#and whacked out hormones from years of overeating

[wellthatsclever]

...

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tumblr.com/corroded-hellfire/743622480481107968/reading-ayw-things-has-me-thinking-about-eddie-and

I loved this request! To add on the baby fever, but this has a little bit of sadness, when baby Eliza looses that newborn baby scrunch, meaning that she's no more a newborn and she's growing. I was loosing it when my cousin did this (we're like 5 years apart)

For those unfamiliar with the newborn scrunch: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFYCP6t/

THE NEWBORN SCRUNCH! It is the cutest of cuteness. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel when I someday have a baby and they stop doing this lol. Probably react like Reader, ngl 😂

Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Eddie, Eddie should get kneed in the balls for suggesting having another baby so soon after Reader giving birth

Words: 1.2k

“Well, good morning my little cutie pie.”

Eliza gazes up at you from her bassinet, her little legs kicking within the confines of her pink teddy bear footie pajamas. 

“Morning, sweet pea.” Eddie comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder as he smiles down at your infant daughter. 

“Ready to get up and start the day?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. Eliza has gotten on a more consistent sleep schedule, but you’re still nowhere close to your preferred eight hours. ��Babe, can you grab an outfit for her?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie barely takes two steps towards the door to head across the hall to the nursery before hearing you whimper. He immediately spins back around and takes in the situation with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You’re still facing the bassinet, Eliza held out in front of you. Eddie can see the baby hanging from your grip, her eyes going over your shoulder to squint at her father.

Slowly, you turn to face him, hugging Eliza to your chest. Eddie sees the tears building up in your eyes and comes to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“S-She…” You sniffle and shake your head, unable to vocalize it. Her soft downy hair tickles your cheek as you cradle her. “She didn��t do the scrunch.”

Your husband’s face pinches up into a confused frown. His eyes slide to the left, then right, trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about. 

“The…scrunch?” he asks. 

“The scrunch!” you whine. “The newborn scrunch!”

By the petulant tone of your voice, Eddie is pretty sure that you would’ve stomped your foot on the ground like a child if you weren’t holding your baby. The look on his face clearly conveys that he has no idea what you’re talking about because you sigh and continue to explain without any further nudge.

“You know how when you pick her up her little legs pull up towards her chest? Like she’s curling in on herself?”

“Oh,” Eddie says as it dawns on him. “Yeah, yeah, now I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do it when I picked her up.” The wobble in your voice is clear and noticeable even before Eddie sees your bottom lip trembling. “She’s not my newborn anymore.”

“Of course she is,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of your back and rubbing soothing circles there. “She’s only six weeks old.”

“She's already six weeks old!” you cry, the tears finally falling free past the lash line. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckles, not unkindly, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away. 

“S’not funny,” you mumble, gently resting your head against your daughter’s.

Strong, warm arms wrap around you from the side, and you’re pulled up against a solid frame. A few soft kisses are pressed to the side of your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” he coos. “I think it’s cute, though.”

“Cute that I’m emotional over our baby growing up?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but Eddie knows you don’t mean any harm by it. All of your hormones are still out of whack from pregnancy and giving birth. 

The end of her scrunch is just the first sign of her growing up. Suddenly you see her walking, saying her first words, going to her first day of pre-school, learning to ride a bike, having her first relationship, going to prom, graduating high school. The cherry on top is her packing up the car to head to college. More tears sting the back of your eyes at the thought. All of a sudden, her mere six weeks seem like a flash in the pan. 

“I think you’re cute,” Eddie amends. “Eliza’s still our newborn, though. She’s going to get stronger, and her little habits and cues are going to change, but she still needs her Mommy and Daddy for everything. Hell, I don’t think the boys could survive without us, either.”

Logic doesn’t always help even out the emotions, but your husband’s attempt does break through the surface. With a soft sniffle, you nod your head in agreement. Of course, Eliza is still your newborn and completely dependent on you. It doesn’t mean that you won’t have the same emotional upheaval when she can hold her head up on her own for the first time, but it’s comforting right now. 

Eddie has been doing a great job of letting you be a first-time mom and have all the emotions and experiences that go along with it, but sometimes his experience of having had two babies already helps ground you. 

“You’re right.” You exhale a deep breath and nod your head. “But I am still going to miss the scrunch.”

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then, huh? Since you’re going to miss the scrunch,” your husband teases.

Slowly, you turn your head and give him a playful glare. The doctor just gave you the okay to start having sex again. The thought of pushing another baby out of your poor aching body is enough to threaten Eddie with never having sex again. 

“When you give birth, we can have all the babies you want,” you say.

Eddie laughs and presses a few kisses against your hair.

“Deal. Alright, let me go get her some clothes.” Eddie gives your side a loving squeeze before heading out into the hallway.

“Daddy’s right,” you say to Eliza as you gently rock her. “You’re still my new baby girl. I mean, look at these little fingers!” You offer her one of your index fingers and her fist instinctively curls around it. A smile grows on your face as you lift her small hand to your lips and press quick kisses against her knuckles. 

“Babe?” Eddie says as he grabs onto the bedroom door frame and leans into the room. “Where’s her yellow polka dot onesie? The one with the pink buttons.”

“Hmm?” You look at Eddie over your shoulder before turning to face him properly. “Oh, I packed it away a few days ago. She doesn’t fit into it anymore.”

Eddie frowns as he lets go of the doorframe and takes a few stumbling steps into the room. His messy bedhead sways with the movement.

“What?”

“Yeah, the buttons wouldn’t stretch to snap shut anymore,” you tell him.

A harsh sigh makes you look up at your husband. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s a frighteningly similar look to when Luke is told he can’t have cookies before dinner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That was my favorite outfit of hers,” Eddie huffs.

You try your best to hide a smile, but biting your lip can only do so much. Now you realize what Eddie meant when he called you “cute” moments ago. Your husband’s pouting is currently rivaling Eliza’s adorableness. 

“It’s okay, Eds,” you tell him.

“How many clothes did you pack?” he asks, coming closer to you.

“A bunch of newborn ones that are too small now.”

“Eliza,” Eddie whines. He rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab her tiny foot. “Why you getting so big? Stop growing up.”

It’s impossible for you not to chuckle at his words. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

[pampushky]

i hate the air he breathes his foolish decrees

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 2 - 5k

woooo welcome to part 2 my loves! sorry for the slight wait. I've been doing hot bitch shit (my actual job). but now we're back. enjoy the fuck out of it. TW: no mention of abuser other than as him. mentions of abandonment and severe physical trauma in the form of a house fire. lore drop on the main character too!!

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Mid-March 2005. Los Angeles.

Niki gets a call from an unknown number that wakes him up from a deep slumber, and he hardly has any time to think as he’s pulling a sweater over his head and forgoing a hat entirely. It’s his third day in as your legal guardian, and you’re already transferred to a state-of-the-art hospital in Los Angeles, across the country from where you’d lived previously. A newer set of mountains. A city to the hamlet you’d once known, hidden away in the foggy mountains of North Carolina.  

As he blearily walks into the hospital lobby, there’s already a small team of doctors waiting for him, explaining rapidly what's happening to you as they walk him up to your room in the burn ward. You’re in the best hospital for burns on the continent— Niki had made sure of it. Had paid for the flight over here two days ago, with a medical staff on board to keep you stable during the five-hour flight. 

The doctors swarming around your unconscious form resemble vultures. The burn center director explains everything to him when they finally get to your room. The rapid medical treatment nearly made you present early. Freakishly early, by all standards. It’s understood to have been a panic response by your body— because you're on the brink of death in the burn ward, your hormones so out of whack that for whatever reason, your brain had gone, ‘Oh, yes, it’s time to do that now.’

Studies had shown that those in areas where the risk of death was high often presented much earlier, with other cases that also supported something known as “panic presentation”. You’re an extreme example of the latter. But it had never been seen to this degree. You need to be knocked out for several days, going comatose while a team of doctors works around the clock to save your life while it seems likely you will melt away like the first snowfall on a sun-warmed road as it seems new complications get piled onto your case file every day. The way the doctor talks about you makes Niki feel like you’re more of a specimen meant for study, and not a pup who’d just lost her Dam. 

Marlene has already decorated the sterile room to reflect more on a child’s room. And wherever there’s an empty space on a table, she’s placed down vases full of fresh flowers. Flowering dogwood. That’s what the state flower was of North Carolina, and however early in the season for blooming it was, she managed to find fresh ones every day. Now, Marlene was back at the hotel, settling a new wave of interest about your identity while Niki tried to figure out what he was going to do with you when he's lead into the room.

You’re already on several new medications to prevent you from presenting early, having them inserted in through an IV and eventually, to be taken as a pill when you could swallow. You'll be on these same medications until you’re seven or eight, when they can start to consider weaning you off of them to let you present then because it’ll be safer. Niki hates the idea of you presenting even then. You should be almost fully grown when you present. Not— not still a pup. With baby teeth still in your mouth. You should be wrestling. Learning to access your canine form, and causing mayhem like his sons had. 

So he does what he’s been doing for the past five days. Niki sits quietly by your side in your private room. Holding your tiny hand while a machine breathes for you, not even five years old, and fighting for your life. Completely unaware of the complications your existence has thrown straight into Niki’s lap, dredging up old, old wounds that his sons have yet to recover from.

Because the great complication is that you’re his biological grandchild. 

Through a son, a beta, that neither Lukas nor Mathias had gotten to know. Or Niki, for that matter. But here you are. The only link to that son. To the ultimate undoing of his marriage and mating, his infidelity thrown back in his face in the form of a sedated, traumatized pup that can’t understand him through his accent.

Left without a dam, your mother. Lost to the roaring flames of a housefire that you’d somehow survived. Part of Niki wants to know how his son had ended up in the area, and if there are any other new descendants he should know about. So he petitions the court to gain access to your files before he legally adopts you, and he stares down at them before finally lifting the cover of the manila folder and starts to read.

All the files seem to stare right on back at Niki as he continues to pour through them, officially five minutes and nine seconds into being your legal guardian. They’re meticulous, just as expected— it had become standard for anyone who’d had so much as a visit to a hospital to create a DNA profile, especially after they presented. His affair child’s profile stares back at him, with what he can only assume is an up-to-date photo. Male. Beta. Signed away parental rights before birth. Austrian nationality. That’s all you have to go on for your biological father’s identity. 

That’s all that linked Niki to you, and how the social worker had managed to contact him. All other positive matches from your father’s side are his former mistress as your biological grandmother and his two sons with Marlene as your uncles. There are no other pups listed for his affair child. No other grandchildren that he has to worry about. Your dam’s profile is more complete. A smiling picture of her holding you as an infant, left by her family.

Female. Omega. Deceased. American nationality, born in Banner Elk, North Carolina. 

And under that:

Dam’s pack signed away pack and next of kin rights to the pup. Relevant health history is accessible through the International UN DNA database. Pack requested no contact order until the pup has reached legal age, or unless the pup does not survive her time in hospital, so they may bury her in the family plot with her Dam.

This makes a chill run down Niki’s spine. Your pack had… signed you away? The only people who had been familiar to you— and they had signed away their rights as though you were more of a burden than anything, only asking for you back if you were dead. It makes him shudder, as he looks down at your tiny body again, for what must have been the thousandth time since he’s been introduced to you. Since he’d so quickly agreed to become your legal guardian, your legal sire. Covered in bandages and hooked up to dozens of wires. 

The social worker explained that signing you away was them not wanting to pay for the massive medical bill, along with the scandal your birth had caused in the small community. Your Dam was unmated, and even worse, unmarried, raising you on her own in a less-than-up-to-code cabin her late father had left her, further out in the mountains, a thirty-minute drive into town. 

The matriarch of her pack had been well-regarded in the area— it was an open secret that she was looking for any excuse to remove you from the picture. This just happened to be the perfect excuse. How was she going to be able to pay for your medical costs on her own when it was just her? All the advanced treatments you’d need— it would be too much in her old age.

When told about the Children’s Health Insurance Programs that could easily provide care for you, your grand-dam had just made a sour face and told the Social Worker she was still signing away her rights. Her surviving children were quick to follow her lead.

What a backward system. Niki had growled to himself, pacing in the room. Reading the reports from the insurance company he’d managed to legally bully his way into receiving from your biological family. 

The cabin had burnt down in nearly an hour. You’d been trapped under a metal bed frame when the roof collapsed in on itself. When they’d found you, it had been a recovery effort for bodies. And despite it all, you’d survived, your whimpering and crying alerting the firefighters that you were alive. Severely burnt, with the old mattress and polyester blankets having melted and dripped across your little body as the embers settled. Half of your body severely burnt from where the flames could still reach you. Crying out for your Dam even as you were airlifted to the nearest hospital with a functioning burn ward.

Going over your files has become a habit for first past three days. Ever since Marlene had gone silent when Niki told her that he was going to adopt you, before brusquely starting to order furniture and calling countless contractors that a new pup-friendly room be added to his house in Hof. He’s lucky to at least be considered a friend of his former mate, otherwise, he would be stumbling through his second round of parenting. He looks down at the newest addition to his pack. You. Four and a half. With burns covering an incredible amount of your body. Nearly 45% percent of your torso, completely mangling one of your legs, crawling up your neck and dancing across your jaw. Now lying in a medically-induced coma to conserve your energy. 

You wake up nearly two days later. Five days into Niki’s tenure as your legal sire. Unable to scream. Eyes fixed on Niki as your little chest heaves with the effort it takes to breathe. You pull at your IV and try to snap at a nurse who tries to stop you. But your eyes are still fixed on Niki, likely horrified by his burns. You were glancing at your own bandaged arms and body as if to gauge how you would one day look. 

There is a wild look in your eyes as you look at him. The way you tremble as the doctors try to explain everything. It hurts Niki’s heart, especially with the gasping noise you let out before they sedate you again when you’re still not responding well to anything. Niki wants to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go. You mumble something out as you drift away again, tears in the corners of your eyes. Foggy eyes on the extravagant bouquets of flowers on the tables beside your bed and across the room.

Where is my Dam? 

Early February 2024. Woking.

Your left leg was acting up again. It always did when you were stressed. The fire had mangled it— and that was putting it lightly. Not bad enough to amputate, because that would be too easy, and they didn’t want to send your body into even more shock. So you had your crispy, chicken-fried, useless leg. You could put some weight on it now, after nearly twenty years of intense therapy and correcting surgeries. But it was still incredibly weak. All twisted, mottled skin and a full knee replacement.

That’s what had made it so easy for him. That’s what had made it easy for him to chase you down as you tried to leave every situation that saw him near you. Easily able to keep pace with your shambling, stress-induced walk as you choked on his scent. 

Your upper thigh twinges. The needle pierces your skin all over again. That was the only reason you’d been able to walk away without experiencing a true heat from whatever drug he’d hit you with. The bad, mangled leg of yours. Your downfall and savior. 

The halls are winding, but you can vaguely follow the way to your office from previous talks. You call Lewis the moment you get to the room. There’s already a brand-new mini fridge sitting on your desk, likely from the accommodations you’d listed in the countless documents you’d had to sign when you got hired. 

There’s a few people unboxing your items and they look a bit shocked to see you back from what was supposed to be a much longer meeting.

“Ms Lauda—”

“Leave, please,” you whisper while pacing across the room, trying to calm yourself down. You can feel your scent-blocking, adhesive strips tingling. Your scent glands, especially the damaged ones, threatening to blister from the stress of what just happened. You were going to be sacked for certain. Not only had you yelled at the driver you were meant to work with, you’d also thrown an empty can at him. “I’d like some space.”

The workers, your new assistants, you realize, hurry out, not even catching your mumbled thanks as you tuck yourself into a corner where you can’t be seen from the door. So much different than Williams. So much more support. Lewis doesn’t pick up immediately, but just as you’re about to call again, his contact photo appears on your screen. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay—” Is the first thing you hear, like the protective older brother he’s always situated himself as in your life. “What room are you in? I still haves ways to get into the classified parts of the MTC—” 

“I’m going to fucking kill Lando Norris,” You growl into the phone, and Lewis lets out a relieved noise, before breaking off into a fit of laughter, his voice more distant as if he’s trying to muffle himself. “Don’t laugh! That fucking brat, I should box his goddamn ears, showing up nearly an hour late to what was supposed to be our initial meeting—” 

“Ah, yeah, sounds like Lando!” 

