out very large, a tip of three dollars wouldn't even be close to twenty percent.

You sigh in relief once you get back inside the kitchen, ignoring the kitchen staff on the other side of the window as they basically screamed at each other. Going over to the computer to start closing out their tabs, you feel a presence behind you. You immediately recognize the smell of the owner, who is staring down at what you were doing with a critical eye. His arms are crossed over your chest as he pushes his scent out to intimidate you. It works and you are practically trembling by the time he walks away, finally leaving you alone.

You continue to mutter annoyedly once he was out of earshot, closing out their checks and not bothering to give yourself that tip. You’d rather not get one then accept money from those pricks. You put their receipt in the holders and make your way back to the two grumbling alphas, probably complaining about how long it was taking you.

You force a fake smile on your face, trying to keep your souring scent low as you place their receipt in front of them. “Come back soon.” You wish them well. They just ignore you as they throw more trash at you and sign their checks. They stand up and head towards the bar in the middle of the restaurant, making a last minute decision to get a drink before they leave. You shove their small trash into the pockets of your apron and leave the rest for the busboy.

You get back to the kitchen shortly after, doing a few tasks you have to do before you leave. You couldn’t stop thinking about those two alphas, of course they had to come in right at the end of your shift and ruin the rest of your night. You walk over to the coat rack and grab your coat and purse, putting them on before clocking out. You walk out the back door and go to your car, trying to get out of there as quickly as possible before the alphas change their minds. The others can deal with it, you’ll deal with the fallout next time you work if they end up needing something else from you. Just another day in this hellhole of a job.

The parking lot is cold and dark, the ground wet from a recent thunderstorm. You aren’t paying much attention as you start to cross the street, not noticing the car coming right for you until the driver slams on its horn and zips right by you. You gasp out and hold tightly onto your coat as you watch the car speed out of the parking lot. They’re probably drunk. You didn’t sleep well last night because your new neighbor was up all night pacing in their room. You kept hearing people coming in to check on him, talking with gruff voices that you could hear muffled through the wall. Although, you could hardly hear what they were saying. You didn’t want to intrude on their privacy.

You are glad that it happened though, because you now realize that you can’t be as loud as you once used to be while in your room. That house has always been empty since you moved in not long ago, but on one ever came by or even visited so you assumed that it was just vacant for some reason. That was until you saw four big military men moving in, you assume they’re on leave for an unknown amount of time. Your room is the furthest down the hall from the stairs, a bathroom next to you separating you from your roommates room and an office across that ensured your solitude. You were used to being able to be on the louder side, no one was close enough to hear it. But now, your neighbors are and you have to be careful

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive home is quiet, only the sound of your car that is hardly running because you don’t make enough money to pay rent, buy food, and do literally anything else. Someone had stolen your radio, which you find odd because what is someone going to do with a beat up old car radio? Omegas were used to belonging to an alpha that took care of those needs so they never really needed money. Most jobs that omegas had were just so they had somewhere to be while their alpha was at work. But you are working for yourself, sometimes your roommates help you out, but you hate having to ask them. Omegas that didn't have a pack truly were lost, most benefit from being part of one. This being said, you didn’t have enough money to buy a new radio, so you sat in silence.

You are too afraid of alphas to even consider being part of a pack, only if there was no alpha. Packs with no alphas were a rare sight, hardly ever making it work in the long run. Alphas are natural born leaders, even if they are unsure of themselves, it’s their instinct to always do what they think is best. Sometimes, what they thought was necessary was cruel. Which is why you avoid them, they’re unpredictable and much more powerful than you.

Due to your status, alphas are able to control omegas in a sense. If they use their tone just right, it scratches something in omegas brains that almost forces them to listen. It's instinctual, there's nothing you can really do to stop it. But, if an omega is too scared of the alpha, too fearful for their own life, they can ignore the instinct. The instinct to stay alive is much stronger. Though, alphas hardly use their commanding tone, funnily enough because it strains their voices to do it.

It sounds like the gears in your car are grinding together, the sound becoming obnoxious as you drive. It always takes your car an abnormal amount of time to get going and it chugs up hills, not being able to catch the necessary gear to make it easily up them. You have to let your foot off the gas most of the time for it to be able to change gears, even though your car is an automatic. You gave up a long time ago trying to make your car smell nice, it always smelled like burning oil, meaning there was a leak somewhere. Probably an expensive one, wish is why you haven’t done anything about it.

There is not much you can do about it right now, you brought it to a mechanic and they gave you a quote that was astronomically out of budget. It was also probably a bit higher than it would be if you had been an alpha or a beta. Mechanics always give omegas a hard time because they’re easy to take advantage of. One time, you went to the mechanic with your roommate, who is a beta, and they charged her fifteen dollars less than they charged you for an oil change.

You can see your house from the entrance of your neighborhood, relief filling you as you get closer to your safe place. But as you pull into your driveway, the now familiar smell of alpha fills your nose, coming from the house attached next to yours. It was a mix of tobacco, patchouli, vanilla and mahogany. It makes your skin form tiny goosebumps all over your arms and legs. An odd mix of smells that somehow all complimented each other. But despite your body’s initial reaction, you can't help but feel panic rise in your body. There were two and it smelled like one of them was not in a good mood at all. It had been like this for a few days, you coming home to smelling angry alpha.

It hasn’t gotten easier in the days following them showing up, you are constantly scared out of your mind that you are going to end up meeting these scary smelling alphas. You wonder why they are constantly upset, you know they had at least one beta since you are able to smell him through your shared wall some nights. It only makes you more jittery with the uncertainty that you feel. You can tell that your scent is souring.

As you sit there in your car, trying to get your things together while moving pretty frantically, something catches your eye while you’re taking the key out of the ignition. Your eyes widen and the back of your neck tingles slightly as you see someone inside their car who was also, assumingly, coming home from work and about to get out of the car.

You’re frozen in place and all you can think about is what could happen, all the things that could happen to an omega when faced with an angry alpha. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears as panic filled your body. All you could smell were the two alphas, it felt like it was flooding every inch of your nose. You felt like you’d never be able to forget their scents. You can’t tell if the person in the car is someone you need to look out for or not, but you don’t want to stay long to figure it out.

It is a tall man you can tell, you can’t tell their status yet and you aren’t about to go up to him and ask. Your vision isn’t the best and you don’t have your glasses on, plus having to look through two windows. Actually getting a good look at him felt impossible. It looks like he has a mohawk, in his mid to late twenties. He looks like a rough guy, a five o’clock shadow covering his face. His muscles stretch in his shirt because of the angle he's sitting at. He seems distracted by a laptop he has in the car. You can’t help but wonder why he has a computer in his car like that.

You panic, looking away to gather the rest of your stuff quickly, you book it inside. The slam of your car door probably immediately gave away your location, but you can’t care less about that now that you’re close to the house. You already have your key out when you get to the door, quickly slotting in the key and twisting to unlock it. You push open the door, your breath quick, hoping that the man didn’t see you. Closing the door behind you, you scurry to set your stuff down, wanting to get as far away from the smell of alpha as you can get.

A sigh escapes you as you reach the safety of your home, relishing in the familiar scent of your two roommates. You take a deep breath as you try to rid your nose of the lingering angry alpha scent. You lock the door behind you and hang up your coat and purse, which you had thrown your keys in, making your way towards the living room where you can hear the tv going. There, one of your roommates, and long time friend, Jasmine sits watching some show you don’t care about. Her long body is splayed out on the couch seat as her arms rested on the back, facing away from you as you enter the room.

Today is one of her days off, so she is just relaxing. From what she tells you, her job is very stressful. She says that she has to deal with angry alphas all day who are constantly on the edge of fighting. Something about being a mediator of some kind. It makes you wonder how many times you coming up to the table has stopped a fight from breaking out. Or how many times the alphas weren’t actually mad at you, but at each other. Fights broke out all the time at the restaurant you worked in, nobody ever did anything after they were broken up, which is why a lot of business meetings are held there.

“Welcome home, Hun.” She calls out, looking over her shoulder to see you walking towards her with a relieved look on your face. “How was work? Smells like it wasn't too good.” She asks, the following words referring to the lingering smell of angry alpha coming from your clothing. The tone of her voice is soft, like she's trying not to break you. Her head and eyes follow you as you make your way around the couch, hands immediately reaching out when she smells how stressed you are. The beta instincts inside her head tell her to help calm you down.

You let out a sigh and sit down next to her, leaning your head on her shoulder, leaning into her comfortable embrace. You can smell her calming cinnamon scent, reminding you of the cinnamon rolls your mom used to make when you were younger. “Why does everyone blame me for the issues that the kitchen causes?” You ask rhetorically in a whine, trying to relax in her reassuring hold. You just want to be able to relax in the betas presence after a stressful day at work. It was almost like a ritual at this point. You come home stressed, she works her magic, and you go on about your day feeling a bit better than before. Tonight seems to be the exception.

 A laugh comes from Jasmine, making you whine in embarrassment despite her hand comfortingly playing with your hair. “Stop laughing..” You mutter, playing with the strings coming off a tiny rip in your black pants, smelling her scent getting stronger as she continues to try and calm you down “I’m sorry, puppy.” She says through lingering giggles, pushing her knee against yours to try and lighten the mood. “It's just that complaining about your waitressing job is such an omega thing to complain about.” She continues to laugh, her head falling back slightly and her hand in your hair stilling, making you pout. Her words felt like she only thought of you as an omega, not seeing the person below the status. Her scent does nothing to help your stressed mind, no matter how hard she tries to project it.

You stand up and let out a frustrated sigh, Jasmine's hold falling from you. Her eyebrows furrow slightly and you have to look away so you don’t feel bad for standing your ground. Jasmine was the only person you are comfortable enough with to do it. “You’re being mean,” You mumble, walking away to your room which resides upstairs. Jasmine turns her head to look over her shoulder at you as you walk away. “Aw, come on. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” She calls out, not receiving a response back to you. She lets out a slight groan, making a mental note to make it up to you later as she turns her attention back to her show.

Once you get upstairs, you walk down the hall towards your room while tears gather in your eyes. You just feel so stressed out and everything is so overwhelming, you just want to curl up in your bed. Just wanting to forget about how worthless you felt in a world that doesn’t appreciate omegas for the treasure that they are. You hope that you can keep your emotions under control until you are in your room.

You pass by Jasmine's room first which was obviously empty, then you pass your other roommates room. Their door was closed, you don’t bother asking them for help, they just moved in and you barely know them. You open your door and quietly shut it behind you, toeing your shoes off as you start to sniffle. You let out a few whimpers and shuffle your shoes with your foot off to the side and out of the way, starting to let the tears fall down your puffy cheeks.

