#anyway i have heating pad and chugging water

[bamsara]

ok no yeah i hate human hormones and body chemicals actaully because the anxiety caused some physical symptoms and i had muscle spasms and speech problems for 30ish minutes and i havent had a Moment™️ like that in like 6 months, i think this game is rigged

also, i should stop drinking caffeine. again. attempt 2# at quitting caffeine i believe in us

also 2x i want to art stream. i want to draw. i will force this body to my will

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev chapter

“Just – don’t do it, Lance. I don’t want you to end up in the west wing, or things are going to get bad in here.”

If Lance is being entirely honest, he has no desire to deviate from Hunk’s directions. At least he didn’t. If Hunk hadn’t said anything, it probably wouldn’t have even occurred to Lance to go to the west wing anyway. This is the second time he has been warned away from the west wing, now. If Lance was curious before, he’s burning with it now.

But Hunk is his friend, and he’s doing him a favour, so he bites his tongue and nods his head and walks down the way Hunk instructed him too. It helps that he’s ravenous, and is more focused on food than anything. 

But he won’t lie and say that he doesn’t have to force himself away from dark hallways and beckoning shadows.

———

“Oh, Lance, hello!” Colleen greets him enthusiastically when he walks in the door. Lance wiggles his fingers at her in a small wave. “I’m glad you came out, dear. I was worried.”

“Got hungry.”

“Of course, of course. Sal, heat up the food, will you?”

The giant wood burning stove in the corner of the kitchen chugs to life, vent forming an enthusiastic grin. The sound of frying meat and salted potatoes fill the air, making Lance’s mouth water.

The kitchen is quiet at this time of night; warm. It makes him think of his Abuela, on the many nights when neither of them could sleep, guiding his hands as he kneaded dough, sliced meat, prepared vegetables. Things he can do easily, now, without thinking, in a way he has never been able to do with a plow or bailer. Things that form callouses on the tips of his fingers rather than the pad of his palm. 

He shakes his head, shoving the thoughts in the back of his mind. It doesn’t matter, now. The food is warm and smells heavenly, and more importantly, there’s no screaming fiancé to reckon with. 

He scarfs back the food so quickly his stomach aches, forgetting to be self conscious. Colleen’s laughter is only teasing, after all, and there is no one else to see it. He smiles sheepishly at her and wishes her goodnight as he finishes his third plate, watching her hop off to a cabinet. 

Slowly the lights in the kitchen fade as candles burn low and the embers of the oven start to die out, shadows shifting on the cluttered walls and full shelves. Lance picks up one of the newer candles before the kitchen goes completely dark, placing it gently in a (non-animated, thankfully) teacup to guide him down the corridors. He remembers Hunk’s instructions, pausing for a moment to flip them in his head so he won’t get lost in the wide, dark hallways – left, left, right; now left, right, right. Stick to the path. 

He walks out of the kitchen, closing the heavy door gently so as to not wake anyone. He takes his time, not quite comfortable in the dark but not quite afraid, either; his shoes, worn and thin, provide a light enough cover that he can almost feel the smooth marble floors on the soles of his feet, and his free hand traces along the wall as he walks, feeling the rough bricks and occasional soft tapestries. He keeps his candle close to his face, both to help him see and to try and soak up some of the tiny flame’s warmth. His cloak is back in the servant’s quarters – his room – and the castle is warmer than outside but barely. 

His fingers brush over a soft tapestry, threads so thin and tightly woven he can barely feel the difference between them, and then brick again, and then air. He pauses, holding his candle a little further from his eyes and squinting to make out what’s in front of him. 

Difficult to see in the low candlelight, a massive stained glass window towers in front of him. The colours are too dark to make out, but when he places the candle at the base of the window and steps back, he can see the vague shapes of a young man, tall and regal and dark-haired, holding a sword and standing in front of a castle. Below him are panels of farmland and forest, and beside him are orchards, vills, estates. Above him, to the right, is a shining sun. To the left, a crescent moon.

Left, right, right. Don’t veer off the path. 

Lance bites his lip, and follows the path of the moon.