“Fuck off, Lewis,” You whine, and he has the audacity to laugh even harder, because your accent slips, as it always seems to do when you’re with your immediate pack. You can hear him shuffle a bit. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” You concede to him with a soft sigh. You hear the chortling barks of Roscoe in the background of Lewis’s call. “I’m gonna do my job. But I’m gonna hate it. Unless I get switched to Oscar.”

“Don’t sound too hopeful.” Lewis chides on the other side of the phone, and you hear the doorknob jiggle, followed by a soft knock. “Sounds like you have some work to do.” 

He hangs up before you can say something in response to him, leaving the gentle knocking on the door to slowly drive you insane. Likely Andrea or Zak, telling you that you were going to be let go for committing a minor assault against their star driver. 

And you're right, it is Zak. But he looks more concerned than angry with you, immediately putting his hands up in a placating manner when you open the door as if you’re the one with all the power and he’s not the CEO of McLaren Racing, your ultimate boss. Your boss’s boss. The one who bulldozed his way into getting you on the team because he’d seen your work to get at least a modicum of respect back to Williams, and, in his own words, got a good vibe from you.

(And maybe Niki had been in his ear a little bit about it, but when Niki Lauda spoke, people had a habit of listening rather closely to whatever he said.)

“Mr. Brown,” You start formally, leaning down in a way that is traditionally seen as submitting and a very, very formal way to apologize before he starts to squawk in surprise at it all. 

“Don’t– What are you submitting for— are you alright?!”

The last thing you expect is Zak fretting over you like you’re a pup. He’s gently squishing your cheeks with his hands, checking you over, and you can see his nose twitching, as if he’s checking your scent for any signs of distress. Only to look confused by how… clean, you smell.

“Are you— are you still hurt from everything?”

“No, I just,” You take a step backward, and hold up your hands just like he had just been doing for you a few seconds ago. “It’s easier to hide my designation when I smell like this.”

He just looks confused at your explanation but doesn’t seem to question it.

“And you… want to continue hiding it?”

“Preferably.”

Even as you say it, you can see a bit of pity in his eyes. You know his mate is an omega. He has a pup who’s an omega. Both of which he supports wholeheartedly. You’d seen all the articles. Part of you is jealous. Another part just wants everyone to stop caring about what your designation may be. Why should anyone care what you are? 

You’re proud of yourself, regardless of your designation. You’re not some prize to be won! You can stand on your own two feet, you can take care of yourself. You had more than shown that—

Zak is hugging you. Rumbling softly like any parent would do for a distressed pup.

“You don’t have to justify it. I just need to know so I can make sure that no one else is told, aside from our medical people.” He whispers, and you sag against him. Relief fills your mind. “What— what do people think you’ve presented as?”

“Alpha. Like Vati. They think I’m an Alpha.” 

“We can work with that,” Zak pulls away, looking at you. There’s only worry in his eyes. “Can I ask one more thing?”

“Yeah,” You sniffle, not realizing you’d starting to tear up as you look at him. “What is it?”

“Why…. did you throw an empty can of Red Bull at Lando? You’re not in trouble, I just want to know why.”

You flush, and Zak just starts to laugh. 

McLaren is much, much different than Williams.

Lando has been sitting in a chair while Oscar screams at him. Andrea has disappeared. It’s been ten minutes and all he wants to do is curl up and die and apologize for commenting on your voice and being late and not charging his phone and really, every other thing that he’d done wrong, ever.

Yes. He is technically the older one. No, he shouldn’t be acting like such a pup over this.  

Yes. He should know better than to comment on things that people can’t change or help about themselves.

Yes, Oscar, Lando was aware that you had survived a very traumatic house fire that nearly killed you. No, it’s not okay that he called you a robotic bitch. No, he didn’t read the email about the apparent triggers that you had from this event. Frankly, he wasn’t even aware that they had emailed those to him. That seemed like a bit much.

“I mean seriously, Lando! This is ridiculous! Fucking calling her that!” 

It feels like he’s being lectured by his Dam again, her words blending English into Flemish until he can’t tell what she’s saying, just that she’s pissed at him. Instead, it’s just Oscar’s accent getting thicker and thicker until Lando’s certain he’s never heard anyone sound so furious with him, and that’s really saying something. 

“I get it,” Lando whines, letting his head slip so that he can press his forehead against the table. And he does feel bad! Really! “I didn’t know she’d respond like that!”

“Wonderful excuse to be a fuckhead, champ,” Oscar drawls, eyes narrowed. His arms are folded. He looks unimpressed. He smells more, now than ever, of rotting oranges. Lando can imagine the maggots. “I’m shocked you didn’t comment on her designation as well.”

“She’s an alpha! And she smells so medicine-y,” Lando wrinkles his nose, lifting up his head enough to glare at the omega in front of him. Oscar’s face is a blank mask of annoyance, with a flicker of some other mystery emotion. But he can at least tell what he’s thinking because he can smell his displeasure from across the room. It’s all rotten oranges, burning rubber, and singed hair. “C’mon! I didn’t know it’d set her off that much, man!”

“Commenting on traumatic events tends to do that to people.”

“How was I supposed to know it was traumatic?!”

“Wow, you really didn’t read any of the emails,” Oscar lets out a low huff, sitting across from Lando in one of the plush office chairs. “We’ve been in talks with her for weeks!”

“You were in talks with her, maybe,” Lando says snidely, narrowing his gaze at the omega across from him, “I didn’t think I needed a new race engineer, yet here we are. But you seemed awfully interested when you heard she was looking for a new team.”

Oscar scoffs. His cheeks turn slightly pink. “No, I wasn’t. She’s a good friend. I thought she’d be a good fit for the team.”

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the fact that you have such an obvious crush on her? I bet Logan even helped set you up,” Lando knows he’s been a dick again. But he’s frustrated. He’ll get lectured by his therapist for this later, and he’s okay with that. He just needs to make Oscar squirm a little for his high-and-mighty attitude. “You want her pups, I bet. Already have the first three named.”

“Fuck off,” Oscar snarls, and Lando decides to keep digging a bit more. “It’s not like that! Besides— I’m courting someone!”

An awkward silence settles between the two. Oscar’s flushed pink. And Lando starts to grin. All evil like, in Oscar’s opinion. Gleefully, in his own. 

"Oh, but it is!” Lando chimes, his voice all sing-songy. He’s in full older brother mode. He knows exactly what to do to push Oscar’s buttons now that his teammate has shown his weakness. He’s done this with his sisters. And Oscar’s probably used to being the one doing the tormenting, as his family’s oldest pup. “You like her!” And then, with a very dramatic gasp, “Oh, you’re probably courting her! No wonder you wanted her here!”

Without so much as a warning, the Australian driver leaps at him with a snarl the moment the words are out of his mouth. They’re both tussling on the ground, before it turns into the two of them in their canine forms, snapping and snarling at each other. This is when Andrea decides to make a reappearance, looking a bit startled to see a mousy-brown wolf and a dark-brown wolf rolling around on the floor of the conference room. Oscar is large for an omega in his canine form, but still smaller than Lando. Lando is wirey, not as bulky as many would expect an Alpha to be. It’s rather evenly matched, considering how often the two of them are training. 

One moment, Lando has Oscar pinned. Another, Oscar has him pinned. Snarling and biting and kicking until the door opens again, and now it’s Andrea, Zak, and yourself watching the two of them wrestle until you fearlessly walk into the fray and grab Oscar by one of his hind legs.

Oscar turns human again immediately, hitting the ground with a loud ‘oof’ while Lando scurries away, watching as you start to lecture the other driver as he stands up. Your tone is hushed, but it’s clear that this seems to be a common occurrence between the two of you. You’re leaning over him, and the rumblings of annoyance and displeasure are clear as day.

Lando can’t help but smirk as the other man makes fleeting eye contact with him as you sit on his side of the table, taking your place as his engineer, despite your obvious contempt for him. 

“Now, let's get to business…” Andrea sighs. You keep your eyes ahead. Hands folded neatly in front of you. Letting his words blur until you feel Oscar gently tugging on your arm. He looks concerned, and you smile tiredly at him. Only just remembering the promise of cuddling in his nest with him when this was all done. 

You don’t even care if you look or act nothing like the Alpha that Lando thinks you are. You just slump against Oscar with a grumpy half-whine as he hoists you over his shoulder. The other driver lets out a loud snort at that, and your friend only glares at him, about to say something else before you bring one of your hands to tap his cheek lightly.

“Just get to th’nest,” You mumble, leaning against him. Your leg aches. You don’t want to walk. “Wanna get th’blockers off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oscar sighs, glaring at Lando over his shoulder before walking past with you in his arms. You don’t care about how it looks. You’ll deal with it later. And before you know it, you’re curled in the world’s comfiest nest, all in shades of orange and black. With the comforting scent of sweet tangerines and charcoal. Oscar hands you a nice little bottle of micellar water to help get the sticky adhesive of the blockers off, much more gentle with your skin than you ever are with yourself. He’s even soaked cotton rounds to make it a bit easier to apply, gently rubbing them across your scarred glands to clear any remnants of the adhesive off of your skin.

The smells of mountain rain and fresh baked peach cobbler mix with Oscar’s scent as you stretch, rubbing your cheeks tiredly.

You let yourself relax then. Sinking deep into the soft pillows as Oscar comes to spoon you from behind. A commonplace action, and had been since he started to get more and more bold with you in his attempts to court you. 

You can hear Oscar start to Facetime someone, probably Logan. But you honestly don’t care all that much— he’s there, and you’ll give your friend a full debrief, of course, after you’ve fully rested. 

“Your leg acting up?”

Oscar nudges you, and you grumble, trying to press your face further into the plushness of the nest, voice muffled by pillows. “Who cares if it is?”

“I do.”

“So do I!” Logan chimes in from the phone, and you roll over enough to glare at him. “Did you take all your meds, mouse?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So I’m afraid you’ll just have to put me down at this point—”

You don’t even have time to respond as Oscar cuffs your ear. You let out a dramatic whine, actually letting yourself act on your instinctual noises. Nothing hurts, of course. Oscar’s always been gentle, making sure nothing actually hurts when he wrestles with you or cuffs your ears. 

“Did you have to get my bad ear?” You whine, looking accusingly at the Aussie who just grins down at you, cuffing the same ear once again. “I’m gonna tell Lewis.”

“He doesn’t scare me, and besides, he’d probably agree with me! All, ‘C’mon, Mousey, that’s not how your therapist said to cope with your trauma—”

“That’s a bit scary, how accurate that was,” You prop yourself up to glare at your dear friend, only to smile broadly at him. You can’t help it, really. He manages to make you smile, even when you feel like shit. And even when he cuffs your bad ear by mistake, after swearing he won’t do it again.

In truth, the ear looks almost melted. It’s usually carefully hidden by your personal stylist, with hair masterfully combed over it. The skin around it— luckily missing your scalp— was mottled and pink. What was left of your ear was little more than a small ridge of skin and cartilage at this point, and was much the same in your canine appearance, just more dramatic without all the fur. The upper half of your ear was utterly gone, along with most of the lobe. It was the ear you were deaf in. 

“Can it even hurt if you’re deaf?”

“Yeah! Doesn’t mean it’s gone numb to the feeling,” you pout, looking at him as he sets his chin on your shoulder. Logan giggles from FaceTime. He’s set up somewhere, Williams blue all around him that makes you avert your gaze but continue talking to him nonetheless. “Ugh. Logan, I almost killed Lando.”

“She threw a can of Red Bull at him,” Oscar clarifies, to his rather shocked-looking boyfriend and courting partner. To his credit, it takes a few seconds before Logan starts to cackle.  

“It was empty!” You protest back, but there’s a wide smile on your face as you hazard a glance at your former partner. “He was being a little bitch!”

“Should I be offended I didn’t get the same treatment my first day?” Logan’s voice crackles and his face is frozen on the screen with a mix of a confused look and smirk, before serenading both of you with a jumbled, robotic mess before the call abruptly ends. 

“Stupid wifi,” Oscar mumbles, pulling the phone away to text his boyfriend to see what happened. You just settle back into your side of the nest, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off while Oscar’s comforting scent wafts over in you waves. You could just about fall asleep when there’s a gentle knock at the door, followed by Andrea poking his head in. 

He blinks at the two of you. You blink back at him, already knowing you won't be able to take a much-needed like you had originally planned.

“Ah! Ms Lauda— can I speak with you for a second?”

“Can I do it from here?” you try to press yourself deeper into Oscar’s nest. You’d need to find a place to make one here— a nice, private room. Somewhere you can easily reapply your scent blockers and can fully surrender to your instincts until you were comfortable with more people knowing about your designation. “Took off my blockers.”

“Of course. I just wanted to check in, make sure everything was alright after… how the meeting went.”

There’s a hearty pause. As if he can tell you’re thinking over your words carefully.

“It certainly… went.”

“Ah. And… no other comments?”

“I meant what I said. You baby Lando.” You shift slightly. Tiredly. Giving the team principal the trademark Lauda stare from where you’re comfortably curled into the nest. So soft, yet so harsh at the same time.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to fix that,” Andrea smiles politely at you, and ducks out of the room without another word. You just settle deeper into Oscar’s nest, wondering what in the hell you’d gotten yourself into. The only thing on your mind when you finally manage to fall asleep is how much you miss your mother's fresh peach cobbler.

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3 @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @seonghwaexile @mrsmelinda

[kooki914]

Nobody asked and yet you're getting it anyway, my Dess interpretation! Tbf I love a lot of other people's Dess designs maybe more than my own based on complexity/symbology alone, but this is what my original take for her was so I'm sticking to it. Extremely long list of factoids for her under the cut!

Dess hasn't seen a hairbrush in 8 years.

Opening her first fountain was an accident, and so was entering the dark world, but it was something she desperately needed at that point. She was knighted by Spade King, before being dubbed the Roaring Knight by the general public after she opened the second fountain and people started (correctly) assuming she was trying to cause the apocalypse.

Dess is mtf trans! She was out since she was 9, and took puberty blockers for a while, but stopped after she disappeared because she, y'know, didn't have access to them anymore. Strangely, even though she's been off of them for so long, there's very few side effects. You can just see her Adam's apple sometimes and muscle mass started building for her easily, but that's it. She's silently grateful that her dad didn't pass down any beard-making genes.

The reason why it's been so mild is due in part because of the effect of being in the "void" for too long, aka the space so dark and isolated you can't even feel your own limbs. She was stuck in the code of the game, basically, and it's had adverse effects on her mentally and physically, the only positive effect being less testosterone production in her body.

The physical effects are odd. Though she's grown and her body's age is what it would've been if she never disappeared, she's still in the same clothes she was when she ran away, but they sized up with her. The black nail polish she had on is still there too, not even chipped. As previously mentioned, her hormones are out of whack but, somehow, she's still clearly a grown adult, as if she just went through a very, very mild puberty.

The mental effects of being stranded in the literal nothingness are as expected as they are odd. The standard effects of not having contact with another person for so long have, somehow, never taken hold. It's like the social part of her brain was just put on pause. However, part of the madness she DID get was her very much considering her memories might just be made up. As if she was always here and managed to, somehow, delude herself into thinking she had a life outside of this place, when she never did. Essentially, she stopped existing, but retained some level of consciousness.

The whole "not existing for a while" thing as well as the fact that she's pre-hrt trans means she absolutely hates mirrors. Give her a mirror and she'll give back about a hundred shards of it. When she was younger she usually just had dysphoria over looking too boyish (hence why she never cut her hair) but nowadays she has weird feelings about something as simple as Having Knees (the existential horror of having a body after being formless in the nothingness during your formative years).

Her journey as the Knight was mostly about rediscovering herself, trying to find purpose and trying to help the people around her. She spent her whole life feeling helpless, and wanted to destroy that feeling, for everyone. Her violent behavior was rewarded by the equally maladjusted Spade King, and they teamed up under the pretense of helping all of darkner kind.

Dess set out to cause the Roaring, per his instruction, without knowing what it even was. All she knew is that, apparently, she was the only one who could, and that gave her a sense of purpose. Once she learned it'd bring about the end of the world, she was so detached from the world that she carried on anyway, not concerned with the life that could be lost because, god, she spent so long outside it, how COULD she know what life was worth now?