You keep your crying down to whimpers and sniffles, occasionally letting out a sad whine. You remember hearing your neighbor last night, you don’t want them to hear you crying. Your room starts to really smell like sour oranges, like drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth. You took your shirt, pants, and shoes off, shuffling to bed and curling under the covers as you cry your stress away. Eventually your breathing evens out and you are reduced to sniffles as you slowly fall asleep. To be fair, you were still feeling the emotional side effects of your heat which ended three days ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnny sits in his car after having to go into a weekly training session, the superiors demanding they stay in peak physical condition even while they are on leave.  Their superiors make them alternate weeks doing it together and doing it alone. They say they want to make sure they can still handle themselves when they aren’t together. Dysfunctional packs aren’t welcome in their field of work, always being forcibly split even if they had been together before joining.

He’s filling out his activity sheet that they have to email to Price every week, so that he could send it to their superiors, when your sweet orange scent fills Johnny’s nose. He’d been smelling you since they arrived, through the wall of his bedroom unluckily. He thanks the gods that he isn’t an alpha and can control himself better. Your scent would have driven him crazy by now if he wasn’t a beta. There was a tinge to your scent, smelling like oranges that had been left in the car for too long. He glances over at you, seeing you quickly getting out of your car with a panicked look on your face. He watches as you slam your car door and book it inside, he can practically see the trail of dust that follows in your wake from how quickly you moved. He wonders why you were so stressed out.

He wishes he could have seen more of you, only being able to see a glimpse of your face before your hair fell in the way. You looked so small and fragile as you scurried away, Johnny felt his body tense at the sight of an omega in distress. He wishes for nothing more than to wrap his thick arms around you and wash his scent over you as you relax in his hold. But by the looks of how you ran away like that, it isn’t really an option. He wonders what's got you so worked up. His brain immediately went to the worst possible scenarios. The thought of you having an abusive alpha crosses his mind, making his chest tighten.

He knows that there are no alphas in the house attached to his, at least he’s never smelled one. He knew there was you, the omega, and there were two betas. He assumes you three are a growing pack since it was originally just the one beta and how there are two new additions. The three of you being roommates never crossed his mind, almost like his brain was keeping him from getting attached to you. He couldn’t have you if you already had a pack.

He wastes no time sending the sheet to John and gathering his things so he can head inside, he has little to no patience waiting for what's his. He eagerly gets out of the car and goes inside, he's excited to see his pack after a long training day. He pushes open the door and the first person he sees is Kyle, who is in the kitchen cooking up dinner.

He goes up behind the slightly shorter beta and wraps his arms around his torso, shoving his face into Kyle’s neck to breathe his coconut scent in deeply. It always made his mouth water, having to swallow a few times so he doesn't drool. Makes him crave a pina colada. Johnny feels his muscles relax as he watches Kyle cook, his chin and nose pressing against the crook of his neck. He starts to sway slightly, relishing in the feeling of his bonded beta being close. “Mised ye..” Johnny mumbled against Kyle’s skin. Kyle responded by leaning his head against Johnny’s.

A deep growl comes from the entrance of the kitchen, making the hair on the back of  both of the betas' necks stand up. “No’ going to gree’ your alpha?” A gruff voice grumbles from the archway. Johnny smiles and turns to see Simon, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. Simon is big on respect for alphas, though he isn’t too strict about it and is never mean about it. There is a dark glimmer in Simon's eyes as Johnny lets go of Kyle, Johnny placing a gentle kiss to the side of his head to soothe the whine that slips from Kyle’s throat. Simon tilts his head up and sniffs the air, only being able to smell coconut, this makes him growl lowly again.

Johnny practically bounds over to Simon, squeezing him tight in a bear hug despite how angry he looks.. “O course ah'm gaun tae, LT.” He holds back laughter at the older alpha's recent possessiveness. He purrs as Simon's arms wrap around him, similarly to how he had just done Kyle. “Ya smell like scen’ blocker.” Simon states bluntly as he buries his nose in Johnny’s mohawk, trying to catch a whiff of the freshly cut grass he is used to smelling. “Shower, now.” Simon orders, his tone holding authority as he pushes Johnny away gently by his shoulders. Simon may be rough and it seems like he isn't happy, but the pack has learned that it's just the way he loves. Johnny doesn't waste any time getting upstairs and to his bathroom, passing by John’s office.

“Pup.” A frustrated sounding alpha calls from inside, making Johnny turn on his heel to peak his head into Price’s office. “Whit’s botherin ye, alpha?” The scot asks, knowing exactly what the pack leader needed. Comfort from his beta. Price looked exhausted, dark bags under his eyes and cigar buds all over his desk. There was so much smoke in the air that his office was hazy, and it reeked of tobacco. His gaze lifts from the paperwork and meets Johnny’s, his eyes are fiery. It isn’t often that Price is in this kind of mood, but when he was it was for good reason.

Price’s nose cringes as the smell of scent blocker enters his nose instead of cut grass. The scent blocker mixes with the Patchouli and strong tobacco scent, making Price growl loudly. “Go shower firs’.” He grumbles, turning his attention back to the mound of paperwork on his desk. “Aye.” Johnny responds before slipping away. He could feel the frustration radiating from Price's office, leaving feeling a little bit worried for the alpha.

Johnny snickers slightly at his two alphas, finding it funny how much they hate smelling scent blockers inside their home. He hurries to his bathroom, now that he has orders from both of his alphas, stripping his clothes off so he can get in the shower. He knows better than to keep Price waiting when he obviously needs a betas touch.

His shower was quick, years of military training taught him to do so easily. He steps out of the shower and wraps one towel around his waist while he uses another to dry his hair. He leaves the bathroom to be met with the smell of sour oranges, almost causing him to double over when his instincts kick in. He lets out a strained groan and sits on his bed, holding onto his knees as he tries to calm himself. He can tell your crying, the smell of your stress seeping through the wall. Your scent was so strong, there was no reason he should be able to smell it as well as he can. His chest tightens knowing that there was nothing that he can do to help you, he wonders why your pack wasn’t doing anything to help you.

There is a sharp knock at his door and the scent of pine enters in nose. It’s Simon. Johnny knows that if Simon comes in here and smells an omega in distress, things won't go very well. Especially when that omega smells so close to his beta. “hold on noo, big fella. I haenae even had the chance tae put on ma clothes.” He calls out, having to hold back the panicked twinge in his voice. He stands up quickly and throws on the closest clean clothes that he could reach, the colors completely miss-matched.

“Hurry up.” He could hear Simon bark from the other side of the door, sounding like he is pressed right against the door and very frustrated. It bothers Simon when members of his pack don’t allow him access to their space, but he knows they deserve to be alone sometimes so he never pushes. Only sometimes when he’s being extra possessive and needy. Simon just needs to know what's happened to feel secure, to know that everything is okay and he has everything under control. But today he seems very pushy about it compared to other days.

Johnny goes over to the door and slips out quickly, not wanting to open the door wide enough that your scent would hit Simon too hard. He looks slightly up at Simon while holding, afraid of his reaction. A million things can happen in the next few seconds. Simon’s eyes darken slightly, his muscles tensing under the tight shirt he has on. “Ya still smell like omega.” Simon grumbles, pulling Johnny closer to sniff him. A slight growl left Simon's lips, his nose cringing at the unfamiliar smell and sour twinge to it.

Johnny fills with anxiety, hoping that Simon doesn’t realize that the smell is coming from his room. Or even worse, thinks that he’s hiding an omega from them all. His scent shifts from smelling fresh to smelling like it rained right after the grass got cut and it got all muddy and weird smelling. A low grumble emanates from Simon’s chest. “Relax, beta.” He almost snaps, his eyes shooting daggers into Johnny’s. “If you needed me to scen’ ya to finish up the cleaning, all ya had to do was ask.” He grumbles, his rough voice sounding softer now as he grabs Johnny’s wrists. All Simon thought of the situation was that Johnny trained near an omega and still smelled like them.

Simon rubs Johnny’s wrists against the scent glands on either side of his neck, his eyes sharp underneath the balaclava as he stares at Johnny. He always felt like Simon was staring into his soul, like he could read his mind. Simon takes his time, making sure by the end of this that Johnny would reek of him. His vanilla and mahogany scent covering his beta, just the way he likes it. He drops his wrists and leans into Johnny, doing his best to rub his scent into his neck and the side of his face. “Mine.” He growls lowly in Johnny’s ear, his hands moving to hold his hips. Simon pulls him closer, pulling him into his chest. “Can’ have ya smelling like a needy omega.” He grumbles.

Simon was weird about omegas. To Johnny, it seems like Simon thinks they’re too much work, not worth the trouble. But it’s not the case in reality, he just can’t see the benefits of having any one new in their already seemingly perfect pack. The truth is, alphas benefit greatly from having an omega to take care of. If you set expectations of your pack dynamic, like that there will be long periods of time that the omega will be without their pack, omegas aren't too much to handle. Alphas need to treat omegas with care for them to be happy and healthy, and Simon is not the most caring person. Johnny thinks that he’s scared and won't admit it, to them or himself.

Johnny rolls his eyes at Simon, which earns him a sharp smack to the back of his upper thigh. “Don’ be getting feisty now, Price needs to see ya.” Simon reminds the smaller beta, finally letting him go so he can take care of the pack alpha. Johnny can't help but notice the way Simon’s eyes watch him longingly, wishing he was able to command Johnny to stay with him.  Johnny can immediately sense this, shooting a smile to Simon. “Dinnae go thinking I forgo’ aboot ye, Si. A’ll come see ye whan A’m duin.” Johnny reassures the moody alpha, his hands resting comfortingly on his forearms before he slips away.

When Johnny got to Price’s office, Kyle was already coming out. He reeked of an alpha in distress. Johnny was immediately filled with dread. If Kyle couldn’t do it, neither can he. Kyle has always been better about this kind of stuff and now they were replying on Johnny to fix it. “Whit’s gotten intae him? Ye couldn’t help?” The scot asked, worry bubbling underneath his eyes. Kyle looked just as worried as Johnny was, scratching at his nose to help rid of the stench that Price was giving off. “I don’ know, he won’ calm down.” Kyle breathes, his eyes softening as he quietly closes the door so he can speak to Johnny a bit more privately. “He’s no’ righ’ in the head space righ’ now, I think there's something wrong with his alpha. Bu’ ya know how old military men are, he’s denying there's anything wrong..” Kyle speaks in a hushed whisper, not wanting Price to hear them talking about him.

Kyle's words don’t help to calm him down, it makes his head fill with endless possibilities of what could be wrong with Price. Kyle senses the stress on his fellow beta, his bonded beta, and pulls him closer. His hand runs though the hair at the base of his mohawk. “You’re gonna do jus’ fine, Johnny..” Kyle reassures him, projecting his calming coconut scent over the stressed beta. Johnny doesn’t know how Kyle is able to do it so well, but he is immediately calm. He takes a deep breath of the coconut and nods softly. “Aye, ye’re right..” He sighs out softly, filling the tension leaving his body.

Johnny pulls away from Kyle's hold and faces the door to Price’s office. He feels Kyles hand on his lower back as he takes a deep breath and reaches for the handle. He pushes open the door and slips inside, being hit quickly by the musky smell of tobacco stinking up the room. It’s hazy in the small space, cigar wrappers littering the ground. The smell of tobacco is so strong, from the cigars and from Price, that it makes Johnny want to cough.