The corridor, somehow, seems colder. As if the bricks are further away from the sun, no longer leaching the warmth collected as it was shining. The darkness seems blacker, too; heavier almost, and soon his candle burns down to the base, extinguishing, leaving him to stumble forward completely blind. He reaches out to steady himself, to trace the wall to stay on track, and has to choke back a scream when he feels a face instead of a wall, sharp teeth digging into the flesh of his palm, snarling and furious. It takes him several minutes to calm his racing heart, work up the courage to reach forward, again, touch the face, map curve of the stone jaw, curling horns, and twisted, scowling mouth. A gargoyle, although Lance has never heard of one inside before.

“Rich people are so goddamn weird,” he mutters to himself. 

Shaken but determined, he moves forward. 

As he creeps forward, more and more carvings dot the walls, each one angrier and angrier. At one point he has to pull his hand away, continuing forward on his legs alone, because he fears cutting himself on teeth that only appear to get sharper, brick that only seems to get rougher. He keeps his arms extended, moving forward slowly, cautious of what might be in front of him, too scared to stumble.

Eventually, his knuckles hit a door, the sound of the slight impact bouncing off the walls and echoing down the hallway. He flattens his hands against the grainy wood, mapping out the knots, the iron studs and hinges. He’s surprised to feel the lock pulled free. He wraps his fingers around the door handles and tugs, pulling the door open with a groan.

Moonlight spills into the hallway. It’s silvery and faint, but it’s enough that Lance can see the outline of his hands, even vaguely in front of him. He pushes the door open further, wincing at the slight creak, just wide enough for him to slip in. 

The room is…huge. And destroyed.

Inside, it’s even easier for the moonlight to lift some of the oppressive shadow. It’s not bright by any means, but the window that makes up the back wall is massive and clear, and the doors are wide open, letting the full moon spill into the crowded, dusty room. Lance steps cautiously forward, hands still extended, looking around with wide eyes. 

Broken furniture litters the floor, leaving splinters and shards of metal everywhere, casting long shadows on the wall. Lance is careful to step around it, but in his attempt to steer clear he very nearly walks into one of the many torn drapes and tapestries hanging from the walls and ceiling. He ducks at the last second, avoiding a facefull of it, but he still nudges it with his shoulder, causing a cloud of dust to fall to the floor, powdering his face and hair.

“Aw, that’s fucking disgusting,” he says, swiping it off his face and resisting the urge to throw up. He shakes out his hair, hyperconscious of how little it actually does, hoping that there is some kind of well he can find on the grounds in the morning to bathe. Or, God, maybe even a real bath! With hot water! It’s a castle, after all. There should be.

He looks again at the state of the room, with the shattered glass all over the wall and holes punched into the plaster walls. Paint is peeled or scratched off in many areas, especially where decorative fabric has been torn, or where coat racks or lampposts have fallen, scratching the walls on their way down.  On second thought, hot water baths seem too nice for this shithole.

A glint catches his eye, and he lifts his head just to find himself face to face with his own fragmented reflection, startled expression mirrored back to him, brown eyes wide and eyebrows creased. Half the glass is missing, and the rest of it is spiderwebbed, in shards. The ornate carvings of the mirror’s frame have been half-crushed, like the whole giant, floor-length thing was picked up and smashed on the floor. 

Sufficiently spooked, with his abuela’s warnings of bad luck ringing in his ears, he starts to turn away, unsure if he can be cursed if he didn’t break the damn thing but unwilling to take his chances. He's in a rough enough situation. He can’t really afford to make it worse. But as he moves forward, he catches sight of another face reflected out of the corner of his eye, and whips around to face it, hand curled protectively over his heart. 

“Oh,” he breathes, air knocked out of him, transfixed on the portrait across from him.

It’s painting, or at least, it was. Like everything else in the room it’s been destroyed, half the man’s face shredded cleanly away. Left only is the shining thickness of his dark hair, the length of his pale neck, and the perplexing, swirling indigo of his eyes. He looks hauntingly familiar, in the way a name on a tombstone brings on a shudder of vague recollection, a chill down one’s spine.