Dess went by neutral pronouns (they/it) as the Knight because it was another mask she used to distance what she Knew of herself and what she Had to be (kind of like Asriel calling himself "Flowey" in Undertale, actually). Being called "her" was too familiarising and humanising, being called "he" made her break out into hives and start killing, so she stuck with the alternatives for utilitarian reasons. Somewhere along the way she got sick of it and started missing her feminine pronouns, but decided to just stick to the bit anyway. The world was gonna end soon anyhow, who cares?

Once she's out of the role of Knight and back in the light world, you bet your ass she's switching back to exclusively she/her. Fuck neutrality, this girl needs gender affirmative language.

Rediscovering music, and specifically playing and making music, was one of the things that helped Dess get back in touch with being a person again after the whole Knight debacle. She plays piano and harmonica of her own volition, and the violin because of her mom's insistence, but her true favourite will always be the guitar. She was a little small as a kid so playing it used to be difficult, but now that she's an adult having it in her lap is easy, and honestly it just makes her feel alive. One of those dreams she had as a kid that she forgot about along the way, y'know?

Her and Asriel were just family friends at first, but when they ended up going to the same class together too, they quickly became best friends. They were there for each other through everything, Dess got Asriel into games, he was there when she came out, and they were practically inseparable. Asriel was a hard worker and Dess was a super active sports kid, they balanced each other out well and were known as the highest achievers in their class, the golden kids.

Kris and Noelle got dragged into their adventures basically on accident, Noelle because Dess was the one babysitting her all the time, and Kris because they wanted to spend time with their brother. They often spent time outside together because Dess loved being anywhere but at home. She didn't mind Azzy's house, though. Kris was a lot to deal with sometimes and Dess scolded them in a lot of the same ways adults scolded her (minus the hitting them over the head with stuff, what was all her). She has no idea the impact she's had on their behavior.

She was always kind of violent, but when she was younger it wasn't really an issue, more like an excuse to get her into sports. She learned to act out because causing problems was the only context in which she'd get attention from her very busy parents. With Noelle specifically, Dess took on a semi-parental role and quickly developed a habit of taking on way more burdens than she could handle. Even with Asriel as a best friend and the Dreemurrs as a surrogate family, the control her mother Clarice commanded over her life was just too limiting. It all boiled over.

Dess started lashing out at other kids around when puberty hit, starting fights and genuinely hurting people. She never got expelled because her mother was the mayor, but Dess started getting grounded more and more often, which meant less and less time with her only real friend, and more with her very dysfunctional family. She loved Noelle, but her little sister became another responsibility, another liability that could get Dess in trouble, it was way too much for her to handle maturely when she was only 13.

Dess "disappeared" because she ran away from home. She hated living there, but neither of her parents could admit that, hence her disappearance being so "mysterious" to the other townsfolk, they genuinely thought she vanished from inside the house. It was only after Kris admitted they saw her in the woods near the bunker that night that the case got more complicated, and the legend only grew more terrifying.

Her original plan was to just catch a bus to out of town and hope for the best, but when she ran into the woods in pitch blackness, she couldn't find her way around. She was too reliant on light, and couldn't manage in darkness. She found the bunker in her aimless wandering and, hoping to sleep off the night and make up excuses in the morning, she went inside. She couldn't have known that nothing was in there.

The effects of her sudden disappearance rippled throughout the whole town. Most obviously, Asgore got fired for not being able to find her and Rudy quit his job to be a stay at home dad for Noelle's sake. Less tangibly, Asriel and Clarice both started burying themselves in work to avoid grief. Kris and Noelle socially shut down for a few years, it's why neither of them have any real friends other than the strained relationship they have with each other. Asriel took on Dess' habit of "be anywhere but home" when his parents started having marital problems, and Kris latched onto him even harder to avoid losing any more people in their life. Through all this, Dess was nowhere, silently wondering if anyone even noticed she's gone, if her life was even real to begin with.

One of the strange things that happened to her while stranded in nothingness was almost being able to hear someone mumbling to themselves. When she called out, the voice vanished, only to re-emerge an uncertain amount of time later and excuse himself for getting startled. He just doesn't get guests often, you see. And guests get him even more rarely. It was refreshing to hear a consciousness separate from her own, but his mind was even more broken than hers, unable to answer her questions about what was real and what was imagined as he seemed to think he himself was a product of unreality. Plus, he never really stayed for too long and he never wanted to talk about himself either, as if mentioning his own name could shatter him to pieces.

The reason Dess didn't lose her mind from to his influence like Jevil and Spamton did was because she's just fundamentally pragmatic. You can throw philosophy and existential questions at her all you want but as long as she talks and thinks, she exists, which means reality is Something, even if it's completely eluding her grasp. It might also have something to do with her being a (homestuck warning) Void player, meaning the idea of the innate meaninglessness of life and unanswerable questions about reality itself don't really sound earth-shattering to her.

She used her knife to open fountains at first, the one she brought with her from the light world, but along the way she picked up a rapier and decided it was way cooler than a knife so it's her go-to now. She's not actually that good with swords, though. She uses them like baseball bats. Despite this, Spade King still praises her as if she's the best warrior they've seen in generations. It might've gone to her head.

Her relationship with King is fundamentally a mentor and a student. He gave her flawed information, but taught her a lot about herself, the world she found herself in, and the role she could choose. And, that's the most important part, he let her CHOOSE, because he was genuinely under the impression that she was just a really powerful darkner and not a lightner. His strictness and high standards reminded her of her parents, mostly her mom, but his willingness to give HER control over her own destiny is what made her favour him over every other adult in her life. Discipline that treated her like a valued person rather than an asset was basically unheard of for her until then. Plus, reminding her of her parents gave Spade the bonus of every time he encouraged her on anything it'd activate the "parental approval" neurons in her brain that were terribly starved up to that point.

From Spade's point of view, the Knight (as a darkner) is everything he wants to be, but can't be. At first he mentored her mostly as an excuse to live vicariously through her, but in getting to know her better he discovered they have a lot more in common than he first thought. Unregulated emotions, unresolved pasts, the constant feeling that you need to do More and Louder in order to make any kind of impact... he started to genuinely care about her. If/when he's redeemed, finding out the Knight has been a lightner this whole time might not even be that much of a betrayal. Seeing her face and learning her name as she apologies for lying is like reconnecting with his own wounded, younger self. Letting it be water under the bridge means he doesn't lose connection to himself again, doesn't lose connection with his best student. Plus, December IS a nice name.

She met Lancer, but didn't pay him much mind. She was busy with overthrowing the other Kings and was too tired to be a babysitter again. Due to her rancid vibes as the Knight (and the fact that she quickly became the favoured child even though it wasn't her intention) Lancer doesn't like her that much. She left Card Kingdom pretty quickly, anyway (Spade's advice to seek another worthy kingdom to grant a fountain to), so she never got much of a chance to get to know him, even if she wanted to.

Her relationship with Queen is even more fraught. Due to Queen's tendency to mimic the "mother" personality for every lightner she meets individually, as well as her more Explicitly Controlling tendencies, Dess quickly became rebellious and then antagonistic towards her. Queen tried to choose FOR her, to get her to open fountains on HER terms, and Dess wasn't having it. Yes, following Queen's instructions would've caused the Roaring much, MUCH sooner, but, like. Not at ALL in a satisfying way.

She has no idea who Gaster is. When asked, she'll assume he's a Darkner. If asked about the man in the nothingness, she'll shrug it off. Now that she's out, she doesn't know if he's actually real or something she just made up in her head, though she laughs that off as well. "I sound a lot like him when saying that, huh?"

Learning Asriel goes to college is complete whiplash for her. Her sense of time is WRECKED. Like, yeah, she can wrap her head around Noelle and Kris being teens now, but ASRIEL??? What do you MEAN he's not still stressing over chemistry exams and cramming for spanish class, and is, like, actually studying something he's interested in???? Unheard of.

She makes fun of him SO much for his little beard stubble, dude. It's all in good fun, but like, you can only be called "mini Asgore" so many times by your childhood best friend before it starts to cut deeper. On the flipside he has literally nothing bad to say to her. She nearly caused the apocalypse, but like, he gets it. He would've done the same in her shoes (hooves??). He thinks her Dark World armour is so kickass and he could never pull it off like she can.

Unsurprisingly Asriel has a crush on Dess. He always kinda had one, even when they were kids, but reconnecting as adults just Fully bashed him over the head with the fact that he's had repressed feelings for her and he has NO idea what to do about it. He's anxiety incarnate and thinks Dess already KNOWS he has a crush on her and just isn't saying anything because she's playing it cool, or doesn't wanna hurt his feelings, or thinks he's too lame to date or something. He thinks she's the coolest person who ever lived and has no idea how to cope.

Meanwhile in reality, Dess is a clueless aro/ace. She doesn't really know what having a crush even means. She thinks being a couple is, like, flirting and fighting behind closed doors (you can tell the only couples she knew personally were her parents and Asriel's parents), so she thinks it's just exhausting and doesn't know why anyone bothers. When Noelle tells her she has a crush on Susie Dess is like "Hell yeah, love is love........ wait do you mean you like her or you want her to crush you with a boulder" and Noelle sweats for a while before replying with "b-both?"

Dess has never been to Castletown. Most likely will never go.

Her and Kris reconnecting is a bit awkward at first, mostly on account of the fact that Kris and their posse are the ones that had her bash her over the head as the Knight to get her to behave in the first place, but Dess doesn't really focus on that. Kris thinks they hurt her, she just thinks of them as a little hero. Susie kinda helps facilitate them talking like people again, at least at first, because she has no baggage with Dess other than hitting her with an ax over dark fountains and getting stabbed in return, but like... Out of all the people they fought Dess is the only one who actually said sorry for being a jackass, so it's all good in Susie's book. Kris is just happy to have Dess back, man, that bunker and their memory of it has been haunting them for entirely too long, now.

Like Kris and Asriel, Dess learned how to play piano in church. Unlike them, and unlike Noelle, Dess has actually become fully agnostic after her time in the void. If there IS an angel looking out for her, it certainly isn't one that could've helped her, so what's the point of worship? Plus, Asriel and Noelle are two angels looking out for her as is! Why add divinity to that? (I am extremely subtle, I know.)

To this day, she's still apologising to Asgore for getting him fired. He is still apologising for not being able to find her. It's a pity party.

No-one tell her parents but she smokes weed. Once she reformed from being the Knight, she had a lot on her mind, man, weed is the most harmless thing she could've taken to cope. Seam is a good dealer, they have the good stuff.

She's absolutely called King "dad" by accident before. He doesn't really mind. No-one tell Rudy though, he's gonna be pissed.

On that note, I feel the need to add that she was never as close to him as Noelle was, because he only really started being an active parent after Dess went missing. It's kinda tragic, and he feels REALLY guilty about it, but if he ever verbalises that guilt he's gonna actually crumble into dust. His confidence is all a mask as is, actually admitting that he was kind of garbage at being a dad with his first kid is just gonna make it so much worse. But, until Dess hears an apology, she's not really gonna be able to actually mend their relationship, so they're at an impasse.

Inversely, her time away from the light world kinda made Dess forget the way her mother acts. She sorta got a bit of "once away from the abuser you forget the abuse", especially knowing she herself was a kid when it all happened so she kinda started justifying her mother's actions to herself when away from her. After like 2 weeks of living with her again Dess fully remembers why she ran away and packs her bags to live literally anywhere else. Preferably with King if that's an option, though that might just make Lancer move out as well.

She doesn't know what minecraft is.

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 8

Part 7

The rest of the band had gotten over their shock of the news of Eddie's sudden rut and were having a conversation about sewing or something but Steve was deep in thought.

"I'm telling you, it's both calming and not calming", Jeff said as they walked out of the venue.

Gareth adjusted his jacket. "You get all that from quilting?"

"You remember your dice obsession way back when?"

"Dude, that's all I remember from junior year."

"You guys aren't worried about Eddie?", Steve asked, interjecting.

"Why would we be worried?", Gareth asked.

"He just-", Steve paused when a couple of fans caught them between the sidewalk and the car taking them back to the hotel. It didn't seem prudent for anyone to know why Eddie would be indisposed right now. But he continued when the fans got their autographs and left. "He just went into rut without any warning."

"Yeah, but he's a grown man", Jeff said. "He can handle it."

'Handle it'. How alphas usually handled it was all Steve could think about on the way back to the hotel. Alphas of his previous tax bracket would usually have a designated partner. Whether that was someone they were married to, were promised to, or just someone they had an agreement with, it was odd for an alpha of means to spend a rut alone. So did Eddie already have someone like that?

Was that why he pushed Steve away and took off? So that he could go to them? The initial twinge of heartbreak and rejection was quickly replaced with anger. Who the hell had stolen his alpha away?

"Uhh, is Steve okay?", Grant asked, picking up on the bothered scent he was putting out.

"I need to talk to Eddie", Steve said, arms crossed.

"Chrissy's already with him in his room. She's probably making sure he's all set up", Jeff said.

Chrissy. Corroded Coffin's manager. Completely professional. But also...she was an omega...One that had known Eddie for a long time. When the car parked, Steve got out, forging ahead to the suite he and Eddie were sharing.

"Steve? Steve! We're telling you man, it's gonna be okay", Jeff tried to reassure him.

"And no one's gonna blame you", Gareth added.

That got Steve to stop in his tracks just as he was about to press the button for the elevators. "What do you mean blame me? For what?"

All three of them looked anywhere but him. Steve put his hands on his hips, not allowing them to get out of answering his question. Jeff was the one that broke.

"His rut, Steve. I think it's pretty obvious it only happened because... well, you and he, you know..."

Yes, Steve did know. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Decades of science had proven that in certain conditions, this situation could happen. He let out a puff of laughter and ran his hands through his hair.

Honestly, if you had asked him, Steve would’ve figured that Eddie would have triggered his heat first. He’d heard the stories of having your hormones knocked out of whack by an alpha and having an off-cycle heat. So having to deal with his rut out of the blue was definitely a surprise.

Looking back on the past twenty four hours, anyone from the outside would have thought that Steve had been purposely trying to start it. But his sweet, sweet alpha and treated the situation like he was inconveniencing Steve. He had pushed Steve away, probably for his own good.

When he allowed himself to calm down and think about it, the idea that Eddie was getting his rocks off to someone else right now was just unbelievable. They had agreed. Exclusive. Which meant Eddie intended to ride this out alone.

“You don’t have to worry about Eddie”, Gareth said. “You can bunk with one of us while we wait for it to pass.”

“I’m not going to leave him”, Steve said quickly.

He pushed the elevator button and when the doors opened, he went inside. Grant and the others followed him. They stood behind Steve, trying to have a silent conversation on how to proceed.

"I can hear you guys bugging out", Steve said without turning. "It'll be fine." It wasn't even a matter of choice. His alpha needed him.

When the doors opened, he led the brigade and took his key card out. Inside, Chrissy was ending a call and Eddie was nowhere to be seen. She frowned a little at Steve.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I'm here to help Eddie", Steve said.

She looked disappointed at the band behind him, as if they were supposed to keep him away before giving Steve her attention again.

"Look, Steve, I know you're nice. But it's a liability thing. You could get hurt and Eddie's a public figure. Or maybe you'll use this to baby trap him, I don't know. But I can't let you use my friend that way."

Steve let out a hiss at the accusation. He had to remind himself and his omega that Eddie wasn't actually his alpha, that they weren't mated. She was completely in her rights as a friend and manager to protect her friend.

"Eddie won't hurt me. Chrissy, you know that stereotype about alphas during rut is nothing but BS. And I'm on birth control, so no pups are coming out of me any time soon."

"Baby, Chrissy", Eddie called out as he came out of the bedroom.

Steve ran up to him but Eddie grabbed his hands, keeping him at arms length. Steve frowned, but understood. They never really discussed what to do if one of them went into their cycles. But Eddie was still of a clear mind. They had time to discuss it now.

"Do you trust him?", Chrissy asked.

"With my signed copy of Lord of the Rings", Eddie smiled.

Steve's brow rose. "By Tolkien?"

"No, by McKellen. Which is better. The thing is, I don't trust myself around you while I'm like this."

Steve pouted a bit and let go of Eddie's hands, turning back to the rest of the group. "Do you mind giving us some privacy? I promise, if he turns me away, I'll come to one of your rooms."