“Alpha..” Johnny speaks softly, walking over to Price who was hunched over his desk. Johnny’s hands brush over his back and grip his shoulders. “youre puttin tui much stress on yersel, sir. war supposit tae be on partial lea.” He reminds the frustrated alpha, starting to roughly massage Price's shoulders. “This doesn't luik lik partial lea tae me.” He points out, letting his scent wash over the frustrated alpha

Price straightens out and lets his shoulders relax so that Johnny could get to his tense muscles better. “Somethings no’ right, pup.” He grumbles, his hand gripping the pen tightly in his large hand. It looked like he was about to break the plastic in half. Johnny imagines how it would set Price off to be covered in ink, so he gently takes it from his hand.

This causes Price to growl softly, a small warning. “Give i’ back, now.” He grumbled, his shoulders growing tense even under Johnny's magical hands. “nae can do, cap’. You're gonna break it.” The scot whispers gently in Price’s ear. “Are ye hungry?” He asks, pressing his front to Price's back as best he can with Price sitting in a chair as he changes the subject. “A smellit Kyle's cuikin whan A cam in.  A think he made soup.” He persuades, leaning down to place small kisses to the side of Price’s head.

Price doesn't say anything as he stands up and makes his way to the door of his office, roughly grabbing the doorknob and swinging the door open. Johnny is surprised by the sudden movement, not expecting it to be so easy to convince him to leave his cave. His hands fall from Price and he stumbles back a bit, being forced to make room for Price’s movements. The smell of his frustration fills the hallway as he stomps down the stairs, Johnny following close behind. A growl erupts from the living room as Prive passes by, coming from Simon in response to the intrusive scent. “Fucks up with you?” Simon asks, his bright blue eyes glaring at Price sharply. Simon tends to struggle when Price’s scent is as strong as it is, which makes it hard for him to remember they’re on the same team, on the field and as a pack.

Price glares back at Simon, huffing a little bit as Simon gets on his already agitated nerves. His fists clench at his sides, having to focus on not lashing out for no good reason. “Watch it, Ghost.” He almost growls, he tone commanding like he was on the field. Simon backs off when he hears his call sign, knowing not to press anymore. Sometimes, they struggle with their shared pack. There is a long silence as the two alphas stare at each other, both aware of the fine line they are walking

Price is the pack alpha, calling all the shots and making all the decisions for the wellbeing of the pack. Simon is an alpha of the pack, but does not have any proper authority as to what happens. The only thing Simon can do to have any say is to talk it out with Price, who always listens but can’t always promise Simon will get what he wants. While their relationship felt fragile, they still worked around it and found their own ways to be vulnerable around each other.

Johnny and Kyle look at each other, a similar look of worry. They aren’t used to feeling so unsure of everything, their alphas feeling so unsure of everything. All they can do is project their scent out to try and cover Price's burnt tobacco. “The food is already on the table.” Kyle broke the uncomfortable silence. “Your favorite, Alpha.” He continues, holding onto Price's arm as he guides him to the dining room.

They eat dinner in tense silence, Price’s eyes watching all of them as he eats, his gaze protective and observant. Simon meets his eyes everytime Price looks at him, realizing something together. Something is missing from their pack, they just can’t seem to put their fingers on it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You rub your lower back as you enter the bakery. You focus on the simple task; just a loaf of bread. You have a weak spot for the sourdough there. Just thinking about it, you could salivate.

You wait behind another customer. You think she works at the bank but you’ve never been very good with faces, even in a small town like Hammer Ford. Others don’t seem to have that issue as your name easily rolls off their tongues. The whispers are getting louder now that you can’t hide as easily.

The bank clerk sidles along the counter and glances over her shoulder as you shuffle forward. She sends you a judgmental look but you reserve any of the same. Everyone knows she’s sneaking around with the manager down at her branch.

You tug your shirt down as it threatens to ride further up your stomach. Everything’s too tight these days. Everything’s uncomfortable. Your fingers linger on the hem, touching the taught flesh beneath. Four months now.

“Hi,” you greet the woman behind the till, “can I get a loaf of the sourdough. I’ll take the day old for the discount if you got it.”

She smiles brightly and repeats your order, asking if there’s anything else. You say no. You budgeted for the bread, even a tea would put you too close to the line. She grabs you a loaf and she keys in the day-old discount.

You pay as she slips the wrapped loaf into a paper bag. Before you can turn away, she stops you, “have a cookie,” she points to the plate of shortbread beside the small specials sign. “They’re not moving.”

“I can’t,” you argue.

“You’re doing me a favour. I don’t like to throw them away,” she insists.

You smile sheepishly and take a cookie, hugging the bag above your stomach as you turn and nibble on the cookie. You cross to the door, juggling your armload as you open it, and leaving without a look back. You hear your name again before the door closes.

Who’s the father…

That’s the big question. You’re not married, not dating, so who could it be? The same question got you kicked out of your mother’s house. The pharmacy let you the dingy bachelor above as you spend your days working a till at the front.

You won’t say it, even to dispel the murmurs. You know it wouldn’t solve anything, only add fuel to the fire. ‘She should’ve known better. The golden prince of Hammer Ford is a known playboy. Why wouldn’t she be safe? Why wouldn’t she be responsible?’ They wouldn’t ask the same of him.

As you turn onto the street, your arm hits someone else and you drop the cookie. It cracks on the pavement and you look down, leaning forward to see the ruins. You deflate. Oh well, it was free, after all.

“Sorry,” a voice draws your attention from the spoiled shortbread. You look up at the man. You know him, you think. Again, you’re no good with faces.

He runs his hand over his shaved head then drags it around his beard, “I’ll get you another.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you wave him off, “I should go…”

“Miss, it’s the right thing to do,” he insists.

“Really, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“Me too,” he agrees. 

You tilt your head and push a shoulder up, “well, have a good one.”

You turn to cross the road, looking both ways. As you step down from the curb, the man does the same. Why can’t you remember his name? You swear you ran into him before. Down at The Horn with… him.

He walks parallel to you as you cross the street. You stop and look at him, confused.

“Just seeing you across, miss.”

“Uh, thanks, that’s very nice but you don’t have to do that,” you chuckle nervously.

“I know. Just what I’m trained to do.”

You remember, he’s a soldier. Yeah, Thor mentioned that. Just thinking his name stings.

“Right, well, thanks, I appreciate that,” you put your hand on your stomach and haul the bag higher, turning toward the pharmacy just a shop down.

You hear him follow you again. It makes you nervous. Is he going to the pharmacy? It could be a coincidence, it’s a small town. Still, it’s very odd.

You go to the door just past the store entrance and take out your key. He comes right up and watches you, looming strangely at your shoulder. You hold onto your key and face him.

“You’re pregnant,” he says as if you don’t know.

“Uh, yeah,” you nearly laugh, “I am.”

“Shouldn’t be carrying all that,” he says.

“Just bread,” you answer.

“That father should be getting you bread,” he argues.

You’re put off by his demeanour. He speaks as if he’s giving orders to the world around him. You guess that’s just his nature.

“He won’t be doing that,” you shake your head. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t remember me,” he adds, “I remember you. You were dancing and drinking.” He looks again at your stomach. You put your hand over it defensively.

“I wasn’t like this then.”

“You weren’t,” he frowns then points to your finger, “no ring?”

This is awkward. Where everyone else in Hammer Ford is happy to whisper behind their hands, he’s interrogating you in the street. You shake your head and look down.

“Must not be a real man who did that,” he comments, “I’m Sy, just to remind you.”

“Sy,” you sniff, “right, I–”

He says your name first, “I remember.” He taps his temple, “I won’t forget.”

You swallow and the bag crinkles against your chest, “I’m… gonna go, uh, Sy, my feet hurt.”

“Be safe,” he commands.

“Thanks,” you utter awkwardly and stick your key in the slot. He stands staunchly as he is and as you pull the door open, he reaches to open it all the way and holds it, “got it.”

You keep the fragile smile on your lips and bow inside. He lets it close slowly and you pause to make sure he’s on the other side. You twist the lock into place and recoil. That was very weird.

[wosoragebaiter69]

late

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here & here

A/N: i love everything about this request. (i did make lucy ona and keira a throuple for the memes)

also Asisat has left.. no more dedicated funny person in my stories 😔

TW: Panic Attack

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

You’re late. You’re never late. That’s how you end up on the phone with Ona, stressed and out of your mind.

“I’m not sure Ona! All I know is that my period is late, and I am FREAKING out, so god help me and come over please.” You’re borderline screaming at the phone.

“Ok ok, please just calm down I’ll be there soon. When I get there you better have an explanation of why you think you might be pregnant, you are literally 17.” You can hear her disappointment.

“Yes I know, I know. Just get the tests please.” She says yes and promptly hangs up the phone as you go back to worrying.

- - - - -

All was going well for Ona, she bought two tests which were different brands and payed for them without getting recognised by any fans. She opts to not buy a bag, considering it’s 8pm at night. It’s not like she was going to run into anyone anyways, right?

Wrong, immediately as she walks out of the pharmacy, tests in hand she bumps into not only her captain. But 1 of her 2 girlfriends as well.

“Uhh, what is that?” Lucy says, looking down at the tests in her girlfriends hand.

“I, uhh.” The younger spaniard starts to freak out, not wanting to put you in a vulnerable position.

“Tell us.” Alexia says sternly, leaving no room for argument.

“Well, it’s not for me. It’s for… it’s for Y/N.” The older women look visibly shaken and shocked.

“Disculpe!”

“Qué?”

They speak at the same time.

“Ok, I’m about to go to her house. Lucy you can come with me and Ale you can come if you’d like.”

“I’ll leave the nena to you both, just update me ok?” Alexia is concerned, rightfully so. Ona and Lucy nod, before getting in the car and driving to your place.

- - - - -

You open the door, surprised to see not 1 but 2 visitors.

“Hola.” You say before allowing them access inside the apartment.

“Sorry, I uh might’ve ran into Lucy and Alexia and I had to tell them.” Ona blurts out, you don’t worry though as it would probably get out anyways.

“It’s fine… can I just have the tests now?” She nods slowly, passing them to you before running off to the bathroom.

When you’ve followed the instructions and done what’s needed, you walk out and place the two sticks on the table, flipping them upside down. Once again you begin to spiral.

“Oh god, what if it’s positive.” You mumble, pushing your knees to your chest.

“Hey, if it is positive we’ll do our best to support you, if it’s negative then there’s nothing to worry about. Might be a cyst or something. Take deep breaths for me ok?” Lucy’s reassuring voice leads you into a less panicked state, and you just hoped that time would fly by faster.

When the timer on Ona’s phone went off, you felt sick. You took deep breaths as Ona scratched your back slightly. You counted in your head to three and flipped both tests open to reveal one negative… and one positive. Oh fuck.

“Ona? Luce? Please. What do I do, I’m scared.” Tears stream down your face, your body starts to shake and Lucy immediately holds you tight against her.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok. It might be a false positive, youre going to be ok I promise.” She says as you’re crying, her words fall deaf in your ears as you can only sob harder. Now going into a full panic attack.