Wary and curious, Lance slowly reaches forward, pinching the corner of the ripped flap of canvas with his thumb and pointer finger, cognizant of the accumulated grime, and hesitant for a reason he doesn’t understand. Slowly he begins to flip the canvas up, running his pinkies along the rejoining seams, too dark to make out the rest of the painting quite yet but noting the strong chin, sharp jawline, regal set of the shoulders – 

A red light pulses, suddenly, nearly blinding the room, and Lance’s eyes squeeze shut on reflex, hands dropping to his sides. He turns slowly once it has faded, heart pounding, and sees to his great shock a flower, encased in glass, floating atop a small table, glowing as brightly as a ruby.

As if in a trance, he walks towards it, tripping over a table but quickly righting himself, eyes glued to the flower; noting the way it seems to rotate, almost too slowly to track, and sparkle like freshly fallen snow in early sunlight. He stops when he gets close, admiring it in almost a single-minded focus; the deep, dark green of the stem, the sharp thorns in great number along it, and the softly glowing pinkish-red of the three triangular petals. Lance has seen nothing like it before, not in his sister’s garden, not sold in the town square, not even wild. The flower is enchanting, and Lance is reaching out before he can stop himself, pressing careful hands to the glass and lifting it quickly, setting it on the floor and standing again as fast as he can manage, unwilling to take his eyes off the flower for even a second.

He’s nervous, now, as the flower lays without barrier, brighter and softer alike in the cool air and silver moonlight. His reach to touch it is slow, almost as if he must caress the air around it first, single finger poised to rest gently on the widest petal.

A shadow suddenly dwarfs him. He rips back his hand at light speed, but it’s too late, and Prince Keith snarls at him, teeth bared and mouth twisted and far more horrifying than any gargoyle.

He says nothing for a moment. Condensation huffs out of him in a cloud in the cold night, enveloping his head like a halo of smoke. In the next second he’s leaping forward and Lance doesn’t have time to move, doesn’t even have time to pray, can only let out a strangle shout and sharp inhale. 

But Keith does not claw him to death, or sink his teeth into Lance’s heart. He only slams the glass case back over the flower, wrapping himself around it almost protectively, mouth still twisted and eyes still angry and cold.

“Why did you come here,” he hisses, stalking towards him, matching every step Lance takes backward. His claws scratch on the floor with every step. 

Lance says nothing.

“What about this place seemed inviting to you?” Keith’s voice is low, carefully controlled. With every word Lance’s heart lurches, and with every step his lungs get tighter and tighter. “What about the darkness and closed door made you feel you had the right to enter?”

There’s no overt animosity to his tone, no animation. His voice is flat; deadly. This is not some kind of banter; there is no upper hand for Lance to gain. This conversation doesn’t need him at all. 

This is a cornering. A final toying with a trapped animal.

“It’s only a flower,” Lance manages, and the words are barely out of his mouth before Keith roars, a hundred times louder than before, shaking the very ground with the force of it. There is nothing human or humane about it. 

“Do you realise what you could have done?!” he shouts, so mounstrous it reverberates in Lance’s bones. He slashes wildly, splitting an already broken chair in two, flinging the halves at the wall.

Lance presses himself against the wall, as far away from him as he can manage, breath coming in short pants. “I didn’t mean –”

“Get out!” Keith booms, and Lance doesn’t waste a second.

He turns around, and he flees.

— — —

next chapter

[whore4mattsstubble]

td i didn't feel good bc i had really bad cramps but i could stay home bc i have exams

but i sat out in pe and a few boys were making fun of me and kept saying i was a "lazy bitch" and i literally started crying bc of my stupid fucking period and they kept making fun of me but my teacher (who's a boy) understood what was happening bc i told him earlier so i could sit out and he made the boys do 50 burpees 🤧🤧 and he made sure i was ok

anyway, do you have any advice for getting rid of cramps or like calming yourself down on your period

heat pads. hands down the BEST thing ive used to help my cramps!

also advil\asprin

any other paracetamol or painkiller, sleep and CHUG THA WATER GIRL.😜 and win pe teacher😘

[restlesscrybaby]

Could you do Jack x reader on their period please? I completely understand if you can't due to keeping it gender neutral! It's the time of the month for me and it's been a little tough but it's absolutely okay if you don't want to!