"Text me before you guys get too....you know...", Chrissy said. "We can make accommodations."

"Will do", Steve said as he walked over to the couch while they left him and Eddie alone. Once they were, Steve patted the space next to him. Eddie came over, but only sat on the far opposite side.

“Angel, you shouldn’t be here. I’m not safe.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Eddie, you’re a pre-rut alpha. Not an insatiable lust monster.”

“But we never talked about this…you doing this for me, being my-m-my-”

“Shh”, Steve put a finger to his lips. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. I just wanna return the favor.” Then he let out an exaggerated sigh and turned away, standing up “But if you don’t want me here-”

He heard a loud thump that was probably the from Eddie rushing and falling off the couch to stop him. He felt Eddie hug him from behind, gentle, like he was afraid of breaking him.

"I want to. Christ alive, I want to. But I...what if I'm too much? What if I cross the line?"

Steve turned in his arms and kissed his nose. "Then we need to draw a line in the sand first."

Eddie nodded. "Okay. Okay, I can do that." His hands were already toeing the line, inching under Steve's shirt. "Maybe we have this conversation with some space between us?"

Steve conceded to that. He didn't want to get distracted either. So they sat back down on the couch, apart but not too far apart.

"Sooo, what am I allowed to do?", Eddie asked.

"Anything", Steve breathed out before composing himself. Eddie's scent was getting stronger but he had to not think with his pussy for once. "I mean, just what we've done before. All of that is fine."

"What if I wanna bite you?", Eddie swallowed.

"You know you're allowed to do that", Steve smirked. He was still sporting some of the marks from earlier.

"Even if I wanted to...", Eddie's eyes went to his neck. "Once I'm in rut, I'll really want it. I'll wanna make you mine. In any way I can."

'Don't think with your cunt, don't think with your cunt. Make a rational decision-god our babies would be so beautiful-but we're not ready to be mated-he's such a good alpha, perfect alpha, could raise our pups good, keep them safe and-'

"We can, um", Steve cleared his throat and looked around for something. He got up, just to get some space and also think of something that would keep him from getting a mating bite tonight even though that was all he wanted. He saw something on the bed and went right for it.

"Perfect!", he exclaimed, returning with the black bandana Eddie had been wearing during the concert. It was saturated with his scent. Steve folded it to a rectangular band and then tied it around his neck. "This is off limits", he said. "And your alpha brain won't fight because-"

"Because it already smells like you're mine. Sweet thing, you're a genius", Eddie beamed. He got off the couch and pulled Steve in his arms, kissing him sweetly. He took in a deep breath and released a full body shudder. "It's working already."

"Oh yeah?", Steve couldn't help looking smug.

"Mhm. It's like you've already got my bite." Eddie started to kiss at his jaw. "And it's making me wonder why I haven't got you pupped up yet."

Steve could've swooned but he had to keep his wits about him for as long as he could. "There's one more thing."

"Hm?", Eddie looked up, his eyes were already starting to get the moony look.

"You're not going to be entirely yourself. I know that. So like I said, I'm gonna take care of you. That means you listen to me. I'm in charge, okay?"

Eddie nodded rapidly. "You're in charge. Got it."

"Good alpha", Steve stroked his hair. With any luck, the tour schedule wouldn't be messed up too badly. Alpha ruts typically lasted around 3-5 days. It would've been longer if he had to go solo. There was the idea still being passed around that an alpha's rut would end when they were convinced their partner had conceived, but Steve wasn't sure how he was supposed to trick Eddie's alpha into thinking that.

But the important part was that they'd decided what to do and Steve was taking him to bed.

"You know, the guys think that I triggered your rut", Steve said.

"And don't you look proud", Eddie grinned, lying in bed next to him. He frowned and sniffed at the comforter. "Doesn't smell right. Doesn't smell like us."

Us. Steve felt himself get wet. Well, wetter. He was going to be Eddie's omega. At least while his rut was going on.

"Do you know what I was thinking, while I was watching you on stage earlier?", Steve asked.

Eddie swallowed and shook his head. Steve pushed him onto his back and sat on his lap. Eddie looked perfect under him and between his legs like this.

"I was thinking about how sexy you looked. How everybody couldn't take their eyes off you, but you were only looking at me." Steve started a slow grind and watched as Eddie's eyes darkened. "And how I wanted to ride you all night long."

Part 9

Tag Team

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[queenimmadolla]

srry if this has been asked before !

how did eddie & reader tell penny they were expecting? and how did she react ?

glad you asked because now i get to post this early!

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(dad!eddie munson x mom!pregnant!reader)

more of your family here.

Summary: . . . You and Eddie tell your toddler she's going to be a big sister.

warnings: penny being penny, it's fluff.

It wasn’t ideal. Not necessarily something you were vehemently against, since you were obviously going through with it, but not worth sobbing over. 

  Eddie had knocked you up. Again.

  Penny wasn’t even three years old yet, and you’d ended up with yet another bun in the oven—as you’d discovered two weeks ago. 

  Luckily, you weren’t as far along as you had been when you found out you were pregnant with Penny, so you’d have more time to plan and come to terms with it. And your hormones weren’t out of whack yet.

  Last week had technically been the end of your first trimester, so you were pretty much in the clear to start telling people—though most of your friend group already knew because despite feeling a little overwhelmed, Eddie took great pride in his ability to strike twice.

  You were sure he had some sort of breeding kink, and it definitely didn’t help that you let him raw dog you every single time. As soon as you popped this one out, that would be coming to an end. Until then, he was keen on having his fill—or rather keen on filling you.

  The only person in your life who didn’t know you were expecting was your toddler. If the conversation didn’t involve a word she wasn’t supposed to say, Penny wasn’t paying attention.

  You and Eddie had tried to come up with ways to tell her, but you’d both been fumbling with ideas. Mostly because you had no idea how she’d react. 

  Penny only interacted with a few kids her age at the park, mostly older children and sometimes she’d see a baby, point at it and say ‘baby’, but that was about it. She’d do the same when she saw the gerber baby commercials and she thought the babies on her cartoons were cute, but that was the most she’d interacted with one. 

  Penny was also aware of the existence of siblings, saw them depicted in her cartoons but never approached you and Eddie in regards to why she didn’t have one or wanting one (which you had been grateful about). But she was only two. Which meant she probably didn’t care. 

  Or that she didn’t want one. 

  That’s what you and Eddie were afraid of.

  You’d been thinking about her lack of interactions with babies all day at work when the idea struck you.

  It was such an obvious one, too, you knew Eddie would be annoyed that he didn’t think of it sooner.

  After work, you swung by the store, secured the bag (and a gift bag) and dipped.

  Once you were parked in front of the trailer, you shoved the darling little thing into the gift bag and found yourself surprisingly giddy about the entire idea. You had a really good feeling about this.

  Eddie had already picked Penny up from Maude and Wayne, and you found him lifting her up and rocketing her around the room, making swoosh sound effects while she laughed her cute little diaper-covered butt off.

  It was music to your ears.

  “Look! Mommy’s home!” Eddie lowered her, turning her so she was facing your direction.

  Her big brown eyes lit up, smile widening as she reached for you.

  “Mama!”

  “Hi, baby!” You greeted her as Eddie repositioned her over his hip. She leaned forward, lips comically pursed and ready for a kiss. Penny saw you and Eddie kiss each other goodbye and witnessed your welcome kisses, so she also demanded kisses, which you were happy to give her. At one point, she didn’t want you giving Eddie any kisses because she thought they were all hers so you were happy she was willing to share.

  You gave her an innocent little smooch, and pressed big smacking ones to both her cheeks.

  “And hello to you, too.” You reached a hand up to hook on the back of Eddie’s neck as you leaned up and he leaned down, lips meeting in a kiss you knew he wanted to deepen—and would have, had it not been for the toddler in his arms.

  “Hi, honey.” He gave you a goofy grin, before jutting his chin down towards the shiny pink bag in your hand, “What’cha got there?”

  “Put her on the couch, I’ll show you.”

  “Is it for me or is it for her?” Eddie tapped at his chest before gently pinching and wiggling Penny’s nose as you both moved over to the couch. “‘Cause, I’m hoping it’s for me. No offense, kid.”

  Her pudgy little hands flew up to swipe at her dad’s before he set her down on the cushions. Penny was still all smiles, but since Eddie had brought the gift to her attention, she couldn’t focus on anything else, stare honed in on the pink bag. 

  You squatted to be eye level with her and reached your hand out to tickle Penny’s tummy. She giggled, tongue between her teeth as she moved her hands to try to shield her tummy from you.

  “I’ve brought you a gift.” You held the bag up by the strings, the bottom of it supported by your other palm.

  “Wazzit?”

  “It’s a crystal, nothing more—I’m kidding. Open it, baby.”

  You placed it in her grabby hands, the bag was half her size so she had to dump it on its side and practically climb inside to pull out the clear, plastic box. Her little gasp was a dramatic one.

  “‘S uh baby, mommy! Uh baby!”

  Penny marveled at the baby doll in her hands, mouth and eyes wide open.

  “Show daddy!”

  Penny turned the clear box around—dropping it in her lap once—to showcase the plastic baby inside.

  Eddie’s gasp was purposely more dramatic than Penny’s had been, “Is that a baby?!”

  “Yah!”

  Eddie chuckled, holding a hand out, “You want me to open it for you?”

  “Yes.”

  Eddie struggled with the packaging for a good five minutes, muttering unintelligible words under his breath before he finally got the doll out and released it from its bindings.  

  Penny clutched it to her chest in a deathly tight hug and your heart warmed to see her so happy. Penny had yet to be introduced to dolls, all she ever played with was blocks and stuffed animals—you and Eddie avoided taking her to the toy aisle, you because you were afraid she’d want something she was too small for and Eddie because he feared she’d want something with too many choking hazard pieces.

  “I haz uh baby!” She proclaimed, eyes squeezing shut with the force of her smile.

  “You know, Penny…I have a baby, too.” You confessed, reaching a hand out to stroke over her curls.

  “I yuh baby!” She giggled 

  You and Eddie both chuckled, and he squatted down to join you. He’d finally caught on to what you were up to, and you were right, he was a little miffed he hadn’t thought of this earlier, considering Penny often had him feed her stuffed animals a bottle.

  “You are our baby,” Eddie agreed, “but mama has another baby.”

  “Daddy, Penny yuh baby! Penny mommy’s baby.” She tried again, probably wondering why her mommy and daddy didn’t understand that she was the baby. 

  “Penny is—you are a baby,” you always had to catch yourself. Penny had a habit of usually referring to herself in third person because she heard you and Eddie talk about her and thought she had to refer to herself in the same way, “I’m just gonna have another baby and you.”

  Penny’s grip on the baby doll loosened, head tilting with confusion written all over her cute little face. “Huh?”

  “You remember the babies in the strollers at the park?” You asked, palm scooping up one of her little hands. She curled it around your thumb.

  “Yes.”

  “Mommy and daddy are having one of those.” Eddie finished for you, flashing you a smile with eyes that glittered and oozed his happiness. There was something magical about Eddie. He had the power to make any weariness, any of your lingering nerves just disappear. Melt away. Just with a look.

  “You’re gonna be a big sister,” You added, returning your focus to your little girl.

  Penny’s gaze darted to the side and you and Eddie held your breath.

  Her gaze darted to the other side as she continued to think and Eddie reached for your hand, squeezing. His palm was sweaty.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “Uhhhhhhhh, wike pieble?” Her head cocked to the side again, unwinding one arm from around her baby doll to scratch at her head and muss up her curls.

  She meant Fievel. A little mouse from one of her favorite movies.

  “Well, he was the little brother, so you’re more like—what’s her name?”

  You turned your head to ask Eddie who readily supplied you with the answer since it was the tape that constantly occupied the VCR. He could quote that movie by now. 

  “Tanya.”

  “Tanya. You’re like Tanya.”

  “Aww!!!” Penny went bashful, shoulders lifting up nearly to her ears. “Okie dokie!”

  You sighed in relief but Eddie was still practically frozen.

  “…That’s it?”

  “Huh?” 

  “You’re just—you’re okay with it? Just like that? No screaming, no crying, no throwing your toys at daddy? You’re just—you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” 

  Eddie blinked, lips pursed before he shrugged and stood up and you rose with him. “Well, okay then! We’re having another baby.”

  Penny squealed, shoving her baby doll aside—oh, how fleeting was her favor—to clap her hands, practically bouncing on the cushion.

  “Weh my baby?”

  “Right there.” Eddie pointed at the baby doll before he pulled you into his arms, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. You were having his baby, again, and his baby girl was fine with it. He’d been expecting one of her tantrums that ended with her spread out on the floor, bashing her fists and kicking her feet against it while she screamed till she was blue in the face but the reality was so much better.

  “No, daddy. Not dat.” And to emphasize she wasn’t talking about the doll, Penny lifted her leg, making sure the baby doll was under her foot before she kicked it off the couch. “I wan’ my baby.”

  “Jesus, Penny. What have I said about throwing your toys?” He frowned, chin resting on the top of your head while you stayed quiet and nestled against his chest. You weren’t docile or anything, you just wanted him to be the bad guy this time.

  Penny ignored him, once more voicing her question with a great amount of exasperation and her hands flailing, “Weh my baby!?” 

  “Still in my tummy, Penny.” You informed her, hand moving to rest over your lower abdomen. There still wasn’t much change there, but you knew life was growing just beneath your palm.

  Eddie wished so damn badly that he had the camera to capture the look on Penny’s face at your statement, her mouth dropped open, eyes wider than he’d ever seen them with a mixture of outrage, horror and disbelief.

  “YOU ATED UH BABY?!”

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 33

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 7k

A/N: Missed you all!

What do you say to your ex-boyfriend after you make him come so hard he cries?

Age old question. 

“Do you need water?” You ask, ankles wrapped around his lower back. Sated and satisfied, he nods before parting his body from yours. Eyes heavy lidded, staring at you bare covered in his come. Your questions sinks in and he takes back his nod with a furrowed brow.

“No-let me clean you.” He stands before you can protest that you can do it yourself. His jeans hanging low, sweat painting his hairline, he walks away. 

You’re left alone on the couch, a bit shameful you’d say. You might never look at the couch the same again. Thank goodness Chucho only ever sits in his recliner, he’s saving you from decades of embarrassment. The tv was shut all the way off and the December breeze creeped through the window steadily then all at once. Sobering your mind that only had the capacity to be turned on. Your pleasure sensors doing its job. 

He comes back, shifting his bulge with his palm. Kneeling before you, and wiping you clean. “We always seem to get here.” He whispers, leaning down to grab your panties off the floor. You thank him silently and pull them back on. He stands and watches you for a moment. He’s still licked with sweat and red eyed from his orgasm. “I don’t want this to be a step back-”

“It won’t be. We’re… human. And I’m almost getting my period so…” You ramble and he hums. You usually can keep it in your pants. And you talked up such a big game about boundaries just to fold the second your hormones whacked and Javier made the slightest reference to your previous sex life. You had an extraordinary forty-eight hour attempt of celibacy. 

He nods, leaning back in the seat. “Going forward?” He crosses his arms. Your brows shoot high, he waits for you to set a new rule. His pants are still unbuckled and he looks fucked out. Too sexy for his own good, that fucking mustache drives you up a wall. 

“Going forward…” You straighten up, criss crossing your legs. “I’d like to… not make it a habit while we’re figuring it out. But… if we get… in a mood-“ He chuckles, you stumble over your own words as if you weren’t just talking him through coming all over you. You narrow your eyes at him and nudge him with your foot. “No sex. Penetrative sex. No kissing.” You stabilize your voice, his eyes saddened at the last part. 

“Can I eat you out?” He asks like it’s nothing at all, like he’s asking what’s the weather like. You think for a moment. 

“Do you want to eat me out?” You ask, not sure why—

He looks down at your lap. “Please.”

You kick him. “Pervert… Yes you can. If! It happens to progress that way not just because we want to. We aren’t together-“

“Yet.” He nods. “Not together yet.”

You snort, “You’re confident.” 

“Andrea. I know you don’t want anyone else.”