“Call Keira, I’ll message Alexia.” Ona nods and calls the other Englishwoman.

- - - - -

It’s around 5 minutes later, you feel like you’re going to pass out when there’s knocks on the door. You register something else happening and soon enough someone has their hands touching your knees and speaking.

The person takes your hand and puts it agaisnt something that’s beating and you try to get in sync with it.

Soon enough, you regain your senses and it’s Keira who’s pulled you back to reality. It seems she knows you’re back with the look she gives.

“Hey…” She whispers softly, wiping the tears out of your eyes. “Whatever happens, you have me, the team and we won’t judge you at all. Ok?” You nod.

It takes a few more minutes until you’re basically back to where you were. You look up at their curious gazes.

“You can ask questions if you want.” You answer the unspoken question.

“So you… you had sex.” You nod at Keira.

“With a guy?” Ona pipes up and you sigh nodding your head again.

“Ok, how about this. Give it another week and we’ll do another two tests, IF you haven’t got your period by then, sound good?” You half-smile and stare at the table.

“Do you want any of us to stay at all?” You shrug, not even sure what you want at the current moment. “Ok, Keira will stay with you and you’ll go to training in the morning. We updated Alexia and she’s worried. She agrees with us about the waiting and what we’ll do after today. She might want to speak to you tomorrow though.”

“Ok, thank you for everything Luce and you Ona.” You look at both of them, smiling gratefully. They pat you on the shoulder before walking out to presumably go home. Then Keira turns to you.

“I brought stuff over in case, don’t worry about lending clothes or anything like that.”

“Ok… could you maybe sleep- like in the bed with me?” You ask, slightly embarrassed.

“Not at all come on, you need the rest.” She leads you to your room and you immediately crash fast asleep against the pillow.

- - - - -

The next morning when you wake up, you know something has changed. There’s a light ache in your abdomen and your muscles are slightly sore. Keira is peacefully lying beside you and you’re happy that she stuck to her word and stayed.

You lazily make your way to the bathroom to use the toilet when you feel as if God has blessed you. low and behold that positive from the previous night was a false one.

You feel immediately at ease and get done what needs to be done in the morning.

“Keira!” You greet happily, she smiles slightly confused. Considering it’s such a dramatic change from last night.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“I finally got it.” It takes a second for her to register what you meant by that but when she does she’s also happy.

“Well, that’s great. Come on, eat this muesli bar and we’ll get going, then you can tell the girls about it.” You nod and head off to training.

- - - - -

When you walk in the room where all the girls are, the ones who knew look at you in surprise of the look of joy on your face.

“Why so happy cariño?” Ale asks.

“Well it seems like someone has blessed me because this morning I got what I’d been hoping for. My period.” You say dramatically and she smiles.

“YAYY THE BEBE ISN’T PREGNANT!” Mapi’s loud voice shouts as you look down, cheeks turning red.

“Welcome to womanhood elskling.” Ingrid pulls you in and presses a kiss against your temple.

—————————————————————————

i fangirled so hard today on the woso writers discord

[heartsforvin]

hi bae! I was wondering if you could write a fic about the reader having like heart problems and vinnie is always looking out for the reader if that makes any sense<3

TAKING CARE OF YOU

i loveee this because i actually have heart problems (more of a condition) and i think ab this a lot🥲 i hope you like this, thank you for the request !! also i hope you don’t mind i added a tinge of angst, just a lil small argument, but overall it’s fluffy !

+ i hope you don’t mind me implicating my own heart problems into this, it’s really the only cardiovascular thing i know most about 🥲

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing?? , small argument, use of pet names, use of medication, vinnie just being the best bf , fluff

summary: after knowing about your heart problems, vinnie is by your side night and day to make sure you’re okay

you and vinnie had been together about a month when you finally told him the news about your heart. once you did, he asked you why you didn’t say anything sooner, why you didn’t tell him when you first met, but you told him you just needed time.

he understood, after the two of you had a tiny argument, it was mainly vinnie asking you over and over why you didn’t say anything sooner.

it was really no big deal, and you told that to vinnie, but he seemed to think it was. you loved that side of him of course, because it honestly was serious, but it didn’t effect your everyday life like other things.

you mentioned to him that you couldn’t do certain things like riding on the big roller coaster rides, skydive, or anything that could put your heart at risk really.

he didn’t mind that you had to sit out on some things, that just meant you two had to find something else to do if you wanted to go to an amusement park.

today, you and vinnie had one of your yearly cardiologist appointments. when you were younger it was more than once a year, but over time your heart got better and the doctors only needed to see you yearly.

“you got everything, baby?” vinnie asks as you grab your purse.

you nod as he grabs your hand in his and the two of you walk out of the apartment and to the elevator.

on your way to the doctors, vinnie’s hand finds its home on your thigh as you place your hand on his with a smile.

“think we’ll get good news today?” he asks, glancing at you for a minute before putting his eyes back on the road.

you look at him with a smile. “that’s all it has been for awhile, no signs of anything major yet,” you breathe out. “i think it’ll be good.”

vinnie returns your smile and takes your hand to squeeze it reassuringly, letting you know no matter what, everything will be okay.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

after your appointment vinnie had decided to treat you to ice cream, which you of course said yes to. once you two got your ice cream you decided to sit outside on a picnic table since the weather was nice.

“i think that went well.” vinnie said after a moment of silence.

you nodded as you put a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. “besides the fact that they gave me medication to take.” you tell him.

the doctor had prescribed some sort of medication to help your heart, you didn’t think it was very necessary since your heart is already in almost perfect condition.

vinnie sighed, he had a feeling you’d bring this up when the two of you were alone. “you know it’s just helping you.” he reassures.

you glare at him, not muttering a word as you finish your ice cream. you knew he was right, but you felt like it wasn’t necessary at all. 

finishing up your ice cream, the two sat in silence there and on the ride back to the apartment. you were grateful for vinnie looking out for you and helping you out, but sometimes you wish he’d back off a bit.

once back at the apartment, you drop your things on the counter and take your shoes off before going to the couch to cuddle with hera.

on your way home the two of you had stopped at the pharmacy to get your medication.

once vinnie had put his things down he opened up the bag your medicine was in and read off the label.

“baby it says you have to take it once daily after breakfast.” vinnie informed, walking over to you and sitting on the couch.

you looked at him and nodded as you continued to cuddle hera. “i’ll start it tomorrow.” you told him.

.ೃ࿔*

tomorrow came and here you were arguing with vinnie about some silly medicine.

you didn’t think you’d be arguing with him about this fire thing in the morning, but here you were.

“sweetheart just take it, it’s one pill and once a day, no big deal.” vinnie said, trying to get you to take your medicine.

he stood over you as you laid on your side of the bed, still trying to get up for the day. vinnie had made you breakfast and put out a glass of orange juice and your medicine.

“i told you i don’t need it, it’s stupid.” you argued back.

vinnie rolled his eyes. he wasn’t going to force you to do anything, so he just left you how you were and waited.

hours passed and you did eventually take your medicine. you sat on the couch with vinnie as hera came up to sit on your lap.

“feelin’ okay?” vinnie asks as he runs his fingers through your hair.

you nod. “yeah, i’m sorry for yelling at you this morning.” you apologize.

vinnie kisses the side of your head and gives you a smile. “it’s okay. i’m just trying to help you out, i hope you know that.”

vinnie’s words almost make you tear up. he’s been helping you and taking care of you ever since you told him, and you can’t thank him enough.

“i know,” you sigh. “i just..i took these years ago and they made no difference, so i don’t know why i’m on them again.” you explain.

vinnie hums as he continues to run his fingers through your hair. “i couldn’t give you an answer for that, baby,” he tells you. “take them for a bit and update the doctor how you’re doing and then they’ll tell us if you still need them or not, okay?”

you nod with a smile as you lean in to hug him. vinnie hugs you tight, kissing your head as you stay like that for a minute.

“are you feelin’ okay though, like really? no chest pain or anything? ‘cause i know you do get those little pains here and there.” he asks as he pulls away from you.

laughing slightly you nod. “i’m fine vin, swear. i’d tell you if i’m not feeling good or in pain, you know that.”

he holds you in his arms and kisses your head. “i know, i know. you know i just like taking care of you, that’s what i’m here for.”

you hug him and kiss his head like he did to you moments ago. “i know baby, and thank you for taking care of me. i love you.”

cupping your face, you both smile at each other before vinnie leans in to softly kiss you.

“of course sweetheart,” he breathes, out. “it’s what i’m here for, i’ll always be here for you no matter what. i love you.”

the two stay like that for awhile — in each others arms with hera right beside you. you’re glad you have vinnie here with you, to love you and take care of you so you’re not doing any of this alone.

you couldn’t ask for anyone else, all you wanted was him. your boy.

heyyy 😜😜 i hope you all liked this and thank you again for the request !!!

taglist: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @42angelgirl , @bernelflo , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @sturnioloshacker , @slvthrs , @visualbutterflysworld , @khackerr , @leqonsluv3r , @khxna , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @violet0182 , @hallecarey1 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @eddieslut69 , @miilzzy , @skye-44 , @jpg3

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Charcuterie

Part 1 | AO3 | *This is a story told in scenes and can be read in any order though is listed in chronological order on the masterlist.

<I know you still have it. Can you take the credit card and buy a bunch of cheeses, meats, fruits, and pick up some of those fancy ice cube trays you’ve been eyeing?

The message from Simon had you fighting back the urge to rip him a new asshole. You know he isn’t trying to be rude. The guys were due home after six weeks gone and Simon needed a few days to acclimate to the fact you were not one of the soldiers and would bitch him out if he tried to treat you as such. It didn’t help that your period was kicking you down every step it could find and then dragging you into the octagon by your hair to go ten rounds.

>Incorrect. I snapped that fucker in half because it made me nauseous to have a black card in my wallet when I couldn’t afford to fill my tank.

Ten minutes pass before your phone dings with the message tone.

<You snapped a metal card in half?

>Yes. I was very determined.

You can feel the nose pinching from wherever Simon might be right now. He only did that move when exasperated. You watched John pull the same move about any number of minor annoyances.

John’s face appears on your phone for a video call within three breaths. Of course, they were talking about you.

Rolling your eyes and praying your eye doesn’t start twitching you answer the call. John is sporting a new bruise on his cheek and a split lip. You know better than to comment on it since the guys will let you look them all over when you get home.

“Hi, love. Can you do me a favor?”

Your tongue slides over your teeth behind your lip, the syrupy sweetness of his voice makes you want to reach through the phone and strangle him. Fuckers must not have deleted the period tracking app from Johnny’s phone like you demanded they did.

“What?” You ask brusquely.

“In my bedside drawer is a plain envelope with your name on it, inside is your copy of the card to the house fund. Can you take that and go buy whatever Simon already texted you and a snack for yourself?”

You can hear Johnny in the background asking to say hi and then getting promptly dragged away. From what you can see around John they are on a military base somewhere, the nondescript buildings in light beige and gray giving it away.

“Which bedside drawer John? All of your drawers can be reached from your bed.”