GRAAAH Periods suck!! Surry this isn't in usual format, more of like actual headcanons !! Tryna chug these out for yall ^^!!

~~~~~~~~

~ JACK HORNER PERIOD COMFORT HEADCANONS. ~

~~ P.S. a lot of these are silly, just for laughs, since I hoped it'd make you feel better! ~~

~ SURRY PEOPLE WITHOUT UTERUSES! THIS IS FOR ONES WITH ONE 💪💪💪 ~

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Let's be honest here..

Jack doesn't understand them tbh.

I mean YEAH HE DOES I'm sure, just.. Not in a good way.

100% asks you what the fuck the difference between a 1 (one) sized pad is and a four (4) sized pad is.

'Can I use your hand as a heating pad?'

"... Why the fuck would you need me to do that?"

After some pleading, he does it.

His palm faces down upon your uterus, where it aches the most, as you relax.

Pie is probably your biggest period craving now.

I mean, you're constantly around it, the smell of it, tbh you can't get away from it.

Let's be honest, you've probably bled out by accident.

Confused pointing?

Panicked screeching.

It took him only a second for it to click. But, he just cleaned it up.

Sometimes, he wanted to rip it out your body.

You got very moody too, but you also got very agitated. Or, heartless, depending on what kind of uterus sufferer you are!

Oh, and the body aches.

Honestly, when you'd show that you were aching, he'd get a tinsy bit worried.

Just a tad.

Or, if you preferred tampons,

Oh the horror.

You showed him how one worked. Just on a glass of water.

Terror.

"THAT? GOES INSIDE YOU? AND JUST.. EXPANDS?"

Yes. Infact it does. Surry Jack.

Don't tell him it can get stuck inside if you rip the string by accident.

Don't let him learn what a diva cup is.

Or, if you prefer diva cups. Yeah. That.

You tried to show how it worked.

A simple pinch, using your fingers curved into an okay hand, showing how it did that.

Horror.

Why does it do that...

More of, did you just have to reach in and pull it out? How does that work.

You probably had to explain it for an hour.

When he had to buy these products, he probably wanted to throw a fit at the prices. But money is money. Whoever made them made money, that's how the world worked.

Maybe he should figure out how to make these products. I wonder if he made simple things like that if he'd get even more money, sorry, anyway!.

But, when you laid in bed and whined out how bad everything hurt,

He couldn't help but feel..

Somewhat bad.

He'd place his palm against your lower belly, using his hands heat to try to warm it up and ease that screaming cramp attack.

Sometimes, he'd be kind enough to get a shower running for you, and set out a robe and fresh clothes. Help you if you needed him too,

He wasn't too good at making an impression during times like this,

But he made just enough,

When he'd walk in the door,

A bag in hand, a smile upon his face,

"I remembered your size this time."

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

[4dtk]

heloo! can I request hand-holding (3), kisses (6, 12) hugs (32) and touching (12) with renjun, thank uu^^

why do my renjun drabbles always end up so long LOL . btw age old kiss under the mistletoe <3 never too early for x’ams imagines i guess LOL, enjoy!!!

hand-holding, 3: cold hands in warm hands

hugs, 32: long-lasting hugs

kisses, 6 & 12: slow kisses, kisses on the corner of their mouth

touching, 12: pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

renjun’s eyes couldn’t leave yours. well, more of your body as you talked with mark, gesturing grandly about his new single that he dropped. he remembers you playing it whenever you met up, rapping the lyrics back to him that only had renjun groaning in embarrassment. staring around the room, he scans over the members in the party with a smile. having had taken a rest from the all the alcohol earlier, he was glad to be left alone to his… indulgences where no one could interrupt him.

“hey.”

“gah! wh- what the hell?” haechan shocks him out of his stupor, easily avoiding a smack on the back from renjun. his laughter gains attention from others, but otherwise they just return a cheeky laugh back while conversing. soon, the other is able to pick up on his loneliness, partially blaming it on the crazy challenge he dared renjun to do earlier. the partial reason, however..

“are you ever going to confess to (y/n)?” haechan raises a brow.

“keep it down! christ, hyuck. just because some members here have their partners on their arms doesn’t mean i should rush to make (y/n) mine.”

“oh, but you’re so obvious that it’s tiring to watch,” haechan sighs, taking a swig of his drink. the both of them admire the theme of the party for a little bit, red and green decorations hung from the spacious dorm, held on the fifth floor because they were the ‘cleanest’ (against jungwoo’s wishes and with kun’s agreement, they settled for an early celebration on the 23rd).