You scoff this time, sitting up. “You’re right. I don’t. But if you can’t prove to me that you’re ready I’ll have no fucking problem setting foot to New York alone. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Your face is red, feeling something close to anger. No, you weren’t trying to be controlling. You’re just not the passive twenty-two year old ready to just cry and move on. Over and done with it. “Tomorrow. I want you to visit Lorraine. I’ll come with you if you’d like, I can’t promise to help the situation because I might pop her.” You exhale, running a hand through your hair. Genuinely frustrated and violent when you think of her. Javier smirks and nods

“Okay. But I need you there with me.” 

Flustered and frankly pissed off, “Alright.”

His under eye twitches and he opens his mouth just to shut it again. You squint at him, annoyed. “What.” You snap.

“You’re so sexy when you’re angry.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“So you’re back together” Genie wipes her lips, just to take another bite of bruschetta that drips on  the plate. You and Javier napped on the couch until four pm when the sound of a polaroid click and flash jolted you upright. Chucho stood at the couch without a clue, grinning as his photo developed. You yawned and Javier drove you back to your motel. He didn’t want to say goodbye, watched you until your waved at him from inside the room window. 

Then you put on your bumiest clothes and drive to your brother's house. In desperate need of talking to a woman. As much as you missed your brother, you were absolutely thrilled to find that he took your niece to a birthday party. 

Your lips tangy and oily, Genie was trying something new as a snack. “No. We aren’t-“

“So please explain this to me again.” She uses her bisquit to pick up what fell off before, grunting when it falls again. 

You sigh, licking your lips. “He ate me out on Christmas.”

“That’s blasphemous.” She grins and you roll your eyes. 

“Whatever, I think we were just high off of seeing each other. Missed one another, then we both felt shit about it the next morning. I told him we had to do this differently. I told him that we had to have rules because I want this to work so badly— Genie you don’t understand. I’m so tired of running around in circles.” You aggressively bite into another piece of bruschetta. Genie gives you a sympathetic nod, “I told him no kisses, no sex, just honesty. I need him to continue getting help—I need him to talk to Lorraine.”

Her brows shoot up, moving to stand and grab the bottle of wine left uncapped on the counter behind her. Internalizing all that you’ve said, she pours you another glass. “Don’t you think maybe… that won’t be a good idea. Like it’ll bring up old memories.”

And of course you’ve thought about it. You wonder if there’s a part of you who’s just being the jealous little girl you once was, You think that if he came back here, the same person he was in 1986 you’d be a bit crazy for making him talk to Lorraine. But that isn’t the reality, But that isn’t the reality, Lorraine intruded, she placed a wedge in the track of his life. Leaving him even more uncertain than he was before she came home.

There’s a part of Javier that stayed with her, a person isn’t made to be lied to in that way. You’re not sure if you can move on without officially leaving her in the past. 

You shake your head, “Lorraine is more than an old memory. She baby trapped him, attempted to isolate him on purpose, so she could keep him. And it has nothing to do with me—or-me feeling like she was taking him away from me. Even if we weren’t involved she still took advantage of him. It was an abuse of power, simple as that.” You crunch so loud it acts as a closing statement. Genies brows raise a bit, internalizing all that you’ve said. 

Genie is your family. She is your best friend. But she has also never left Laredo, Texas. She has lived her whole life in a bubble. She’s smart, she’s charming, she’s the only woman you’ve ever looked up to. But, she’s also very, very, southern—��You sound so damn therapized. That’s probably healthier than whatever I would have done!” She snorts and she means no harm. 

You laugh too, you love her so much sometimes you forget she isn’t really your sister. 

“What would you have done, Genie Diaz?” You quirk a brow. 

“Spun that bitches jaw at the altar!” 

“She was pregnant!” You cackle and Genie shrugs. 

“You’re right. I forget she didn’t lie about that. I don’t know, maybe spit in her face or something, she ain’t pregnant now. You should try it this time.” She gives up on piling her tomatoes on her biscuit and begins spoon feeding herself. You do the same.

“I’m trying to be good—I want to be healthy and mature about this. “ You say, mouth full of tomatoes. 

You playfully reach your spoon onto her plate, your silverware clanking. You find a scoop anyhow. “Huh. You’re really putting a lot of yourself into this.” 

You frown, because she knows. Because you have to say it anyway. Say it out loud. Face solemn and inward. Everyone always said you could never keep an emotion off of your face. 

“He’s the love of my life, so.” You shrug like it’s nothing to the ear. Genie smiles a small biting thing. You know she loves to hear it, you want to tell her to look away. But you don’t, “I will do anything to make it work. I’ll be thirty in a few years, I want to start building my life with him.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more happy to hear anything in my life.” She taps her spoon against yours, it’s like a hug. Like a kiss on the cheek.

 You tap hers back and burn bright red.  

This shit better work. 

Is the first thing Javier thought of the second you left his house. Feeling aimless and confused, which could be unhealthy but he just figures it just the effects of missing someone so much. 

He unpacks a few things, leaving most of it in its place. He’s ready to leave with you, if you say yes of course. He puts on his fathers records and picks up the living room. His brain was a bit clouded from the pseudo-sex you two had. Banishing himself from replaying it over in his mind. Ears hot with embarrassment and arousal thinking about the way you held his head when he came. 

His semi died in his pants the moment he remembered he needed to just call Lorraine, see if she’s even willing to speak. Javier’s therapist had been suggesting that he do something like this for a few years now. She believed that the way it ended wasn’t truly an end. And it wasn’t, he never got to face her and just ask her why. 

Granted, he’s been too fucking angry and rather never see her again. 

But it was you that asked, so he’ll do it. 

He knows he needs to, it petrifies him. But he wants to be with you so badly, the thought of this not working petrifies him in a whole other way. A way he won’t recover from. So he looks through his fathers phone book and finds her name.

It only took him two cigarettes, a lap around the kitchen and four minutes of silence to ring her. 

It rings twice and he hears a child's screech. Javier feels his world crashing down on him for a second.

“Hello?” 

Her voice makes him go cold. It makes him angry in a way that quickly turns to grief. All in twenty seconds. “Hello?” She asks again. 

He blinks, ashes his cigarette and straightens in his seat. It squeaks the same way it did when he sat half asleep over fifth grade math homework. The thought scares him, he’s been in this house for too long. Change becomes too much when you can pinpoint exactly what you did in that very spot twenty years ago. What he would give to do it all over, to drool over homework while his mother cooked. Instead he sits here with years of trauma, on the phone with one of the perpetrators. He blinks three times, “It’s Javi.”

There's a small breath from the phone, some shuffling and a similar creak that only a wooden chair could make. “Okay…” Is all she can say and he wants to bang his head into the hand sawed table Javier built with his father when he was fourteen. 

“I want to… talk to you. In person.”

“When… when did you come back to the states?”

“That doesn't really matter. When are you free?”

She does something that sounds like a scoff and his ears ring. He closes his eyes and sees you and everything clears up. “I guess tomorrow. Andy won’t be home.”

Javier’s brows furrow, “Who-”

“My son. My parents are taking him to the indoor waterpark. Does noon work?”

His eyes burn, chin usually strong but nearly quivers. He closes his eyes and can only feel heat surrounding his senses. His face an inferno, he feels so uncomfortable in his own skin at just a few words. He feels it, the isolation. Where would he be? How miserable would he have been with her. She speaks to him in that rude passive-aggressive tone she’d give him after a long day of classes.  Like he was a child needing reprimanding. 

He agrees with a simple sure and has what his therapist would describe as a panic attack. He cries again today. He feels stupid, exposed and weak. Unlike a man. He locks himself in his room for the rest of the night, doesn't come down for dinner and avoids thinking of you. He knows you’d cry with him and tell him he isn’t weak or stupid or whatever–he avoids thinking of you some more. He chooses not to be hopeful tonight, and that's what you are for him. 

He feels even more embarrassed when he wakes up at eight in the morning and realizes he fell asleep because his panic attack took the energy from him. He wakes up an anxious mess and he calls you to tell you that he’ll be at your hotel in two hours. He  barely lets you speak beyond the agreement, he wasn’t ready for this yet.

He showers and dunks his face in cold water, hoping his eye swelling will settle. He dresses the way he likes, denim, button up and boots. Burns one on the road, he knows you hate the smell. 

His panic fizzles the moment he pulls his fathers truck into the dingy motel “hotel”. What a rare thing you two have got going. You come out of the room, locking the door behind you and he already feels better. 

His lips twitch in a smile watching you struggle to work the overused key. He stares at what you decided to wear. Looking like a vixen, hair straightened, pencil skirt stretched across your behind taut like it's struggling. A sweater similar to yesterdays, white this time. And heels, like you're on your way to be the sexiest defense attorney in the state. He wonders if you could just forget it, fuck Lorraine, we can be fine without ever speaking of her again. 

Then he panics and looks at his eyes in the rearview mirror, still swollen and he decides maybe you have a point with all of this. He swallows his fear.

“Hi.” You chirp, not too excited for the day but excited to be with him. He furiously avoids  eye contact with you. 

“Hi.” He leans forward to kiss you cheek fast and you feel like an absolute loser for getting full body chills. “You look pretty.” He turns the key and the car rattles. The day is gray and depressing. The moment you opened your eyes alone in the itchy sheets of the hotel, you beamed at the sound of Javier's voice from your temporary home phone. Left sad at the brief tone and the Lorraine related reality check. You stared at the popcorn ceiling and cried for a few minutes. 

You see him now and figure maybe he feels the same way. 

The line between your brows creases, in the way that bothers him. You can’t help being worried about him. He had gone through so much without you. 

You observe his every move as he pulls out the lot without a word. Watching the way his hands look older on the steering wheel, thinking of what they’d look with a wedding band. You see a glimpse of the freckles on his cheeks that seemed to have layover from the Colombian sun. You see that under his eyes are puffy and that he’s clenching his jaw. 

He comes to a light and you can’t help yourself. Your hand flies to the back of his head, nails gently scraping his scalp. He pulls his brows together and leans into your touch. “Hey…its okay we don’t have to-”

He grunts, “Andrea…”

“We can go home, find another way– I can feel how unhappy you are it’s-”

“Andrea, please don’t do that-”

You drop your hand. “Do what.” 

The light turns green. 

“Try to take care of me– try to change the plans just because I’m not happy about it. It's right for us–I want to get it right.”

You frown and your hand feels as if it’s been stung. 

“I can't take care of you?” You whisper. 

He clicks his tongue, “I don’t want you to worry about that. That’s for me to handle.” Still, Javier has yet to look you in the eyes. Your face is filled with heat. 

“No.”

“No, what?” It’s meaner than he anticipates, you can tell in the way his forehead creases. 

“No. That’s not how this is going to work. Yes, I shouldn’t coddle you and I’m sorry for my immediate reaction to you being upset. But as long as I’m around I’ll want to take care of you. Let me have that.” You cross your arms, feeling like a petulant child, also not caring at all. His chest puffs and you can tell he’s about to speak again. You cut him off before he even begins. “You hurt me when you don’t expect me to care just as much as you care about me.” 

He looks at you, nostrils flaring and his face crumbles. He clenches his jaw and you watch the muscles in his face twitch, wanting to shut down and turn away. But he doesn’t, “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just trying—you’re the most important part of my life. I’m not used to feeling this… open.”

“We don’t have to see her today.” 

He chuckles, “No. Now I have to see her today. She was just as callous and cold on the phone as she was years ago. It fucking pissed me off.” 

You smile, leaning your head against the window. “I probably shouldn’t come in with you. For her safety.” 

He snorts, a long loud beep snaps them both out of the little world they’ve created in that truck. Javier looks at the rear view mirror and cringes, before stepping on the gas. “How many times do you think that light changed?” He leans forward and readjusts himself to his regular driving posture. You take a deep breath and just shrug which makes him laugh again. “And I need you to bear witness to her manipulation.” 

“I’ll try to behave.”

He raises a brow at you but returns to be inward. You allow him, he lets music play the rest of the ride.

The lawn is only slightly overgrown. Overgrown in the way that everyone’s lawn is in the winter. Even in a place where you don’t get snow, or really cold weather. Still winter is a feeling, feeling like your lawn isn’t important. There’s a mailbox too, only the last name Smithfield is on it. So she isn’t married which honestly comes as a surprise to you. 

You’d assume in some ironic alliance of the stars she’d get all that she wanted and you’d suffer. Or maybe she realized she needs to be alone in order to figure herself out entirely. 

Javier lets you knock when you ascend the stairs. There’s a cat on a porch swing. It meows at the sight of the two of them. Like the world’s softest guard dog. It makes Javier smile for the first time since he stepped out of the car. 

You aren’t nervous, you had your moment to confront her. You’re not nervous in that way. 

Javi though, you could almost feel it lift from him. Since the moment he picked you up, you saw it in the bags of his eyes and in the way he snapped and hurt your feelings. The way he gets in a headspace where he cares so much about everything and he can’t conceptualize someone else caring for him. 

He’d look into the eyes of killers, men so ruthless, so deeply connected that bringing them to justice is a task nearly impossible. But when Lorraine opens the door his eyes dart to the ground first then to hers. But it’s no use.

Her eyes are on you. 

You aren’t expecting it but it doesn’t show. 

She looks the same, hair still blonde, brighter now like she goes for a touch up once and a while. Her cheeks lost its roundness and she’s skinnier in the way that moms get. When they realize that maybe they should focus on themselves too, fifteen pounds lighter later. There’s not a lick of makeup on her face and her nostrils flare at the sight of you. Then she looks at Javier. 

“Well. Come on in.” She bites out in a tone that seems like an attempt to be nice. She turns and walks straight in. Javier follows first, taking a glance at you and clenching his jaw. The house is nice, modern, and tidy. The front door leads you to a hallway that brings you into the kitchen. Lorraine’s back is still turned. Picking up a toy from the floor and mail from the dinner table and placing it on the counter next to the stovetop. “I made lunch, I wasn’t picturing a third person here.” 

She glances over her shoulder and runs her eyes from the top of your head down to your heels. You smile back and you know it disgusts her. She turns her face back to the food on the stovetop. It’s a casserole, she had no reason to complain about her lack of food other than to assert some pseudo dominance over you. 

It’s laughable, you watch as she serves you a plate as well. 

Javier shakes his head as he notices her comment was unnecessary as well. “Should we sit at the table?”

“Yes. Water?”

“Sure.” You respond and the sound of your voice has her shoulders tensing. 

It’s a brown table with two chairs on each side and two at both of the heads of the table. You and Javier sit side by side. 

Javi places his hand on your knee, soothing you to soothe himself. It makes you frown, it feels like the first time you aren’t hiding yourselves and it’s in front of Lorraine. 

Someone who doesn’t deserve to see. The second Lorraine walks towards them with plates and forks and water and whatever she puts in that casserole Javier straightens up. 

Lorraine settles down and sips her water, her eyes attempt to avoid you but they lose. 

Javier doesn’t like this. 

The way he stares at Lorraine is the way you pictured him staring down the face of officials, criminals, and his boss. It’s like in one moment all the nerves he once had cease to exist, all that was left was the anger he feels and the itch for confrontation.

Her fork drags across the plate in an ear aching screech. She takes a bite, waves the fork gesturing between the two of you. “So? You too finally together?” She says with a smirk, a knowing hint of sarcasm. She talks with the knowledge of her role in all of this. 

Javier clenches his jaw, “No. We aren’t. I just got home.” He doesn’t entertain her 

foolishness.

Her eyebrows furrow, she frowns and looks at you. 

“Ah— that’s unfortunate-“

“Where’s your kid?” You cut her off, taking a sip of the water she served. The smirk is immediately wiped off her face.

“Andy is with my mother. Not like it’s any of your concern.”

“Well my relationship status wasn’t your concern either so I suppose we’re even.” A timer goes off in the kitchen, Lorraine startles. It settles something in you, she’s much more affected than you are. 

She ignores the noise. 

“I want to talk about the wedding—I want you to tell me about it.” Javi sits straight, pushing his lousy dish to the side, it clinks with your cup. He pats his pants, digging for his pack. He taps it against the table. “Can i?” 

Lorraine shrugged. The apartment reeked of smoke anyway. 

Here is where you need to take the backseat. Let him feel. Let him ask. It’ll be impossibly hard to just let it happen but he needs it. He lights up. 

“What do you want to know?” She leans back, food abandoned only twenty seconds into the conversation. 