He had two and every time you visited his room to spend time with him or to simply sniff his pillows because you missed him you noticed the two nightstands and the massive dresser next to the bed.

Gary’s bark of a laugh reached you as John focused off-screen to glare at him.

John’s face softens when he turns back to look at you.

“The nightstand closest to the door, please.”

“Why have you been keeping a card for the house account from me? None of you let me pay anything into it.”

You weren’t bitter about that argument still. You weren’t.

He lets out a slow breath as he decides you won’t pick this fight back up now.

“I wasn’t keeping it from you. It only arrived before we left on this last job and I haven’t had a chance till now to tell you about it. But from what you did to the card from Simon it seems like a good thing I haven’t given it to you yet.” He looks at you with one brow cocked under his hat.

“Keep it up John and I will shrink all your hats one by one.”

The smile that broke across his face at your threat warmed you from the inside out.

“We love you, and we will be home by six. Be sure to stop by the pharmacy and get some painkillers for your cramps.”

With that, he ended the call.

“Fucker,” you mutter angrily to yourself as you stomp across the house and into John’s room. “Telling me what to do from across the country so I don’t bite him. Yes, I need pain meds and yes we are out. No excuse hang up the call instead of letting me yell at him like a man.”

Your angry tirade continued as you slid on your shoes and drove first to the pharmacy and then to the store. You bought two energy drinks to ensure you could survive until your guys got home and then spent an hour looking at cheese. Okay, more like an hour talking to the cheesemonger before getting yourself a couple of slices of Swiss and turkey to go along with the fancy cheeses you bought for the guys. The ice trays you did not need to buy this trip since you had already bought some two weeks ago to make your at-home drinks more fun.

At 5:30 the cheese tray sat ready, the ice had fully frozen, and all of the guy’s preferred alcohol had been pulled from the liquor cabinet. Cracking open your energy drink you transferred it into a new glass and sat down to wait for them. They would be early. John seemed to forget that when they were all motivated to get home they moved faster. Fifteen minutes earlier than John’s prediction and they rolled in the door. You rose to meet them, flurries of kisses and hugs as they all dispersed to their rooms to change and come back to the kitchen for food.

Gary came back first, wrapping himself around you like if he squeezed just right he could absorb you. You smiled and leaned into the love, having missed them tremendously while they were gone.

“You come back whole?”

He hums in confirmation and then is peeled off of you as Kyle replaces him in your embrace. Gary doesn’t fight it; instead, he grabs a plate and piles it high with the many options you grabbed beyond cheese and meat. This process is repeated until all of your men have been grounded in your presence and gorge themselves on food.

Finally able to move freely again you grab your own plate from the fridge and sit down at the table with them.

Johnny pokes at your plate.

“What’s this now?”

“I didn’t want fancy cheese so I bought some normal cheese,” you shrug as layer a cracker, cheese, and a bit of your turkey to pop into your mouth.

His hand sneaks forward to try and steal one for himself but you smack the back of his fingers before he can touch your plate. With one hand over your mouth, brows pulled together in frustration, and an angry finger pointed his way, Johnny gets the point.

Swallowing hard to clear your mouth you address him.

“If you don’t want fancy cheese next time don’t let Simon be in charge of texting me. You know he always wants the good stuff,” you finish your sentence with a sip from your glass. “Now if no one else needs me I am going to go curl up and die.”

Kyle opens his mouth to add something but you speak over his objections.

“I will lay down in John’s bed so everyone can fit in for a cuddle.”

John and Simon share a smile before looking back at you.

Your loves were home, and with them came the constant evolving chaos that was the home you shared.

Masterlist | Fallen Angel Masterlist

@lilynotdilly

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Hii, I have a lil request for slasher & child!reader. It’s a little bit personal, sorry haha.

Do you think you could write something with a child reader who has anemia? It’s sometimes literally just called “lack of blood,” so you can get an idea of how crappy it is to have.

It makes it really hard to breathe and makes my heart beat abnormally faster compared to people who don’t have it, and lots of chest pain. It also causes extreme cases of fatigue and headaches, and I have fainted because of it before.

I feel like having anemia would be a big struggle for slashers, (what with having to constantly run, lift thing, being real active) so they’d def feel upset that their kid has it.

There’s a lot more stuff, but you get the idea. Sorry if this one’s a bit more personal

No, no. It's perfectly fine. I hope you're doing well, I'm sorry if I made the condition sound worse than it is. Apologies for my ignorance.

And take care of yourself, anon. 🏹❤‍🔥

Cw:

Relation: platonic.

Slashers in this: Michael, Jason, thomas, bubba (sorry I couldn't write for billy & stu and sinclair twins)

Slashers x anemic! child! reader

Michael

It didn't bother him that much, but it did worry him. He didn't particularly have to worry about running... Well you running because he'd prefer you stay at your parents' house when he does murder but if you don't have any.... Well, he would rather carry you to safety if you're having trouble anyways. He'll survive. With Michael, there's always a home but never a home to stay at though.

he doesn't like standing and observing you whenever he notices you're having trouble breathing and when you clutch your chest in pain. He doesn't know what to do and he wishes he does.

Do you need.. What were those things again? Inhalers? He witnessed a few people use it when their breathing was erratic and rough so he wonders if you need it too. But for now he'll rub your back and hope it helps to support you emotionally that you're not alone and he's here. Whatever you need him to get, tell him and he'll try his best. Supplements? Give him an hour. I think he knows a pharmacy somewhere that he can break into. And don't even try to refuse them, he won't have it.

Since you're a child he worries this might be too hard for you – and he hopes it won't be the end of the world for your life anytime soon.

You're tired? That's fine, sleep on the couch or floor. Anywhere, he doesn't care. Just not on him. (You can convince him if you try hard enough.) He doesn't care if you nap 3 times a day, sleeping is good for you and helps you grow. Or so he heard. He doesn't even sleep that much anyways – your deadly father figure Michael approves. What he doesn't approve of are the headaches you get, the more painful they seem the more frustrated he gets. God dammit, why is your life so difficult? Where are the painkillers again?

Okay so the real panic sets in the first time you passed out in front of him. Fuck, did you die?

He's shaking your body slightly and pressing his ear up your chest, letting out a silent sigh when he hears your faint heartbeat. He gently lifts your body and places it on the couch – he sits beside you, watching you over like a hawk. Michael can't believe it. Never in his life had he thought he'd look after and stress for someone this hard - especially not a child. You must be absolutely insane if you think he's the type to care for one and yet here he is, listening carefully for your breath to hitch and your eyelids to be open.

He sighs, why can't he just murder peacefully? He's questioning everything. But he'll get used to it eventually. Sometimes he acts like you're a burden on his shoulders and a source of meaningless grey hairs but that's not exactly how he feels. It's.. Different.

But never hesitate to trouble him, not even when he comes back after 2 all nighters.

Jason

He is always so scared that one day your body might give up and die. The thing he stresses really hard about is that he can't give you the supplements and things you need. He's in the middle of buttfuck nowhere in the woods but he does know where the end of the woods are and he's kind of willing to step into civilization if it gets really bad, he really doesn't want to see his kid in pain and do nothing about it. He's not going to Manhattan again though. Always extra painstaking when he takes care of you and makes sure you don't need to use your body as much.

Anytime someone enters the camp he's immediately shoving you somewhere safe and deals with whoever trespassed himself. Although he's in immense discomfort when you have your headaches and difficulty in breathing. He's begging for his mom for help in his mind what he can do to ease whatever pain you're growing through.

Although Jason doesn't need to eat, he knows you do. So he searches for fish in nearby lakes (if there are even any) and he gets nuts, whatever is rich in iron. He'll get em for you.

Secretly hopes that people do trespass into camp crystal Lake. Those who happen to carry iron vitamins and supplements that is. He feels extremely relieved after going through the bags of one of the victims he's beheaded and finding a bottle, happily handing it to you and if you don't want to consume it he's very gently shoving it down your throat. Nope, you're going to eat this and that's final. Mama pam says so.

Sighs and lays you down when your chest starts hurting and stays by your side. Why do you have to go through so much? He thinks as he rubs your hair and waits for it to go away so you both can carry on whatever you were doing. Because of this, he doesn't allow you to lift the wood that he's chopped. If you insist it's either he stays stubborn or he allows you to carry the thin ones one at a time. You don't have to help him, and while he appreciates the thought. He would rather you stay inside and be safe.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn't catch on that this act of overprotectiveness and treating you as if you were made of bubble might upset you. Tilting his head to the side slightly as he watches you sulk in the corner in both frustration and feeling of being heavily underestimated. He really doesn't mean any harm. A little confused but Jason's got the spirit.

Panicks really hard every time you faint, his mind always wanders to the worst possible case scenario and assumes you have died. Incredibly frustrated since he's technically dead and a lot of his senses don't work properly. He's losing his touch and things are getting a bit hard to hear. Ear pressed hard against your chest, hoping his eardrums will be met with the thrum of your heartbeat and his fingers checking for your pulse, waiting to feel the throb upon his skin.

Got used to you getting fatigued and actually encourages you to sleep. It's better than following him outside of the cabins and into the woods where you risk getting bear trapped. Strict, very strict.

Thomas

Thomas is already very grateful for his family but he's even more grateful for them right now cause he would have no idea what to do without them. It depends, whether you're blood related or illegally adopted he will get used to it eventually. This ain't the craziest the family has dealt with.

He brushes you off whenever you try to help him carry things, what if you get dizzy and get headaches again? No! He won't have it. He carries you in his arms and sits you down somewhere. You can sit on top of his shoulders if you'd like.

Gets especially anxious when there are people comin in. He knows you won't particularly be targeted nor would the family allow you to exert yourself, but if something goes wrong? You have to run, and then your breathing will get roughed and- he doesn't want to think about it. But it does stay on his mind a lot. He makes sure to reassure you however he can when Hoyt makes you feel like you're a hindrance to the family, he doesn't know what he's talking about, is what Thomas tries his best to tell you. 'He's just scared.' He thinks and pats your head.

Heard from mama mae that meat, dark green vegetables and nuts will help raise your iron. (Assuming that he has been somewhat educated on your condition.) And then from now he will pester you to consume those. You don't wanna eat the meat? Why not? But fine, eat your veggies and nuts then.

Iron supplements? What are those?

Your chances of getting them are pretty low, I'm not sure if there's a pharmacy or clinic nearby but fingers crossed Hoyt might get in that damn truck and drive to get them for you if he feels nice enough. Tommy's not allowed out into the public.

Frowns a little when he cuddles you in his lap for you to fall asleep and feels your hands are cold. Why are they so cold?, hell why are you so cold? It's not even winter yet. Oh but when winter does come he's smothering your body with lots of layers. Will add more layers if you fall sick. And no, that's not up for debate.

When you faint he'll first stare at your unconscious body in shock before picking you up and putting you down on the couch, he puts his hand in front of your nostrils and feels air hitting his fingers. With a relieved sigh he patiently waits for you to wake up. Not too alarmed.