the speakers blasted christmas music, no doubt from the talented mr. bublé who was a compulsory artist to listen to, along with other renditions of christmas songs that just felt good. fairy lights from the members’ rooms were brought to be set up. plus, with ten’s recent sunset light purchase that he bought for the felines, the room was soon bathed in joyous lighting that could rival decorations outside.

“dude. the members had to have their partners fly in because they’re both so busy. (y/n)’s already there, c’mon the opportunity is right there — and this is the one time you’re able to unwind and relax. just go for it, man,” haechan is relaxed and laid-back, haven’t yet experienced the palpitations whenever one looks at their crush. the only exception was probably a rookie idol back then, but that was old news.

“if you happen to want to cuddle or fuck later, we’ll leave you alone.” this time, renjun was able to land a punch to his shoulder, expression turned into a scowl.

“you’re right, i guess. i’ll see what i can do.”

a gasp, “renjun admitting i’m right? rare.” renjun gives the other a lighter smack with a smile, chugging down the last bit of his water before heading over to you. he feels like he’s walking through snow whenever he wants to get to you, the resistance strong with each step. curling and uncurling his fingers, he loosened his freezing hands as you wrap up the conversation with mark.

“renjun! have a good rest? donghyuck was trying to avoid you for the past fifteen minutes, because he knew you’d get another headache if he talked to you.”

“i’m having one right now,” renjun jokes, emphasising his point by rubbing some fingers on his temple.

your laugh is like first snow. or like the heater that’s currently fuelling the house with heat. he isn’t sure what to choose, but he knows he likes it and wants to make you laugh more.

“do you need to rest again? i’ll promise i’ll be quiet-“

“delivery?” someone calls out. with a shout, you’re already at the door, receiving another batch of booze since the grocery shopping you went on earlier severely underestimated how much these boys can drink. “oh- uh-“ renjun swoops in like prince charming, hand brushing over yours while he steps forward to help you. they tingle like electricity, deciding against pulling away which would leave you to struggle.

“miss (l/n) (y/n) and mr huang renjun. please freeze in your place,” haechan’s annoying voice penetrates throughout all the conversation happening and you swear the man beside you mutters a curse as you two try to haul the booze past the member. “place the beer down. you aren’t going anywhere, anyway.”

before any of you can ask for an explanation, he points above you which displayed a mistletoe. “surprise!”

the delivery man’s voice scares you, until you realise it’s johnny, hidden under a very smart disguise of a fake moustache and a replica of the uniform. your mouth hangs open even when johnny squeezes past you with the booze effortlessly hanging from one arm, sighing inaudibly at the absence of the heavy drinks.

“so?” the members are looking at you expectedly like they’re watching a movie. there’s endless thoughts swirling in your mind even when renjun grabs your hand with his timid one, but it calms you down just a little when he brushes a thumb over your skin. it’s like you’re waiting for the director to yell out ‘cut!’; even you thought you’d do better on a movie set.

“(y/n)-“

he’s cut off by your lips crashing onto his, garnering a few ooohs and ahhs, including the satisfied smiles and sighs of relief. renjun’s lips taste like a mixture of the candy cane drink he spat out earlier, and some whiskey with coke. it’s a confusing taste, but with the pace your lips are moving with each other, it allows you to draw out every other time you imagined kissing huang renjun.

it doesn’t even come close, if you’re being honest and even if you’re standing in front of countless other men he calls his members in a ridiculously sized k-pop group. renjun deepens the kiss when he turns his head, cold, but clammy hands coming up the cup your cheeks. they shock you for just a bit and there’s a shameless smile into the kiss as renjun continues to deliver pecks onto your own.

he chuckle and it sounds like well-written christmas movies, or the very first listen to michael bublé’s christmas album. you aren’t sure what to choose, but you know you like it and want to make him chuckle more.

in a blink of an eye, you’ve grabbed his hand, heading straight for one of the rooms that you often see when renjun’s gaming with haechan. you recognise it straight away from the set-up and in a rush to shut the door, you stumble just a bit before meeting the hard wood of the door in a roar of laughter.

“great, now they’ve locked two people out,” haechan nudges johnny.