Javier furrows his brows, like, what a stupid fucking question. “Why. Why did you lie? When did you decide to fucking lie? Who’s the father—just fucking tell me.”

“You were in love with another woman.” She looks at you and you feel that stupid pang of shame. “I don’t know why I fucking agreed to this—why did you bring her?” Her voice breaks but there’s no tears, she’s afraid of being vulnerable in front of you. 

And you want to claw her eyes out. Flip the table over. Call her evil. And yet, you see a girl so insecure—so jaded by what she perceived as normal—and you feel pity beyond belief. 

Javier doesn’t reply, neither do you. Because she knows why you’re here. How life would have been different for them if she hadn’t come back around. She knows, so she frowns and the facade is gone. The act, like she’s above all of this mess, like it was just some thing she did that she got over so he should too. It’s gone. 

Finally she looks at Javier. “I- In high school you—we were so good. I fucked it up— I know. I thought because we already were planning a life that we could be adults and work through it.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I told you I was sorry—for cheating. I told you that you were it for me. That I’d try but it was written all over you. You were over me so fast, I couldn’t understand that. We were together and you were over me. I became the other woman in our own relationship. Watching you fucking glow whenever she was mentioned. Or watching you hold yourself back from talking about her.” She exhales, she avoids your eyes the entire time. Like it could maim her. 

You can’t help it but you do feel an ache in your chest. Javier clenches his jaw once more, his cigarette sizzling before he drags again. 

“I was stressed too, we said horrible things to each other when we were like that. Then we’d make up, and be sweet and it would be good. That’s what couples do…”

“They don’t Lorraine—they shouldn’t. We were worse than horrible when we fought, you know that.”

She shakes her head, “I was blindsided when you asked to separate. You’d say we weren’t together but we’d have sex and you still paid for everything.” 

Your brows furrow and Javier has a face of guilt. Like maybe he doesn’t want you here anymore. 

“We had an agreement.” He says lowly and Lorraine rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her water.

“Sue me then! For still having feelings for an ex boyfriend who is still living with me, paying for my life and fucking me at night.” She slams the cup on the table and your untouched silverware rattles. 

Javier narrows his eyes at her outburst. 

“Lorraine.” He says it like a whisper and her chin quivers. She could play the role of the heartless unaffected woman but she breaks character. “It was… irresponsible of us. Of me. I know that, and I’m sorry. It was six years of confusion and I really am sorry but I’ve apologized for this. Before I left, we had that talk, I was moving out. It was over that spring, you were seeing other people. I was going back home. You tried to baby trap me—that isn’t normal—that isn’t okay.”

“I wasn’t going to—then I saw the two of you at the wedding and my parents they-"

June 16th 1986

Lorraine is sobbing into her hand the second her aching body sits on her couch. Her parents followed behind her. Coming to sit down next to her. She put on a strong face when she walked in on them in the bathroom, telling each other they loved one another. She stared at herself in the mirror and smiled as tears threatened to fall. Her stomach is touching the sink. 

Her parents were livid when she burst into tears on the car ride back. When through a snotty nosed red face she says that Javier was with Andrea. 

They assumed he was the one who knocked her up. But she knows it doesn’t add up, she knows the man who did would never take responsibility in the way Javier would. She knows she can never find him if she tries. One drunken night with a man on a work trip. She continued to cry while they cursed his name, saying that he was less than a man.

“We will figure something out, he’ll step up once you tell him he’s his. You were together for nearly a decade! We know about Andrea. She was a fast little girl, brings shame to her family name.” Mrs. Smithfield paces then pauses to stroke Lorraine’s head. “She’s just a temptation.”

He held Andreas hand, comforted her at the sight of me. That was supposed to be me.

She remembers less than a month ago when she had just come home from her second appointment, getting on the phone with Genie. Asking about them, knowing the possibility of seeing Javier with you when you came back. She wasn’t prepared.

Lorraine hiccups, “I need him,” There it is, the truth. There's a part of her that loves him but most importantly she needs him. Overcome with that fact she can't seem to stop speaking through her tears. “He-he isn’t the father but I need him to be I can’t do this alone I-”

Mr. Smithfield storms out of the kitchen at that.  “Lorraine Marie. What are you saying?” He booms and Lorraine’s mother sits back in the recliner, head in her hands. Lorraine begins to cry more. Burying her head in the crook of her arm. “Sweetheart! Do you know what they’ll say if they find out. Your mother would lose her spot on the board, we’d never be welcomed in the church again.”

He mutters curses he would never dare say outside the living room. Lorraine sees the looks of their disappointed faces. She sees the same face they gave her brother before they sent him away. She thinks of all they’ve sacrificed to be here. To give her this life, their status. She thinks of the way she was brought into this world. A saving grace of her parents' marriage. Her heart clenches in her chest. To help her sleep at night she may say it's at the thought of being with Javier but something tells her it's the thought of taking him from you. 

“I…he doesn’t have to know it isn’t his.” She fills the silence.

Mrs. Smithfield lifts her head and there's a glimmer in her eye that maybe Lorraine should fear.

She accepts it. 

Javier is stone faced the entire retelling. His hand is holding his fist in a ball at the table. Watching Lorraine justify her actions. Excuse after excuse, thinking that pity will save her. At least that’s what you see. Product of her own environment, he wasn’t foolish enough to accept that. 

You hope Javier sees through her, he should. You know he’s worked on this in therapy, he told you he can no longer be manipulated by her.

 She’s rambling, and then she’s silent. She stares at the children’s drawing behind Javier’s head for a few moments and her face crumbles a bit. 

“My father was going to leave my mother. It had gotten so bad that despite his devotion to God and his-his dedication to maintain his image— he still filed divorce papers.” She lays her hands flat on the table then drops it into her lap. “But my mother was determined to keep her husband. She—had an idea of what her life was going to look like and she made sure of it. So she made sure their contraception wouldn’t work— and she saved her marriage with her pregnancy. That’s how I was brought along. That’s what I know — Javi I was going to do anything to have you again-.” She stares at him with an intensity like no other, the eyes of a manic woman. The eyes of a woman who hasn’t grown up. 

Javier shakes his head, and sits up straight. Heat swarming his face, he’s angry and you watch. Still you feel out of place here, you look away to avoid feeling the urge to cry at his pain. Then his voice booms and he’s pointing his finger in her face. “It’s not good enough— you can’t fault your parent’s actions for your own decisions. Choices you made as an adult—a choice you didn’t have to make. We were over, I didn’t want you. Don’t go using the way you were brought up as an excuse.” He leans back in the chair like the burst of anger pained his aching body. He exhales and Lorraine stays quiet.

Your teary eyes stare at the floor parts and look into the eyes of Lorraine. Her chin quivers but she doesn’t cry. She looks at you finally.

“Then what do you tell her? Huh?” She points her chin towards you, crossing her arms. Mirroring Javier’s posture while you perk up. His nostrils flare. 

“What are you talking about Lorraine?”

“Every time you leave her, every time you come back. Do you tell her it won’t happen again? Do you tell her you’re afraid of becoming like your mother so that each time you come home you can fuck up her life, keep her burning for you, and then blame it on it being the only way you know? Do you accept her dependency on you because you know she was neglected by her parents? Tell me Javi. Just fucking say it! Tell me it’s okay for you to be flawed and fuck up peoples lives, tell me I can’t live by those rules.”

You stand so fast, the wooden seat behind you clatters and falls. “Fuck you!” You yell, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about me— you don’t know how hard I've worked to recognize my issues and deal with them! You don’t know about our relationship.” You look at Javier, he’s completely shut down. You reach down and grab your purse, you gesture your finger between Lorraine, you and Javi.

 “You see— the difference between you and us is that we know we’re fucked up. Everybody is fucked up! But we are trying to take responsibility and grow. You—you’re the same mean spiteful girl you were when you made the conscious decision to trap Javier into a marriage.” Javier’s brain catches up with his body only barely when he stands. Lorraine watches his every move like she’s expecting him to stay. 

Your outburst harshly contrasts his tone when he does finally speak again.

“Lorraine—you will always be miserable and full of guilt and anger and fucking resentment for us if you don’t seek some help for your own fucked family trauma.” She stands too, wipes her face and you move away from her. You grab Javier’s hand and he stares at it for a second before following you toward the door. 

You step outside and Lorraine follows after. 

“Javi!” She calls from the doorway, crying hard. His brows furrow at her call, still holding your hand, he turns. 

A crack of sun shining on his face as he looks into the eyes of his former fiancée.

He shrugs, “I never want to see you again. You’ve made my life hell for too long, I'm tired of knowing you. I hope you figure your shit out for your—for your son.” 

It’s a harshness she deserves but a cruelty unlike Javi. You know it takes so much of him to be so headstrong. Your heart breaks for him as he turns away and drops your hand. Walking ahead of you as the sound of a screen door closing ends an excruciatingly long chapter. 

He raises his fist to his mouth in a motion and sounds akin to a cough but you know he’s hiding his tears from you as you follow him into the truck. You swing the door open and settle in, your heart beating so loud in your ears you feel like your cheeks may burst. Shortly he loads in, sniffling and crying in the way that he does. Continuous tears and furious shameful wipes. 

You’re so proud of him. 

You’re brought back nearly four years ago.

You in the car, with your head in your hands. Crying so hard you think you might drown. Replaying each word your father said to you, waiting for a comfort that cannot be provided by a kiss or a hug. But instead—

He wipes his face again with a shaky hand, he can’t seem to find the strength to away. 

You’re reluctant, afraid to overstep, afraid he won’t remember. 

Still you reach your hand over to his shoulder, up his neck and with your pointer finger and thumb you rub his earlobe. His simple gesture of, I love you, I’m your family.

 When he rubbed the beautiful bee earrings he got you in New Orleans.

You love him so much. You’re afraid to say it again. Instead you rub his ear to remind him. A quick pass that his brow relaxes at, your fingers caressing the shell of his ear. He leans into your touch for a moment before going frigid. You frown moving your hand to his jaw, holding his face with your face crumbled. 

You feel young again.

“When we were little—when we were young you’d always avoid talking about your feelings—or your personal problems when all four of us would get deep at 3 am. You’d listen to all of us but you always sat quietly.” You’re rambling but you picture the night.

 The summer before Javier’s freshman year, you, Genie, Frankie and Javier stayed under the stars way past curfew. The night Genie started crying when she told them about what happened with her dad’s friend. That sometimes she feels like the only person in the world who’s struggling. Frankie was already in love with her. He comforted her and talked about his dad. Which was a topic untouched between the two of you. You remember crying for him too.

 You told them about the way you felt inside, you sat there wondering if your brother would feel bad for you. And Javi, young, fourteen year old Javi said nothing. He just gathered you when you cried. And Javi, who still, sometimes says nothing, just put himself out there in a painful display of commitment to bettering himself. 

He knows what you’re talking about because his eyes soften at the mention. “I remember thinking how badly I wanted you to open up. How badly I wanted to comfort you in the way you comforted me-“ He closes his eyes and moves to part from you but you reach back out. “No— no one deserves to be manipulated and hurt in the way she hurt you. And i’m so—so fucking sorry I made you come here I thought it would be good for you-“

“Andrea-“

“No, Javi. Please. At Frankie’s wedding she got in my head— i’ll admit it. She made me feel ashamed of being in love with you—you told me you loved me that night and I’m sorry I didn’t say it back.” He wants to run, you know it, You see it on his face. “I can tell, I know you. She got in your head when she suggested that you’ll find another way to hurt me. But you won’t. I know you won’t hurt me again. You’re only finding a way to hurt yourself and I’m not letting that happen. When you hurt yourself—you hurt me, do you understand?” 

His hands come to hold to your wrists. “I’m not good for you.”

You chuckle through tears, “You think that’s enough for me to leave you alone, you’re out of your mind. Please can we go home.”

His skin is so soft under your palms, “I’m sorry.” He gravels out, voice thick with emotion. You couldn’t care for an apology, you don’t need any. “I—I need to be alone for a moment. I need to process alone I think. I’m sorry.”

Your chest swarms with worry. Your hands drop from the side of his face to his shoulders, you inspect his face and let a beat pass. 

“Are you sure?” You feel desperate. You want him to retract, you’re being bad but you hope he kisses you. He looks at your lips when you think this, he stares at you and looks pained. His hands remove yours from his chest and he turns towards the wheel, starting the car. 

He never answers and you drive in silence. It feels like a closing of a door, you’re not sure which. You look for an olive branch when he pulls into your motel lot. 

“Will you call me?” You ask, you try your best to let him feel on his own. After all, you were the one to put in place all these rules. Javier averts his gaze from you for a moment.

Then he does, his eyes soften at the sight of you. You’re vulnerable and open for him. Standing at the door of his car. “Yes. I will.”

A door inside cracks open. 

[olderthannetfic]

There's some sort of bureaucratic confusion between my doctor and my pharmacy which means I haven't had my weekly T shot in almost two weeks.

And guess what, lack of T is making me angry! So much for all those stereotypes. I've never been more than a day late on a dose since I started years ago, and I've never had to completely miss a dose like this.

I sent a ragey ask the other day before I realised what was up, sorry about that. Just attribute any ask like that to lack-of-roid rage.

-- Just sent an ask about how missing a T dose is causing anger. This isn't a withdrawl thing, this is a return to the hell I lived for over thirty years before I finally got the storebought hormones my body and brain needed all along. So on top of the irritability that used to be part of my baseline mood, I've also got this gnawing fear that living a normal life was something I only got a time and it's over now and I have to go back. Gender stuff is of course the biggest part of it, but there's also an emotional/mental part of it that isn't just being more comfortable in my body. My brain seems to be designed to work properly with a certain amount of testoterone in my system, and without it my emotions get out of whack. My emotions were out of whack from homemade puberty to storebought puberty. I'm also having hot flashes, that's definitely a withdrawl thing.

TBH, it will be hard to tell amongst the sea of rage.

[girltalkcollectives]

👩‍⚕️ Medical Gaslighting: When "It's All in Your Head" Isn't Just in Your Head

Let's talk about something that's been making my blood boil lately: the way women are treated in doctors' offices. You know that feeling when you KNOW something's wrong with your body, but the doctor dismisses it as "just anxiety" or "probably stress"? Yeah, we need to discuss this.

The Numbers That Make Me Angry

Here's what research shows:

Women wait 16 minutes longer than men in emergency rooms

Women are 7 times more likely to be misdiagnosed during a heart attack

Women wait an average of 4 years longer for autoimmune disease diagnoses

Women are prescribed less pain medication for the same conditions

Women's pain is more likely to be labeled as "emotional" or "psychosomatic"

The Common Dismissals We Hear

Sound familiar?

"It's just anxiety"

"Try losing weight"

"It's all in your head"

"This is normal for women"

"Maybe you're just stressed"

"Have you tried yoga?"

"It's probably just hormones"

The Real Impact

This dismissal leads to:

Delayed diagnoses

Worsening conditions

Mental health strain

Lost trust in healthcare

Financial burden from seeking multiple opinions

Chronic conditions going untreated

Women doubting their own bodies

My Personal Experience

[Sharing because we need to normalize these conversations]

I spent years being told my debilitating period cramps were "just part of being a woman" and that I should "take some ibuprofen and use a heating pad." I was missing school, dealing with intense mood swings, struggling with unpredictable cycles, and experiencing cramps so bad I'd be crying. But every doctor just said I had a "low pain tolerance."

Turns out I had a hormonal imbalance that could have been diagnosed and treated years earlier if someone had just listened and run some basic tests. A simple blood test revealed my hormones were completely out of whack - something that could have been treated way sooner. Instead, I suffered through years of unnecessary pain because "bad periods are normal." Spoiler alert: pain that makes you miss school and ball your eyes out for the length of your cycle isn't normal, and we need to stop pretending it is.

What We're Actually Dealing With

Common scenarios:

Being prescribed antidepressants for physical symptoms

Having pain dismissed as "normal period cramps"

Being told to lose weight before receiving actual treatment

Having symptoms blamed on stress before running tests

Being labeled as "dramatic" for advocating for ourselves

Getting different treatment when bringing a male advocate

The Historical Context

This isn't new:

"Hysteria" was once a common diagnosis for women

Medical research historically excluded women

Many medications were only tested on men

Women's pain has been historically undermined

Medical textbooks were written based on male bodies

How to Advocate for Yourself

Practical steps:

Document Everything

Keep symptom diaries

Track dates and times

Record impact on daily life

Take photos if applicable

Save medical records

2. Prepare for Appointments

Write down all symptoms

Bring supporting documentation

List all questions

Bring an advocate if possible

Record appointments (with permission)

3. Use Strong Language

"I need this documented in my chart"

"What else could this be?"