It's a different story when you're in pain, his heart breaks a little when your chest hurts and your head aches. You want water? Give him a break, he's trying his best.

Bubba

Out of this list, he's the one to handle this the worst when one of your more serious side effects takes place. And it really doesn't help that his family kinda don't know what to do either. They can try to help but it probably won't work that much.

It's lowkey over for you.

It also depends. All he knows is that something is wrong with you; you get dizzy, your breathing gets all incorrect, your chest hurts and you (guessing because of the rougher environment) faint a few times too much to what he'd prefer. Absolutely clueless.

Although you do have more of a leverage if you have at least somewhat knowledge about your condition. (Reading books or you were adopted and knew it beforehand way back prior to when bubba killed your parents.) This way Bubba can learn and know what to expect, he's very much happy to learn about you and take care of you to the best of his abilities.

Quite sad actually that you can't properly take part in revving the chainsaw and chainsawing people. Though the times that you can are when the victim is tied down and helpless. It's up to you whether or not you want to partake in it, though you don't have much of a choice. The family's set on tradition and won't understand why if you don't want to; 'you WILL be killing people with this chainsaw! I'm sick of this phase of yours!' 'It's not a phase.'

Seeing you faint will almost send Bubba to tears, hell, maybe it did already. He's just shaking your body while whining and babbling incoherently. After the whole incident he'll rarely ever let you out of his sight, great, now he's dragging you everywhere.

There will be a lot of problems being in the Sawyer family. But at least you're still alive... Right?

[covid-safer-hotties]

I’m aware the current CDC recommendations for isolation seem to be woefully inadequate, but im embarrassed to say… I don’t know why? Like, what evidence supports a quarantine period of 14 days, vs something else?

I’m studying up on viral shedding to try to see how long people remain contagious, but you are way more familiar with this material than me.

Viral shedding for covid is highly variable: People can be completely asymptomatic, presymptomatic, and varying levels and types of symptomatic. Asymptomatic people tend to shed less, but they're less likely to take precautions because of that, and they account for nearly half of total covid spread. Presymptomatic people add another 15-20% of spread, because they shed more as the infection grows into something symptomatic. The record for presymptomatic covid is about 8 days, but the average onset of symptoms tends to be 2 or 3 days after infection (and this varies from strain to strain). There's been some study into all of the kinds of spread, but not enough. What we do know is each variant has a different virulence: Some are easier and harder to spread in any type of case. The best we can say is that people are infectious on average 2 or 3 days before symptom onset and somewhere in the ballpark of 8 or 9 days after they feel them, and plenty of people have no clue they've been infected. It's why we need public masking, especially in critical areas like public transit and grocery/pharmacy/etc as well as test to exit policies for quarantine instead of a set number of days. Some people pass an infection very quickly, while in some extreme cases, others have been contagious for weeks or even months. It was either in Baltimore or Pittsburgh where wastewater technitians found a cryptic strain that one person was shedding from an active long-term infection for over a year. I think the person finally passed the infection earlier this year.

I guess what I'm saying is early on, two weeks was seen as enough time to quarantine a sick person to ensure they wouldn't spread the infection to others, but even that isn't enough in some cases. The policy we need is free testing so people can exit a quarantine after they've had a (or a couple) negative tests (Depending on the type of test) to assure they are no longer going to spread the virus to others. We also need a social safety net to care for these people while they stay out of contact with others, but our government would never do that. We can't even feed kids without charging them.

[comfortless]

to the anon who was talking about konig and the rule following intention thing: i love you. he seems cheeky like that. BUT i will also climb that big man and start strangling him if he entertained or led on the recruit.

idk, maybe its my rabies, but i would start whacking him grgrgrgrg. wrangle him till he acts right!!!!! (whatever that means)

i also love that anon! 🤭

Being instructed to “act right” for König is more or less the same as following any order at work. “Shoot that target.” is the very same as “Don’t glare at a stranger.” The differences between the König at home and the König on the field are subtle things. No bloodshed and rewards in the form of tenderness and orgasms instead. He’s less rigid, less focused, but still a soldier, the strangest one at that.

Everything is taken as directly as possible, because he’s not going to question any hidden meaning behind words. That’s silly. He always says just what he means, so shouldn’t everyone else?

There’s a lot he just doesn’t get, and your jealousy happens to be one of those things.

He would kill for you, lets you graze your fingertips over his favorite weapons, allows you to hold his face and even pretends that your staring doesn’t make his fingers twitch and sweat bead at his temples. König is loyal and so trusting with you… how dare you accuse him of worshipping some other woman in the same way? How could you even believe that?

Say you, his beloved, put together the pieces, realize that surely this woman is messaging your König during his leave for a reason. There’s an argument to be had, one that’s less of a screaming fit and more of a break down from both sides. You tell him through gritted teeth and tears that you know your intuition isn’t wrong: he’s done something, you just aren’t certain what that something is. There’s no outright accusation spoken, but his face immediately grows red and his eyes narrow.

It’s not that he even cares to question why you would think that way. He just wants to know where he’s failed. What is it that you need that he’s not already providing? He takes an awful picture of his cock each time he’s hard and away from you, even follows it up with one of the aftermath of thinking of you. No other woman makes him feel so starved.

He knows he isn’t very romantic; you would probably prefer actual dates instead of watching him train or following along like a cute accessory at the gym. But he brings you flowers, licks your cunt without hesitation, buys you feminine products and chocolate any time that you’re in need of them. Sure, each picnic date ends with your chest pressed against a sturdy tree or your thighs spread atop the patterned blanket, but the confessions hissed into your hair are true. It’s never just been sex, not to him. It’s love, and that’s one word he never seems to shy away from saying. He’s greedy, wouldn’t want something so simple, not after every moment you’ve spent together.

König might not get why you’re so into some new trend or show, but he listens when you talk about them. Or tries, at least. Really, he had no idea why you would bother explaining to him why you prefer a dress with wiry straps over something cozier when he arrives home, but he’s happy to just listen to your voice and shush you with kisses when he doesn’t know how else to respond.

You’re allowed access to his phone any time you like, even shows you his bank account to prove he hasn’t taken some lady a world away off on some expensive shopping trip or spent a curious amount at a pharmacy. In fact…. He’s barely spent anything while away, all of the transactions are from the last time he was on leave or at that cute little shop he had told you about and brought you home some shiny new gift from. There’s nothing suspicious to be found… except for those messages from the woman he tells you is just a recruit.

So… what if you’re just projecting?

To him, his own jealousy is righteous.

König almost looks scary when he’s upset, not that he would ever lay a hand on you. Maybe the coffee table will be in disarray, cleared entirely when the thought of you leaving proves to be far too much. His shirt suffers a few massive tears when he grips at his chest to show you just where you’re hurting him.

You may not have outright accused him, but König can’t hold his tongue when he asks you about this imaginary other man. Is he handsome? Does he buy you nice things? Does he make you come hard? How did you meet and just where does he live? Do you love him…?

König would try his utmost to hold back tears. He feels weak when he cries, and the last thing he wants is for you to view him as fragile. He’s supposed to protect you.

But it’s all gone in a flash. His entire being seems to relax when you explain to him that there is no other man. The unshed tears are wiped away, a heavy sigh leaves him when he rubs at his face. He feels like the worst idiot just stood there blinking in surprise while you’re still pissed, but at least that scenario proves to be untrue.

You just want to understand why he’s entertaining some other woman’s flirtations. Is that what telling some recruit she’s got sharp aim and allowing her to grasp at his arm and admire his muscles is..? He will admit that maybe he’s allowed her too much closeness, even if he never has and never will return her affections.

It baffles him entirely for a moment, slows his tongue enough to have a grin curl at his lips. It’s the most flattering thing in the entire world to think that you desire him so much that the thought of sharing makes you like this. The realization that maybe you’re just as territorial as he is is impossibly cute, makes him twice as obnoxious and overbearing when you’re pulled into his arms.

His voice takes an amused lilt when he asks you just what you want him to do about it. Cut her off? He’ll avoid her entirely if it appeases you. He doesn’t want to hurt a woman that isn’t an actual enemy, so killing her is certainly out of the question, but he can be scary if you would like that. She wouldn’t like him as much if she saw his face. He would remind you that only a silly thing like yourself could ever be keen on it. Your orders are absolute, so long as he still gets a treat in the end.

[arwenlalaith]

Yes, Daddy

Ship: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Summary: When Emily proposed to you that you go off your heat suppressants and be her little free use slut, you weren't so sure it was a good idea...

Word Count: 1177

Author's Note: This fills the Free Use square on my @cmkinkbingo2024 card. It's also a sequel to "At Your Service" because apparently if enough people say 'continue' I do it.

“I guess I owe you one...” you said, breaking the silence in the car as Emily drove you home from the airstrip. You’d landed in D.C. just shy of midnight and it was safe to say you were both exhausted after the small-scale shitshow that was Alaska.

Emily took her eyes off the road to fix you with a quizzical look. “For what?” she asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.

Puzzled by her confusion, you awkwardly stumbled around the matter as you tried to avoid saying the actual words, “You know...for...helping me.”

Understanding seemed to dawn on her then. “You mean for fucking your brains out?” she said, saying the words you were reluctant to voice.

Blushing, you mumbled, “Yeah...that.”

She laughed, entirely too smug for your liking.

Rather than comment on that, though, you simply said, “Hopefully my pharmacy will have gotten a restock...” Emily hummed a note in response to that and it didn’t sound like agreement. Raising a brow, you asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

“The noise you made,” you prompted.

She seemed to consider lying for a split second, but just as quickly the urge gave way and she blurted out, “What if you didn’t refill them?”

If anything, that left you even more confused than before. “What? Why?”

“Don’t you think it might be fun?”

“Fun?” you repeated incredulously, “To...be constantly, insanely, out of my mind horny?” When she nodded, you gave her a pointed look and said, deadly serious, “No, I don’t think it would be fun!”

“Really?” she asked and you weren’t sure if it was meant to come off mischievous or imperious, “I think I’d enjoy it...”

Your brows leapt up your forehead. “You...would?”

“Especially if I had constant twenty-four/seven unfettered access,” she purred, raking her eyes over you.

“Access?”

“To that sweet little hole,” she growled, “You have no idea badly I want to cum inside you...”

...

You thought about what Emily had said for the rest of the car ride to your apartment. Something about the idea of being Emily’s fuckdoll was insanely hot... You’d never particularly wanted to be owned like that, to have an Alpha control you like that, but Emily... Emily was different.

You got little sleep, laying awake in bed long into the night, thinking about the matter. What it might be like to be at Emily’s constant beck and call...the thought was enough to have you aching to touch yourself. Which is why you ended up calling Emily...

Groggily, Emily answered your call with a mumbled, “Wha’sgoin’on?”

“I want to do it.”

She suddenly seemed much more awake, sounding almost like the cat that swallowed the canary. “Oh, really?”

You nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see it over the phone. “Yes, Daddy.”

She practically growled as she declared, “I’m coming over.”

“What? Now? But...”

Another growl, this one more feral. “Are you or are you not my little free use slut?”