“three!” johnny’s partner calls from the doorway, which makes the living room shake in another round of cheers, getting back into the natural flow of things before everything got interrupted by a plant. faintly, you hear them ask if the plan worked, and haechan’s prideful answer right after.

slowly, you peek out of your hiding spot being your hands. renjun’s eyes shine, “so you like me.” it comes out flatter than he expected and he winces.

you snort, taking a step closer to him on the door, half leaning on it. without any prompting, the other’s arms encircle your waist, now pulling you flush against him while your head rest on his front. the next moments are spent in comfortable silence, the rowdy party going on outside giving you a little of a main character moment. your breathing syncs up, chest expanding and contracting with the deep breaths you take. there’s always a puff of mist leaving your lips, but it appears less now that you’re in your crush’s arms.

“yeah. i like you,” you nod, coming to face him after the tight embrace. his fingers touch your cheek experimentally and you flinch, the pads freezing cold to the touch. maybe it’s because he didn’t touch whiskey for the past half ’n hour. gently, you take his hands in yours. “why’re you always freezing?”

“ugh. you figured me out. tactic to get you to hold my hands.” throwing your head back in a silent laugh, you shake your head in disbelief.

“at least you haven’t caught on to me, holding your hands down so you won’t have to-” a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “restrict me from-” another to the other. “doing this.” lastly to his lips.

renjun entertains your dramatic flair with his jaw hung open. it doesn’t last long, though. “why would i restrict you from doing that?” you shrug, letting go of his hands now that they gained sufficient warmth. renjun silently decides it’s not enough, but first, he wants to kiss you again. his fingers are less freakishly cold now, brushing against your skin to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. it sits there obediently, dissimilar with the way you did it. ‘it always falls out!’ you want to tell him later, but first, you want to kiss him again.

“huang renjun, you drive me crazy.” grinning, renjun knows it’s your way of confessing before his lips collide with yours with the fervour that hallmark movies lacked, and ironically, a plot which hallmark movies embodied. and just like that, you wish you could hold a pause icon over your head, because you wanted this to last for as long as it could.

[talkfastromance4]

something--calum hood oneshot

erm, hi! I wrote this in one go last night, I couldn’t get it out of my head and I wanted to share it with you all. I hope you like it🥺

(also shortened my taglist because of inactivity of previous tags)

word count: 2.4k+

warnings: casual drinking, smoking of weed, sexual situations and angst.

****

Calum stares at the blades of the fan turning lazily above him, birds are chirping outside, and he brings his joint to his lips. He takes a sharp inhale keeping his eyes steady on the moving blades, a familiar tune rolling through his head from The Beatles. He’s been awake for a few hours, the sharp ache in his head has turned into a dull throb.

His mouth is dry as sandpaper and he should probably chug a gallon of water and eat something.

There’s movement to his left and he glances over as he exhales the smoke. Through the haze he sees her face but when it clears he realizes it isn’t her. It’s another in the place where she should be. The woman next to him sighs in her sleep, his shirt she’s wearing rises and falls with her breath.

Calum sighs and rolls out of bed. He sticks the joint in an ashtray (a gift from her) and pulls on a hoodie. His feet pad on the wooden floor as he sees the cluster of remnants from the night before. He and Roy held a little soiree that turned into a bigger party than they anticipated. He should clean it up but he might just hire a cleaning crew, he knows he’d be the only one doing the cleaning anyway.

There were cups everywhere, empty bottles turned over on the stairs. Some of his closest friends were still asleep on the couches in the living room. He hears Duke’s collar jangle outside, and Calum is transported to the night before in the exact spot where Duke is sniffing by the pool. Calum stood there as well.

He’s chatting with Ryan and Andy when people around them chorus her name. He looks up just as she steps onto the patio, her hand holding onto another man’s. They aren’t in a relationship, her and the guy, just like he’s never in relationships with the women he sees. Relationships have done them both dirty in the past, but he always feels a certain pull to her. Something he can’t shake.