"What tests can we run?"

"I need you to explain why you're dismissing this"

"I want a second opinion"

The Power of Community

We can support each other by:

Sharing recommendations for good doctors

Validating each other's experiences

Sharing resources and research

Supporting each other at appointments

Speaking up about medical gaslighting

Red Flags to Watch For

Be wary when a doctor:

Dismisses symptoms without examination

Blames everything on weight/stress/anxiety

Refuses to run tests

Interrupts or talks over you

Makes you feel crazy for your concerns

Dismisses your pain

Ignores your medical history

What Good Healthcare Looks Like

You deserve a doctor who:

Listens without interrupting

Takes your concerns seriously

Runs appropriate tests

Explains their reasoning

Treats you as an expert of your body

Works with you as a partner

Admits when they don't know something

Moving Forward

We need to:

Share our stories

Support each other

Demand better care

Report discrimination

Write reviews warning others

Celebrate good doctors

Keep fighting for change

To Every Woman Fighting This Battle

Remember:

You know your body best

Your pain is real

You deserve to be heard

Don't stop advocating

It's okay to switch doctors

You're not "too sensitive"

Your health matters

[writing-in-sin]

ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE = BIRTH OF THE OMEGAVERSE

Okay, crazy, I know. I got this idea a few years back while thinking up ideas for a MiSawa fic

You know that japanese media tend to mention the low birth rate in their country? I though the outbreak could happened because of an experiment for increase birthrates gone wrong. Originally, it was supposed to help them increase their birthrate but the formula was too volatile for the body that instead of allowing the patient to have children, it turned patient zero into a zombie instead

Its a lot to do with hormones right? So that volatile formula triggered the body out of whack, and patient zero rejected the change so badly that it detorated the body into a rabid zombie. Kinda like what a rut or heat can do but instead of copulation, it made the victims cannibalistic zombies

Then the outbreak happens

Eventually, one of the mains (Miyuki, in this case for that fic idea I had) would be able to fight against the decay and infection. Which in turn, allows what the experiment originally set out to do and change his body to turn him into the first Alpha. The first Omega would eventually be Sawamura (who is mutually in love with Miyuki) after he was willingly bitten by Miyuki. Their mutual feelings is one of the factors that allows Sawamura to change into the 1st Omega

In summary, Japan would eventually siphon a cure (and vaccine/antivirus for the survivors) from Miyuki and Sawamura's blood. Because of that, the population turn into a world of betas. However, over time the cure within the betas will either stay the same or change them into alpha or omega depending the suitability of their original biology like race, blood type, personality, topography and such

So...yeah, that's the gist of my idea

What I'm surprised with though is that I recently found a manga called 'Zombie Hide Sex'. Recent volumes has this kind of curious setup the other readers pointed out that the Zombie apocalypse could be the origin of the omegaverse for the story

And I'm like, huh!? Does that mean I'm not the only one who thought of this possible premise!? Awesome!

Because seriously, how awesome would that be!? 🤩

Anyways, while I'd love to write a MiSawa fic based on this (apparently not as crazy or rare) idea of mine, i think I'd like to write it for an UmeSaku fic

Won't lie, I'd love to see Umemiya as the original Alpha and Sakura as the original Omega

But honestly, I'd love to see more of this possible premise in other fandoms or for other ships too

[thebluntstudent]

FIVE TIPS FOR STUDYING WHEN ILL OR OTHERWISE INCONVENIENCED...

disclaimer: when at all possible, you should always prioritise physical and mental wellbeing over a good grade. If you are seriously ill to the point where it is heavily impeding your capacity to study, you are not fit to take an exam, or write an essay, and I hope your educational institute has measures for exceptional circumstances/extensions/deferrals to allow you to do so! Alas, it isn't always possible to do the ideal thing in life, and that is where my experience comes into play.

°•☆•°

Sometimes you find yourself in a crappy predicament a couple weeks before an essay is due, or an exam is scheduled, and you find yourself slipping further away from the stacl of textbooks on your desk, and closer to the comforts of your bed and the rest you really wish you had the time to make the most of.

Right now, my hormones are currently out of whack in a way that could meaning anything from (the most likely cause) PCOS to perimenopause at 22 to plenty of other less likely possibilities I'd rather not dwell on. This means that sitting up for more than 5-10 minutes in the same position sends my abdomen into spasms and sharp pains, and generally existing hour to hour is a painful, emotional, hot-flush filled experience.

That being said, I have an exam in a few days, and since deferral is not an option for me (this is my last attempt, I can't take any more time off of uni, my last attempt was last year during a period of several losses that occurred on an interruption year I had taken due to burn-out and unresolved trauma sliding into my life- you get where I'm going with the 'sometimes life is a bitch and your general and academic life can't be pretty and pristine' bit) I have been doing my best to balance comfort and productivity in a way that helps me look out for what I need right now whilst still getting in as much revisiom as I'm able to.

So! I thought I'd share my little tips for building a comfy study space when conditions are not ideal but you still gotta keep moving:

• abandon the 'do not study in bed' tip, but only for as long as it helps you as opposed to hindering you. I have tried sittimg up at a desk with pillows and blankets swathing me- and all I get for it is hefty back pain and constant awkward readjustments every time I start heating up or shift around in my seat too much. If you're ill, you aren't doing yourself any good sitting hunched over a desk either- and frankly your sleep is probably going to be buggered until you're feeling better anyways. So, if sitting at a desk is putting you off, prop up some pillows, rest your writing materials on a hard surface (a folder, an A4 hardback- a chopping board works for a cute wannabe lap desk too), and set a zone of your bed aside (or just use a bedside cabinet if you have one) for anything you'll be using fairly often- by which I mean stationary, textbooks you'll be using over the course of the next hour or so- just enough stuff to save you constantly getting up out of your comfy study bubble.

• listen to tesco: every little helps. What I like to do to get myself going when I'm feeling naff- which works also if you're simply having a difficult time focusing yourself for the day- is to do micro pomodoro sessions, where I'll dedicate myself to 5 minutes minimum of focused study. If I really can't bring myself to continue longer than 5 minutes, I'll let myself rest for a little while (up to 20-30 minutes) before getting myself to do another micro session. This may not seem very productive, but you are more likely to do a good hour of work on a bad day when you tell yourself you only need to do little 5 minute sessions, than procrastinating studying because you feel as if you'll have to sit up and focus for a much longer period of time for it to count. Every. Little. Helps. In 5 minutes you can run through a topic of flash cards, do a slide of lecture notes, answer small exam questions, do a page or two of readings- and on a good day, that 5 minutes might turn into 10 with a small break, then 15, then you'll find yourself picking up your regular pace in no time! But again, even 5 minutes, just one little session, is a win when the world is throwing hurdles at you <3

• maximise your comfort: you know the little things that bring you joy, and you don't habe to be rolling in cash to surround yourself with little things to keep you going when all you want to do is sleep. My current comforts are the loyal presence of my cat next to me, a few old blankets I can swaddle myself in to stare at the ceiling when my ovaries are throwing a tantrum, a little variety of teas (currently rocking a chai latte with home bargains vanilla syrup, girl gotta have her sweet relief), a pack of energy drinks, some painkillers, and a little incense tray nearby that I forget to use 70% of the time (though the remaining 30% makes up for that). None of this is in particular mandatory- if it were, the dog people of the world would be doomed. The point is, find your little comforts- an activity you can do from the comfort of your bed like a puzzle, sensory toy or just a book to doodle in, a certain type of drink or snack you really love, some smellies (perfume, incense, candles, wax melts, and so on), supplies for whatever ails you- little personal things to relax you whilst you try to gather your energy.

• Now is not the time to push it. I tend to find the times in which I am most likely to push myself past my limits are the times in whicj something is inhibiting me- the frustration of being bed-bound, fatigued due to chronic conditions, etc tends to make me feel even more than usual that I am not doing enough because of my awareness of my present restrictions. Though this post is about pusning through bad times, you should be doing so with self-compassion, and with the mindset that every little bit you achieve in your current state is a win, a bonus, even if you find yourself unable to work to the same standard as normal. You aren't well- you aren't supposed to be functioning at 100% because your body is only functioning at 50%, and if you want to get back to your regular stressed student self you need to rest! Remember that a slightly lower grade than you were expecting in the short-term is not a reflection on your character, and it's better to *be* better for the long-term than to work yourself into a ditch and burn-out when you are already at a low point.

• If healthy study you is a carefully rehearsed play, then sick study you is a completely improvised show. Don't knock the analogy, even if it is silly and obscure- when I am at my peak, I will time-block my studies, plan to do certain topics on certain days, do 30-5 or 50-10 study sessions, work during a set period from the morning to the mid afternoon.

When I am ill, I do not know when I will be unable to sit up to work. I do not know when I will be able to sleep, to stomach food, to concentrate- so I have to accept that the normal routines that keep me consistent have to be chucked in the bin for the time being. Instead of planning my whole day, I create a vague, rough outline of the next few things I want to get done. This way, I don't feel crushed when I start working on lecture notes and find myself flat out on my back crying 10 minutes later- I just pick up where I left off when I'm ready, and work in increments from there.

°•☆•°

Right now my sleep is a bit fudgy because of night sweats/panics and p a i n, and by building a cosy space and letting my plans adapt to my body's needs I've managed to get 3 hrs of lecture notes, 2 sets of flashcards, and a set of logic practise questkons done over night between 8pm-4:30am. If I had tried to stick to my regular 'good day' study routine, I don't think I would have lasted 15 minutes before giving up and crawling over to youtube with a bowl of white chocolate and a horlicks in hand.

It is this kind of adaptability to external conditions that allowed me to survive an unstable home situation during college that meant weeks without wifi, constantly moving between different homes and constant fear of eviction due to family debts I was too young to do anything about- and allowed me to get into the top university in London* as a working class girly from a council estate.

I was given the opportunity to do an extra year at college for free due to these circumstances and a great support network within the institute to make sure I got into the specific university that I wanted to, and I had to take an interruption after my firdt yesr of university because I am not a super-human, and I knew my limits- but I'm still going, and the time away I've had has paid off and gotten me back to my scrappy, chaotic, passionately nerdy self.

You can be messy and be a good student too- and you can get through the worst of times with a little adaptability, perseverance, a good support network and a little self care ♡

*Times Good University Guide, 2024.

[an-ruraiocht]

reflections on hormones and medical misogyny and hoop-jumping

in order to start testosterone, i ended up having to pay i think £480 total for three (3) separate appointments with two (2) separate psychiatrists to admit that i'm definitely trans before i could get a referral to an endocrinologist which also cost me several hundred pounds so that they could prescribe testosterone. i was lucky that my GP did the blood tests or i would have had to pay for those too, likewise they took over the prescriptions so i only pay the £9.50ish charge for those rather than the full price, but it was still a hell of a lot of a cash to fork out. i had to pay all of this because the waiting list for a first appointment with the gender clinic is more than five years and bc they make nonbinary people jump through more hoops for referrals than they do for binary trans people following a more conventional transition path. they now test my blood every 3 months to make sure everything's at a healthy level and it's not having a knock-on impact on my organs and they check in regularly about dosage

when i was seventeen i had a single conversation with a GP after which they put me on the combined contraceptive pill, for which i never paid a penny, and which i stayed on more or less continuously (there was one break for a few months) until i was 28. for 11 years this altered my body's hormone levels to the point of suppressing my testosterone to the absolute lowest level that could be considered technically "healthy". it just about performed its required function of making my periods regular and semi-bearable, but along the way this fucked my joints, my muscle strength, my ability to grow body hair, my energy levels, and my ability to concentrate. for eleven years. on the basis of one appointment with a non-specialist as a teenager. they never tested anything except my blood pressure and even that got skipped as time went on and they could dismiss it as "nice and low" while ignoring my chronic anaemia and fatigue

why does fucking with my hormones in one direction require constant oversight and jumping through tons of hoops, and the other doesn't? why are they so alert to the side effects of gender-affirming care, and completely ignoring the side effects of other hormonal healthcare?

it's not that they shouldn't have prescribed me the pill or should have put additional barriers in place; it's that i shouldn't have had to jump through all those hoops to access testosterone. it's not that they shouldn't be monitoring the impact of the testosterone, it's that they should have monitored the impact of the pill. it's not that 17yo me shouldn't have been trusted to give informed consent, it's that 17yo me wasn't informed but was permitted to consent, while 28yo me was informed but not permitted to consent, and had to jump through dehumanising hoops instead to have strangers assess whether they deserved to make choices

they fucked me over with both sets of hormones. they whacked my body's hormone sliders firmly towards the oestrogen/progesterone ends of the spectrum without a second thought, because that was "natural", so fuck the side effects, but they made it as hard for me as possible to try to go the other way. i was anaemic and could scarcely grow body hair and had injuries that refused to heal for years and couldn't concentrate or stay awake for a DECADE but i'm supposed to be scared of the possibility of male pattern baldness? (i mean. i am. but going a bit bald feels a small price to pay for feeling awake when my eyes are open, to borrow a phrase from the raven cycle)

so much of it in both directions is medical misogyny: the idea that i have a particular body which is supposed to behave in a particular way and so the only "solutions" available are those which conform to this, and the lack of research into the actual effects of hormones like oestrogen and progesterone on other health conditions

but what really sickens me is how they say "you can't possibly make this decision, we have to keep people away from these side effects, we don't know what impact this has on bodies long-term" but they'll put a 17yo on the pill and then abandon them despite ten years of chronic illness with no further investigation into how artificial hormone levels might be affecting some of that chronic illness. you can't have it both ways, medicine. either hormones need monitoring and caring about or they don't

access to the pill is healthcare. it should be done on an informed consent model, and needs careful monitoring to make sure it's helping not harming, and adjustments if necessary.

access to gender affirming hormones is healthcare. it should be done on an informed consent model, and needs careful monitoring to make sure it's helping not harming, and adjustments if necessary.

instead you have to fight tooth-and-nail for one and pay through the nose for it, and the other distributed carelessly with little thought or follow-up. i am only now beginning to realise how profoundly i was being fucked over by the pill and just because it also helped me does not mean it was fine that that happened and that, crucially, nobody would have realised it was happening if i hadn't decided to go on T (prompting both investigations into my actual hormone levels, and then perceptible changes once they began to shift). because they did not give a fuck. because it was "natural" for a "female" body to behave like that, right?

anyway idk if i'm gonna stay on T forever but i don't think i could ever go back on the combined pill knowing what i know now about how it's possible for my body to feel when my T level isn't literally 0.5. i'm not thrilled about the idea of going for lucky dip hormone fluctuations given how well that's gone for me in the past but i guess i'll cross that bridge when i come to it. there's got to be some kind of viable option out there for me

[mother-fucker-posts]

mom walking around home naked not thinking anything of it because they're all family, while her daughter is 5 seconds away from taking her mom for herself

It started pretty casual. In fact I think I started it: before my transition it wasn't a big deal for me to walk around shirtless, and that carried over into the first year of HRT. She doubtlessly noticed my tender, perky tits swiftly growing in (and doubling in size once Progesterone started). So, she decided if her self-made daughter would be walking around topless, it wouldn't be a big deal if she did the same.

Unfortunately a side effect of progesterone is putting tgirls into a breeding frenzy. Hormones out of whack, cock painfully hard, it wouldn't take long for me to start fucking those big tits so hard it's like I think it'd get her pregnant.

Maybe that was the plan, after all.

[cakerybakery]

I’m in the mood to write for The Stork, so I’ve being doing a bit of edited and rereading to remember what was going on because I haven’t worked on this since the summer. And I had to laugh that this part.

-

“Half the time that voice in my head has been telling me what a crappy dad I am and how much better you are at being a dad. That you can provide better than I ever could. And shit like, ‘you’re better as the mommy’ and ‘you want to be bred as Lucifer’s cow-wife’. And shit like that!”

Lucifer looked into pissed off Adam’s black and gold eyes. He couldn’t stop the shit eating grin spreading on his face. “Cow-wife?”