“I am, but...” you started to protest.

She clicked her tongue. “Do not get smart with me, Baby,” she snapped. “I’m coming over and when I get there, I expect to see your sweet little cunt on display and ready to be used.” She didn’t give you the chance to protest, hanging up before you’d had time to wrap your head around the command.

...

From where you lay splayed out across your bed, you heard the door unlock, knew it was Emily since she had the only spare key. If you’d had any doubt, though, it was quickly vanquished by her voice ringing out from the foyer, “You’d better fucking be naked when I get in there...”

When she entered the bedroom, her grin was absolutely mischievous...but that wasn’t the first thing you noticed. That was what she was wearing...or rather, not wearing, given the fact that she wore a trench coat open over lingerie that you were fairly certain cost more than your first car.

You were speechless for so long that her grin only grew. “Cat got your tongue?” she purred, strutting across the room until she stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you. You opened your mouth to reply, but she was quick to reprimand, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you that isn’t Yes, Daddy, do I make myself clear?”

You nodded.

“Now,” she said, “Show me my toy.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, spreading your legs for her, exposing your cunt.

“Such a pretty hole...” she cooed, but didn’t immediately make any motion to take what you were offering her. As if reading your mind, she said, “You didn’t really think I was going to make you feel good, did you?”

“I...” you started, faltered.

She scoffed. “Oh, honey...Daddy’s only here to make sure my toy is in pristine condition, I’m not going to actually play with it today.” Your face immediately fell, causing her to laugh. “Hush now, Pet, Daddy’s got work to do.”

She knelt at the foot of the bed, pulling you forwards sharply so your cunt was at eye level and your legs were slung over her shoulders. “So beautiful,” she said once again. You were surprised when you felt her trail her fingers along the lips of your pussy, touch soft and delicate and far too light for you to get any kind of pleasure from it.

Then, she used her fingers to spread your pussy open so she could get a proper look at it – at your spasming cunt, fluttering uselessly in search of friction she apparently wasn’t going to give you, at your twitching clit, desperate to be touched. She blew a stream of cold air over your clit and you gasped sharply, feeling it throbbing in your desperation for stimulation.

“Daddy...” you whined, desperate and needy. “Daddy, please...”

“I said no.”

With barely there pressure, she brushed her thumb over your clit, just to see how it would react. It wasn’t enough for you – it would never be enough. And she knew it, judging by the way she proceeded to ignore the sensitive bud.

She did just about anything but give you the stimulation you were looking for – with the faintest strokes of her fingers, her lips, teeth, and tongue, she teased you relentlessly. She studied your reactions, the sounds you made, the way you tensed and shuddered and squirmed. She laughed as you nearly sobbed, begging for her to touch you the way you wanted, but never gave in.

Finally, when she was satisfied with her inspection, she stood, stretched. Then, staring down at you imperiously, she said, “Daddy has three rules for my toy. One: you’re to ask for permission every time you want to touch yourself and, if I don’t give it and you touch yourself anyway, I will punish you. Two: you’re at my constant beck and call, twenty-four/seven. If I say jump, you say ‘how high?’. Three: I can do whatever I want with my toy. Your safe word is Squid and it is the only thing I stop for. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

[miasmal-sweetness]

Eye Level

NSFW - MDNI - 18+ ONLY

My brain is currently refusing to cooperate and work on any other writing until I spit out my dumb little one-shot with my favorite trope (size differences) with one of my favorite demons. So here ya go. Hopefully I’ll be back to writing out my planned Cloud fics afterwards.

Eye Level

Summary: Alastor x reader. 4.1k. You're short. You know it, everyone at the hotel knows it. You've assumed that it's some sort of divine punishment for whatever sins you committed while alive, but it's really not so bad, as long as no one hides your step-stool. Today, you've found a new problem with it, though, when you try to get a little closer to your favorite 7-foot-tall demon.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, size difference (reader reaches Alastor’s hips), smut, reader is gender-neutral with reference to having a vagina, reader wears a dress and bloomers, Alastor being sadistic, reader being a masochist, Alastor calls you “good girl” because I’m a sucker for it

The red light of the sky outside is bleeding in to the hotel, burning your eyes and causing an ache in your head. You want to shut it out, but Niffty is busy cleaning all the windows. Rubbing your right temple, you shift on the couch in an attempt to angle yourself away from the worst of the light as you continue to read your book. The words on the page seem harsher than before against the rough, yellowed pages. In addition to Earth’s actual sunlight, you also find yourself missing the convenience of heading out to the pharmacy to pickup some painkillers that weren’t illicit substances.

“Something the matter, dearest?”

You lift your head at the sound of Alastor’s voice. He’s blocking the light as he stands in front of you, his long shadow easing the pain in your head. You have to crane your neck to look at his smiling face, but you’re used to it at this point.

“Oh, I just have a headache,” you say with a light shrug. “I’m okay. How are you doing?”

“Wonderful as always, darling,” he assures. “Why don’t you join me for a cup of coffee upstairs? I’ve found it works like a charm for a headache.”

You perk up at the thought. It’s a little late in the day to have coffee, but you’re not one to turn down a drink and a snack with Alastor. You take care of most of the cooking for the hotel, since Niffty took over your old job of cleaning, so having something made by another person is a nice treat. Plus, he’s good company—he’s the most polite person you think you’ll ever meet in Hell.

“I’d love to,” you say, sliding off of the couch. You smooth out your dress and tuck your book under your arm; you can finish it another time. Your certain that if you were taller, Alastor would do the gentlemanly thing you see him do with others and link arms with you, but that’s not really possible at your height. Instead, he leads the way by engulfing your little hand with his.

You’re barely focused on the small-talk he makes with you as he guides you up the stairs. His gloves are smooth, and you can feel his claws tickling the skin on your wrist and hand. You know that, as much as Alastor enjoys invading other people’s personal space, he does not enjoy allowing others in to his personal space. Despite this, he has been rather open to your presence; picking you up, holding your hand, ruffling your hair. It feels nice. It makes you feel special—like he’s bestowing an honor on you just by patting you on the head, one that the others don’t get.

You nearly trip over a step, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Alastor stops you from hitting the ground by extending his arm, letting you put your weight on him for balance.

“Careful, dearest,” he chides, “I’m not always here to catch you.”

Your headache is back, caused by the heat rushing to your face and chest. “Right, thank you,” you mumble, ducking your head. “I-I was just thinking.”

“About what?” You should have seen that coming.

Your eyes dart around as he guides you towards his room. “Uh, j-just—the book you lent me,” you spit out. “I’m almost finished with it. It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he says, holding open the door for you. “It’s not often I meet another down here that enjoys a good book.”

You smile and step in to his room—immediately, you’re hit by the scent of paper, candles, wood that is well-cared for, and decaying leaves and other plant matter. You know his room changes. You know that what you see is different from what the others see when they enter. You’ve heard them mention the swamp that makes up half of the room, often complete with a decaying deer. Every time he has invited you in, however, it has been nothing other than a lovely room that looks like it belongs in some fancy townhome from the 1920s.

Just another thing that makes you feel special.

“If you have a favorite book, I’d love to read it,” you suggest as you slip out of your shoes.

Alastor’s grin grows even wider than usual. “Really? Well, I’ll have to think about it; I have quite a few in my collection that I favor.” It’s a lie, an excuse to put this off for later. There’s something he doesn’t want you to see. You can sense it, deep down in your gut, but you ignore it. He’s always shielded your eyes from the bad—from the gore of Hell, from those that would try to take advantage of you, even from some of the arguments among the others. This is no different.

Moving on from the topic, Alastor snaps his fingers, and a tray of coffee and small snacks appear on his dining table. He’s added cream and sugar for you; he doesn’t understand your sweet-tooth, but he does indulge it.

“Oh, and a treat for you, little one.”

He snaps his fingers again, and when you next blink your eyes, you find that a dish has appeared on the tray. It’s a slice of cake—the same you remember ogling outside the bakery window the last time you went outside the hotel. The hotel doesn’t offer payment for your services, so your measly pocket change was not enough to get it. He must have noticed your longing for that delicious, soft piece of cake. You don’t even remember the last time you had the luxury of cake. The last time was probably when you were alive, and you have the feeling it was one of those store-bought cakes that are dry and covered in thick, sickeningly sweet icing.

This cake is fancy. This cake is fluffy and standing tall, covered in berries and whipped cream with just the right amount of sweetness. And most of all—it means that Alastor paid that much attention to you on a silly outing that he didn’t need to be a part of.

“Thank you, Alastor!”

You throw out your arms and wrap them around him. It’s a chance as good as any. The closest you have come to hugging him is when he’s picked you up and carried you around like a doll. Surely a gift like this means he would be okay with it—although, the second you touch him, you realize you’re probably reading a little too much in to a slice of cake, and maybe it’s because you forgot to eat lunch.

Your arms wrapped around his legs, your feet in between his. And now you remember just how short you are compared to him. Normally, you’re either staring at the ground or you’re turning your head all the way up to look at his face, which makes it easy to forget that your head reaches an… unfortunate location that you have just unknowingly pushed yourself against.

Your face is burning again. Your head is throbbing. If you weren’t already condemned to Hell, this would probably have gotten you in. Your cheek is right against his groin. You fear looking up at his face for a reaction, but you do it anyway and see that, despite his smile, he looks to be just as shocked as you, if not more. And then it changes. The shock is fading. His eyes are getting darker, and that strange look in his eyes—one that you’ve never seen on him—is directed at you.

You force your body in to action. “I-I’m sorry!” you squawk, stumbling away from him. “Um! I-I just—I was excited; I didn’t mean to—uh, s-sorry, sorry!” You’re clumsily making your way back towards the door, nearly slipping from the lack of friction your socks have on the polished floor.

Alastor takes a step closer to you, and you bristle, picking up the pace. “Ma cher, don’t—”

“Sorry!” you cry one last time, slipping out the door and in to the safety of the hallway. You dash to the end of it and around a corner, where you wait to hear any signs of him following. Nothing. The only thing you hear is your own racing heart and the blood rushing through your body. You feel hot, shaky, and a little sweaty—your feet are sweating through your socks.

Your socks.

You forgot your fucking shoes in his room.

Groaning, you sink down to the floor and peel off your socks, freeing your overheated feet. You replay the event in your mind as you stare emptily at your toes, wiggling them all one by one. You just had to go and try to hug him—you couldn’t just be patient and wait for him to one day, just maybe, initiate it himself. At the very least, you could have been more careful. You think it might have been a nice hug otherwise. You can still feel the crisp fabric of his pants and the warmth he radiates; you can smell the light scent of smoke and cologne on his clothes. The button of his pants had been against your cheek, and you have no control against the intrusive thought of how the bulge in his pants had felt.

Smacking your cheeks with your palms, you shake your head, as though it would toss the thought out. You need to stop being a little creep and get your shoes. You have one pair of shoes, and you are not willing to walk barefoot anywhere in Pentagram City. The longer you leave them there, the more likely you are to abandon them entirely in hopes of never having a confrontation with Alastor. Well… maybe you could ask Charlie to get you a new pair of shoes? You groan at yourself; you’re already trying to get out of it.

You push yourself to your feet and dust off the skirt of your dress. You take quiet, slow steps towards his room. You can do this. Just don’t think about it. Did he like it? No, stop it. Did it excite him, like it excited you? Stop that! You’re wet—maybe from fear, maybe from arousal. Your hands are shaking as you reach for the doorknob. You contemplate whether it would be best to knock or simply crack the door open and grab your shoes without entering. Alastor is polite, though; you know he’d much rather you be decent and knock.

Heart racing, chest heaving with tiny and anxious breaths, you tap your knuckles against the door. It opens almost immediately.

“Yes, dearest? Have you calmed down now?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at his face; instead, you resort to looking at your bare feet. “I—um, I realized I forgot my shoes here,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

He laughs at this—it makes you shiver, and you hope he doesn’t notice. “You were in quite the hurry,” he teases. “What scared you so badly, darling?”

You mean to simply snatch your shoes and flee, but the moment you cross the threshold, he’s closed the door behind you. Your heart is pounding, as though it thinks you’re sprinting down a hallway from a monster. But it’s just Alastor! He’s never harmed you, only kept you safe—and yet, you feel like you’re caught in a trap. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating from behind you; he’s close, and for once, you wish he’d be less comfortable with you in his personal space. Despite this, you can’t bring your dumb feet to move. You are caught like a deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, pet?” He’s never called you that before. It’s new and exciting, even though you internally scold yourself for the warm feeling building up in the depths of your gut. “Why have you gone quiet? You’re not ignoring me, are you?”

His fingers ghost over your hair as he speaks, his hand finally coming to rest on your shoulder. It’s not as though you’re hiding your discomfort well, but that doesn’t stop him. Alastor’s left hand comes from behind you and cups your chin, slowly drawing you back until your spine touches his leg. You shut your eyes. You won’t look at him; it makes you feel at least a little less exposed, even if you know he can see the red in your face all the same.

“I don’t appreciate the silent treatment, dearest,” he warns, giving your cheeks a squeeze. “I guess I’ll have to find a way to snap you out of it.”

You’re lifted off of your feet; the sudden feeling of instability makes you open your eyes, even though you try to resist. Before you can register it, Alastor has dropped you on his bed—a bed that seems rarely used—and is now kneeling before you.

“You’ve been terribly rude, pet,” he chides, resting his hand on your knee. “First you get so close to me, then you run off and leave me wanting? Now you come back and refuse to say a word to me.” He clicks his tongue in disdain; its the feeling of his claws digging in to your skin that truly express his displeasure. You shift in place, but keep your mouth sealed. Your mind is blank, anyhow.

When his claws pierce your skin, you move out of reflex, jerking your leg away from his hand. Alastor’s grip is iron-clad and holds you in place so tightly that you can’t even move it a millimeter. Your skin feels hot and cold at the same time, and goosebumps are running up and down your arms. Your mind is getting hazy, to the point that your vision blurs as his other hand creeps up the skirt of your dress.

You try to control your breaths, try to look anywhere other than him. He’s relishing the sight of you as his fingers curl around the waistband of your frilly bloomers. He grips your hip harshly—you know it will leave a reminder in the form of a bruise later. His thumb lightly brushes over your clit, and your toes curl in response. It’s like he’s fascinated by the response your body has to it; he’s watching every twitch, shiver, and shake as he toys with you. Finally, a mewl escapes your lips. Something about the noise draws him out of whatever it is that he’s thinking, and he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman, darling,” he says, relaxing his grip on you. “So… yes or no?”

This is closer to the Alastor you’re familiar and comfortable with. He looks so calm and pleased that it’s like it’s just another day for him, one where he does not have his hand in your underwear and he’s just making you feel special by gracing you with a pat on your head. The familiarity is reassuring, and you’re such a sucker for how special he makes you feel, so surely there’s no harm in this…

“Yes,” you finally eke out.

Alastor’s grin widens; his thumb immediately resumes teasing you. His other hand strokes up and down your thigh, his claws tickling you and leaving red streaks in their wake. You moan again and are met with the reminder of his watchful gaze; unable to take the feeling of scrutiny anymore, you grab the lapel of his coat and tug on it.

You hear him chuckle and crack your eyes open again. He’s released you—for now—to shrug off his coat and set it aside.

“An eye for an eye, pet?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to agree to this suggestion; he pops open the buttons on the back of your dress in one quick motion. Your dress is pulled from your body, leaving you and your bloomers entirely exposed. You instinctively cover your chest with your forearm. This is hardly an eye for an eye—and you know, deep down, that he knows that and enjoys every bit of imbalance between you two. And you do, too, even if you don’t want to admit it.

His hands are on you again, this time running up and down your waist, back, thighs, and chest. He’s parting your legs and moving in between them, leaning down to press his lips to your throat. You whimper, now suffocated by the dizzying smell of tobacco. Alastor gives you a gentle peck, before his teeth graze your delicate skin and earn a moan from you. You instinctively bristle from the delightful pain, and he pushes your legs apart again.

“Relax, sha,” he murmurs against your neck. “Relax. Would I let you get hurt?”

Yes. He absolutely would. You know that, and you stuff it down. Who cares? Who cares if you get a little hurt? If he lets it happen? If he’s the one to do it, if he’s the one watching and enjoying it, that’s all that really matters.

So you relax for him and melt in to his touch, letting him guide you down to the soft bed. You don’t resist when your bloomers come off. You’re completely exposed to him, and he’s simply standing over you, grinning at the sight. The one sacrifice he does make is his gloves, shedding them to feel your skin in its full glory. His hands are much warmer without his gloves on; the feeling of them rubbing your legs is soothing.

“Alastor,” you mewl—for a moment, you realize just how pathetic and weak you sound, but decide that it’s fine to be pathetic and weak for him and slip back in to your haze. For every inch of fog clouding your mind, Alastor seems to gain a new degree of focus. You can’t tell exactly what it is he’s so focused on, so hungry for, but you enjoy it all the same.

“You sound so lovely when you say my name.” His voice sounds so different now—animalistic, growling. Your heart rate spikes again, but you’re not about to back out now, so you enjoy the adrenaline rush as you gaze up at the ceiling. You hear a shift of fabric, feel him moving between your legs as he looms over you. He slips one hand underneath you to feel the small of your back, and you finally realize what he’s about to—

“Ahh!” you hiss, curling your spine as you reflexively try to escape the source of the pain. You’re brought back to the reality of your situation for a brief moment; Alastor is over seven feet tall, you are definitely not, and he is definitely entirely proportionate for his height. It hurts, worse than anything you think you’ve felt before. You feel like you’re splitting open, despite how wet you are and the fact that he’s barely inside of you.

Alastor’s hands hold you in place by your hip and your arm. You can feel his own excitement and agitation from the tightness of his grip—so tight he’s trembling in the slightest—and the hint of sweat on his palms. “Behave, sha,” he orders through his teeth. He’s trying to suppress your squirming as much as possible, but you can still wriggle in his grip, and every movement of your hips sends a wave of pleasure through him. “Relax and behave.”

Your body is slowly adjusting to the pain, and his voice is bringing you back to that lovely, pleasurable haze. You force yourself to stay still and breathe through it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs with a sigh. “Good girl.” You shudder at the words, and he pushes himself further inside of you. You don’t struggle this time; you simply yelp in pain and squeeze your eyes shut to bear it. He releases your arm to grab you by your chin, forcing your head up. You open your eyes, your face contorted in pain; he’s smiling, of course. It’s a feral, sadistic smile, but it’s not quite the same one you’ve seen before he rips apart some idiot trying to wreck the hotel. This one is different, and you hope it’s one he’s reserved only for you. No matter how frightening it is, you’ll still delight in the honor.

You manage to relax a little more, having adjusted to the feeling of being torn in two. Alastor sighs at the feeling and once again pushes further inside of you. Every effort of yours to behave will be rewarded like this—with more pain, blood, and tears that prick your eyes. You had your chance to say no. You still could. But you don’t. You’re special. He wants you. And you want him—you want him to degrade you, too.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, sha?” he coos in a tone of faux concern. Still, you whimper and nod, curling your fingers in to the linens beneath you. “I know, pet, I know. It must hurt terribly.” Another inch inside of you, another swallowed scream.

“P-please,” you beg. You barely even realize the words are spilling out of your mouth. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

“You can,” he assures, his hand moving down to your throat. No matter how much he wants to, he doesn’t squeeze. Not yet. He’ll save that for another time, another day. There’s nothing wrong with denying a bit of pleasure now to make it sweeter later. “You can and you will. I will make you.”

You try to scream when you feel the sensation of a burning, sharp pain pierce further inside of you, but he clamps his hand over your mouth.

“No,” he breathes. “You won’t make a sound unless you’re quiet about it. I am the only one who can hear you. This is just for me.”

You swallow back the scream; it feels like it’s still stuck in your chest, making it ache as it tries to beat its way out through your sternum. It’s too painful to breathe. Every single movement is painful. This is as far as he can go without really hurting you—without you truly breaking apart. You can smell blood. You feel like you can maybe taste it, too. The sight of it only spurs him on, and he pounds in to you without any concern for the pain it will cause you.

You can’t even scream; it’s too sudden. Once the waves of pain truly set in, you let out a weak cry and grab on to his arms in an effort to steady yourself. Spots of all colors are appearing in your vision as the sounds of the room—skin against skin, muffled groans that he’s trying to hold back, your own crying—get further and further away. Your grip on him loosens, and he notices.

“I can’t keep going if you’re sleeping, pet,” Alastor taunts, grabbing you by your chin and squeezing. When your pupils only dilate further, he takes a handful of your hair and pulls, giving your head a shake. That does it; you’re awake enough, for now. “There you are.”

You can’t escape the pain. You just have to live with it. Any time he sees you slipping out of consciousness, you’re awakened with a sharp jolt of pain. And now his movements are too fast, too harsh to even begin to pass out. Tears freely flow down your face at this point, as freely as the blood pooling beneath your thighs.

“A-Alastor,” you sob, one hand reaching up for him. “Please.”

The pathetic sight of you stupidly reaching for him is what sends him over the edge. His claws curl in to your skin, and blood drips on to the linens beneath you. He’s looming over you as you feel warmth replace the feeling of an icy knife in your belly, spilling out of you and on to your legs. His eyes are closed, he’s panting, and his brow is furrowed. You like the sight of it, but you can’t fully enjoy it when he’s still causing you so much pain.

Finally, his eyes open, and he pulls away from you without warning, sending another ripple of pain through you. You’re throbbing. You feel like you’ve been impaled and suffocated. You definitely did not cum. And yet, when the look on his face softens, the pain lessens. He’s back to the gentleman you know and adore.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, resting his cheek against his hand—a hand covered in your blood. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

As he helps you bathe and feeds you a potion to help heal some of your wounds, you let that haze settle in permanently in a part of your brain. As long as he makes you feel special, as long as he calls you sweetheart and pet and sha, you’ll take whatever pain he throws at you.