He swiftly found himself being smothered by a pillow.

-

The coincidence makes me laugh cause I finished up that mpreg part two of Milk Snake where Adam is a cow sinner for Taters the other day.

The Stork Adam of course looks human

With only his horns, teeth, and eyes making him outwardly demonic, so the cow-wife thing is his brain being mean to him. And of course this story isn’t an mpreg. River was delivered by a stork.

The plot being that back in Eden, Adam had a fight with Lilith and demanded an angel make it so he could have babies with someone else, he didn’t care who and threw out Lucifer’s name. Demanding like a spoiled brat that he and Lucifer have babies instead. And so this little angel finds himself tasked with figuring out how to get Adam what he wants, as the angel is supposed to give the humans whatever they want, without altering Lucifer or Adam to be able to get pregnant because that’s not an option either person (or heaven) would go for.

He founds the Department Of Miracle Babies. He’s the reason behind myths about where babies come from cause he’s testing them out on people on Earth that ask for kids. But keeps getting in trouble and having to stop. Plus he’s trying to figure out the wording of the contracts so the baby won’t starve to death.

He finally thinks he’s got it, and now he’s trying to sort out how to get them a baby without getting one of them pregnant when he leaves his office for the first time since Eden and realizes it’s been 10,000 years and he is VERY late on getting Adam that baby. So he slaps together the contract and sends them a baby in hell via a stork (breaking the rules but fuck it, he’s late!)

Adam signs without reading the documents. Lucifer pisses off the stork and gets attacked by it. He signs to make it stop hitting him. Adam opens the basket up and is immediately flooded with postpartumhormones as he signed to be the biological mother of their daughter.

And the story from Adam’s side is him navigating his hormones, being the primary caregiver of an infant almost completely on his own (he’s incredibly protective of her), his feelings about Lucifer, and his struggles with what he was taught in Eden about needing to be a man/father and the reality of the situation that he can’t fulfill that role he was taught he was created to be and has to be River’s mother. She needs his breast milk to survive.

From Lucifer’s side it’s struggling to connect with Adam because he doesn’t understand why Adam has been antagonizing him for months, he’s in survival mode, just trying to keep Adam happy because his emotions are out of whack in order to pry their daughter out of Adam’s overly protective hands. Trying to understand and when they both finally realize Adam’s had a crush on Lucifer for eons it sends Lucifer reeling a bit. At first he’s pleased, no issues, then he remembers, he’s still married. Not happily. Lilith has been trying to divorce him for years but Lucifer is wracked with guilt over causing her to fall and their early lives that he’s kept telling himself if he can just make up for it, she’ll be happy. He eventually realizes the way to make her happy is to let her go. That the past is in the past and he can’t make himself and her miserable to reveal himself of the guilt for what happened. It’s okay for him to be happy.

[modern-inheritance]

A funny little story regarding house names

So, Arya starts out by introducing herself formally as 'Arya, House of None.' It's the proper way to do it in elf society, as a further slight to the banished/disowned, and it's very VERY ill advised to attempt to adopt in someone who was banished from their house, especially if it was the head of house or the monarch who did it. It is supposed to last and be a stain.

Trouble was...the humans and dwarves weren't really familiar with the elves houses.

This is where I get to branch off and tell a funky little Ket story. See, as an early teen/middle schooler, I was an early bloomer and got really bad acne. Coupled with some meds I was taking for ADHD, I developed some bad habits that was just...not ideal. So I got put on this really REALLY powerful anti-acne drug called Acutane. It can cause absolutely gnarly birth defects, so for anyone to be prescribed it for the month you have to go to the dermatolgist's office, take a pregnancy test if you're female/have the equipment, take an online quiz/sworn statement that you understand the risks to the fetus if you are engaging in sexual activity unprotected, watch a whole 5-10 minute video about proper safe sex/protection methods (a quote from the video that always stands out to me because it made me and my babysitter bust out laughing was, in a dramatic Victorian distressed tone, 'we were using withdrawal, but this time...withdrawal didn't work!' and there was a good fifteen second pause before I piped up with 'wait did they mean...pulling out?') and, drum roll, two forms of birth control!

Ickle me being probably 11 or 12 when I first started this stuff, I wasn't on hormonal birth control. Thankfully, one of the options was 'abstinence.' The nurse practitioners would be the ones going over this with me, and they would be the ones filling out the form online, and whenever they came to the two forms of birth control, they would vocalize "Two forms of birth control used are Abstinence and None."

Now, I was a smart kid. But I was certainly not the smartest. And for the longest. fucking. time. I swore they were saying 'Nun.' As in, convent nun. Nun married to jesus or god nun. And not wanting to mess anything up, I just didn't say anything. I wasn't religious, but I didn't want holes in my face, so I let them keep calling me a nun.

YEARS later, when I was getting back on it after a few years off because things got whack with some new meds and news stressors, I finally saw over the nurse's shoulder as she input this stuff.

None. N-O-N-E. Not fucking 'Nun.'

So, similarly, for the longest time, the Varden put down Arya's last/family/house name as 'House of Nun.'

Arya finds this out while going over a medical file with someone like 30 years after she joins and literally pops two stitches in her side because she's laughing so hard at it. Explaining that she's banished from having a house or family hurts way less when you're trying to explain that sort of mix up.

[anime-kia]

No Strings Attached

I'm happy to know that you're all still into Killmonger! :)

And I haven't written smut in a while, so here you go.

Relationship: Friends-With-Benefits

Warnings: Smut 

It was nothing out of the ordinary to find yourself being filled up and absolutely overstimulated by the brawny, muscular and handsome, Erik Stevens. The Oakland ho', is what you nicknamed him. 

He knew. You made sure to tell him, but he found it quite amusing. Nothing really offended him, coming from you anyway. 

Erik had met you in high school. Of course he was Mr. Popular. You've heard of his escapades and all the wild things he's done with various girls, some of them being your friends. Oddly enough, sex was not interesting to you at the time. 

You were known as the typical smart and shy girl. The virgin. Erik's favourite kind of female. You better believe he's been trying to get at you ever since, literally going out of his way to become friends with you just so he could get into your pants.

But eventually he realized that you were more than just a quick nut. You were goofy, insightful and a pleasure to be around. Your lack of sexual curiosity and attention to more important things intrigued him. Also, he could always go to you if he was upset, you let him vent and express all of his emotions. Not once did you judge or ridicule him like his foster parents or anyone else who didn't give him the time of day to show his feelings.

"Venting is good for the soul, never bottle up your anger. Always talk to me if you need to. Cry on my shoulder too." 

"Hell nah, I don't cry. I ain't no bitch."

You were irritated that the only thing he took from what you said was suggesting that he cried... But Erik understood, he just liked to be tough.

That being said, ever since the tenth grade you and Erik were best friends. Both of you slowly started picking up each other's good and bad habits. Erik started to develop proper mannerisms, politeness, and a bit of patience. You on the other hand, started cursing a lot more and somehow it was like his high levels of horniness had attached itself onto you.

Each year it increased more and more. Everyone knew you as the girl who had no interest in sex, and despite your changes, you made sure that everyone still believed that. Also, people who wanted to have a go at you (Erik's friends) knew they had no chance with him around. He made sure they knew that too. 

"If any of y'all touch her, you better pray I don't find out. And good luck with that shit, cuz she tells me everything."

One night, he came over to chill and watch movies because that's what friends do. You were still a virgin, and your hormones were out of whack. Erik, well... When was he never horny? The movie ended and went to go take a shower, and the whole time you were contemplating if you would actually let him hit it. 

He was never reserved when it came to anything sexual. He told you he wanted to on multiple occasions, no strings attached. 

Tonight... Would finally be the night.

As he stepped out of the bathroom your jaw dropped slightly and lower half screamed. The towel was barely hugging his hips, muscular body covered in beads of water, the shape of his manhood barely making an appearance. 

All that shy shit was thrown out the window. Within three seconds your lips had found his, arms wrapped around each other in a heated and passionate kiss. By a minute, all of your clothes were discarded and Erik had his way with your body. 

There was pain and there was pleasure, but you both knew that sex with each other would become a regular thing. 

Once again, no strings attached.

Erik had you laid out on your back, legs spread wide as his large hand squeezed your right breast and you moaned out. Every single stroke hit you in the right spot. 

"You like that shit, huh princess? Lil freak." His voice was husky and gruff.

"Mmh, yes! Oh fuck!" You whined as he moved closer and went even deeper. 

His size made you wonder if it could be considered a weapon, because it was deadly. It was like God gave him both the size and the talent, a terrible (but utterly amazing) combo. You were sure if he was small he could still get you screaming at the top of your lungs. He just knew exactly what to do, and he did it before you could even ask him to go "deeper" or "harder". 

He's made you cry, scream and blackout all at the same time on multiple occasions. The location didn't even matter. Despite him being a very big guy, he could fuck you all the same in a Mini Cooper. 

And Erik was a freak freak. He hasn't shown you everything, because you were still adjusting to some of it, like public sex. That was always terrifying to you, but for some reason no one caught you yet. As far as you know...

"I'm killing your shit, right?" It wasn't a question, even if he asked it as such. He knew. 

"Yessss!" You moaned in a high pitch. He was killing it, destroying it, obliterating it all in the best way possible.

Your nails clawed at the bed, his strokes were so precise and on beat. You had a love-hate relationship with being in the missionary position with him. It was like the perfect mix between making love and just straight up fucking. Backstrokes were a lot easier to handle, even though it still could have you tapping out. But missionary, Erik assumed full control in this position. He had your mind was muddled and the only thing you could compute were barely coherent words, lots of moaning/screaming/crying and the intense amount of pleasure this man was delivering in between your legs.

You felt his hands attempt to trail up behind your knees to push them into your chest and you knew if he did, it would be over. You pushed back and tried shuffling away, but he caught you dragging you right back fully onto him before you could get more than halfway off. The sound of you connecting back was sinful.

"Nah shorty, ain't no crawling away." He said, hoisting your legs over his shoulders, "I'm tryna go deep." 

As if he wasn't already hitting your g-spot, this nigga was trying to damage your cervix.

"No, wait E-!" The way his hips pressed against yours, followed by his chest had your eyes squeezing shut. "God, ohh my fucking- Ohhh!" He was so heavy.

"So you'll call me God, but you won't call me daddy, huh? That's crazy." 

"Uhh, shut the fuck up, Erik!" You could do without his annoying ass comments at the moment. Right now, you had to make sure your walls would still be intact when he was finished with you. 

He chuckled, changing the rhythm to a medium speed. He sucked on your neck, surely leaving new marks. "I own this shit. All mine." He smirked.

"Y-you're too d-deep, ohhh!" Your moans were starting to come out as whimpers and that's how Erik knew you were just about spent. 

"No such thing, baby girl." He groaned and leaned off of you, only to drag your hips slightly into the air, "Look how yo' pussy wrapped around my dick, like a birthday gift." He watched as his length disappeared and reappeared into you.

This motherfucker... "It's too much, p-please, Erik!"  

"Tell me it's mine then." He hit you with deep and sharp thrusts after each word.

"Ahh! It-it's yours! Oh fuck!" You tried to say to the best of your ability, just so he could hurry up and finish.

"Say it like you mean it, I can feel you shaking. That nut is real close, but best believe you ain't getting it until you say it right." He was so bloody annoying, as if you hadn't came four times already. But then again, he hasn't pulled out since laying you on your back. He probably thought you were just squirting the whole time.

His thumb pressed hard against your clit, and his cold eyes stared dead into yours. His hips were circling into yours once again.

"Fuuckk, Erik it's yours dammit! This pussy is all yours!" Your moaned out exasperatedly, nails leaving imprints on his bedsheets.

He chuckled at your irritated tone, settling for your answer. That was his favourite line to hear during sex. "Imma nut all in yo' shit, girl." You had already came, squeezing around his dick even tighter. He was very close to releasing so he thrusted into you harder and faster, not missing a beat until he finally emptied himself deep into you. 

You both were breathing with heavy laboured breaths by time he pulled out. You were aching, but also experiencing pure euphoria. 

He got up and left to go to the bathroom, giving you time to recuperate.

Though Erik wouldn't admit it, you had the best pussy he's ever had. He hadn't been messing around too much after finally getting a piece of you. He's never made love before, and the closest he's gotten was fucking you slowly. You two were strictly friends and he would keep it as such. He didn't want you knowing that he was getting attached. It made him feel weak. 

You on the other hand, seemed unfazed by it. He could do things with your body that no one could, but yet still you respected the boundary between romance and friendship. Besides, sex was so casual these days. Pussy and dick was everywhere...

When he got back in the bed, he pulled his phone off the nightstand and began scrolling through his Twitter timeline as if nothing just happened. Something compelled you to get closer to him, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his rough chest. The muscles in him tensed up.

"Yo, whatchu doin', girl?" 

"It's just... We always fuck and that's it. Can you at least hold me till I fall asleep, E?" You looked at him with innocent eyes, he loved that.

"Nah, I don't cuddle. No strings attached, remember?" He gently pushed you off of him. 

You sat up and pouted, folding your arms across your bare chest. "It doesn't even have to be on no relationship shit, Erik..."

"No, (y/n), we do this every time." He gave you a stern look, you hated that.

You rolled your eyes and turned over, shutting off the lamp. "Goodnight, I guess..." 

"Night." He said, paying you no mind. 

Ten minutes later, he shut off his phone and glanced at your delicate sleeping frame. He silently laughs, seeing how far away you moved. You were upset, he could tell. 

"Never go to sleep upset." You would always be the one telling him that, it was a shame that you hadn't practiced what you preached. 

He would be lying if he said that it did feel good when you wrapped around him, even if it was for a few seconds. Erik had never cuddled after sex, he thought that would cause people to catch feelings. He also didn't want the girl he just slept with to ask him dumb questions afterwards like, "Why me?" or "What would you do if I died?" Just shit that he wouldn't have the answer that they're looking for.

He pulled your body closer to the centre of the bed, as you were too close to the edge and shut off his lamp.

You were awoken to the irritating feeling of needing to pee. You tried to spring up quickly, only to be held down by a tight and heavy grasp. Soft snores from the man you slept with less than three hours ago filled your ears. 

Wait... Was he... Cuddling you?!

Mr. "I don't cuddle" really had his big ass arms wrapped around your body. Not to mention, but he was knocked out like a baby.

This all would be so nice if your bladder wasn't threatening to explode right now. 

"Erik." You whispered, and tried to get out of his grasp. He didn't respond or seem aware of your presence. 

He was really knocked. Usually the slightest noise and movements would wake him up. 

There was one time you were opening a bag his favourite bag of chips while he was napping on your sofa. You didn't even open a quarter of the bag and he was already up, snatching the whole bag out of your hands.

You elbowed him a little roughly, and called out his name even louder. "Erik!" 

He groaned in pain, "Argh, damn girl. The hell was that for?"

"I need to go pee."

"Then go, you grown." 

"Nigga, I can't with your arms holding me down."

"Ah shit." He whispered to himself, letting you go. 

"I thought you didn't cuddle." You teased him.

"I don't." He denied.

"Erik, you really about to act like you weren't just holding me against your chest." 

"You probably scooted in to me." He tried to argue back.

"E, that doesn't even- You know what?" You got up from the bed, and looked at the digital clock. "Not at four in the morning, aight?" You went to use the bathroom and left Erik to contemplate.

He wasn't cuddling you initially, but at some point he must've connected with you. You were the most comforting person to be around in all aspects. Even when you argued with each other. He was so content and peaceful whenever he was around you. 

You came back and went right to the edge of the bed, surprised when Erik pulled you back in. His arms wrapped protectively around your body.

"Erik, wha-" 

"Shut up, (Y/n). I'm trying to sleep." He said in a raspy voice.

You rolled your eyes for the last time and closed them, deciding you were too tired to scold him for telling you to shut up. 

If he wasn't a cuddler before, he definitely is one now.

Hope you all enjoyed! I didn't add too much of a romantic relationship because I really wanna explore different types relationships with Erik and the reader. Plus I had another plot idea to link with this one, but I'll save it for another. 

I'm also very tempted to edit this now, but it's almost five a.m. and I'm sleepy so I know there will be so many mistakes if I do lol. 

Thanks for reading!

(Start/Finish: June 25, 2019)