Her eyes meet his over the shoulder of Crystal, something flickers in those pretty eyes and then it’s gone. Calum watches her for a moment longer, the way she smiles and how her laugh meets his ears. Throughout the party they were so close to each other yet so far apart.

People were in between them, but Calum was very aware of her presence, he could sense her. She could sense him, too.

It wasn’t until he was heading upstairs to use the bathroom did he see her escape into his room. Creasing his eyebrows together he follows her. The sounds of the party diminish greatly the further he gets away from it. The closer he gets to her his breath hitches, his heart accelerates.

When he turns the corner his bathroom door opens and she’s there. And he’s there. Both of them standing a mere six feet apart but he can see the beauty mark at the corner of her right eye. A mark he’s always wanted to kiss.

“Cal,” she says in surprise and he loves how his name sounds from her lips. “Sorry, the line to the main bathroom was too long and I know you said I could use it so I—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s…it’s great,” she nods. “Are you liking it?”

“It got better when I saw you walk in,” he confesses. The small amount of alcohol he’s consumed is making him feel bold. He takes a step forward. “Who’s the guy you brought?”

“Max. He works with me.”

“Mixing business with pleasure, yeah?” Calum takes another step forward, but she remains in the doorway of his bathroom.

“Hardly,” she scoffs then narrows her eyes at him. “You’re being very…forward tonight.”

“Can’t help it,” he takes another step and shakes his head. “You make me feel very…unwound.”

“I’m sorry?”

Calum chuckles and takes two more steps forward. He’s so close to her now he can smell her perfume. It makes his head dizzy.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

She searches around his room as if she’d find the answer to his question painted on his walls then sighs. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Do you know what you do to me?”

That caught him off guard. He does something to her?

“I didn’t—”

“Really, Calum? Are you that daft? You drive me crazy. Crazy in a way where I need to…need to do something about it later. The way you look at me isn’t how friends look at each other.”

“How do I look at you?”

“The way I look at you I’d imagine,” she sighs.

“Wait…what do you mean you need to do something?” he takes another step. He’s so close now he can see the slight shimmer in her lip gloss.

“Really, Calum?” she nearly whines and hides her face before rubbing her temples. Her eyes meet his. “You really want me to tell you how I go home and think about you in my bed? How I…how I touch myself wishing it were you?”

He’s stunned and his mind is racing a mile a minute. She thinks about him, too? He’s tried to stop his own fantasies forming as he lays in bed thinking of her. Thinking of the sounds she’d make and where her sweet spots are. Calum cups her cheek in his hand tilting her face upward. He cocks his head until her eyes are looking into his.

“Now who’s being forward?”

She lets out a grunt of frustration. “Seriously?! I’m sorry for using your bathroom, I’ll head back downstairs—why are you laughing?”

“It was a joke, sweetheart,” he coos moving even closer to her. He’s so close now he can see the color of her eyeshadow, the glittering shine on her cheeks from her highlighter. “I think about you, too.”

She swallows harshly. “You do?”

He brings his other hand to her other cheek; his hold forces her lips to purse together tempting him even more. Lips he’s always wanted to taste. Lips he’s wanted to nibble on. He takes a leap, flying on this boldness in his bloodstream and leans forward to kiss her.

Her lips are soft and taste of strawberries. He hums tracing her lower lip with his tongue and she opens up to him willingly. Their tongues meet and she gasps softly. He continues to kiss her a bit longer then pulls away, nudging his nose against hers.

“I think about you in a way that would make you blush, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroke the apples of her cheeks.

“Like how?” her voice shakes but her hands are steady as she grabs onto his belt buckle and pulls him forward. Her fingers dip below the waistband of his jeans and he groans at the near contact to a part of him that twitches at her touch.

“You really want to know?” he pecks her lips softly.

“Now you’re suddenly shy?” she teases, and he laughs before kissing her again.

He pauses and pulls back to look at her, laughs again and kisses her once more before pushing her into the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, dropping his hands from her face so he can lift her onto the counter. She pulls him towards her by his belt again, her legs opening to accommodate him between her thighs. Thighs that are more on display because her dress has hiked up.

Calum leans on the countertop, his hands bracing onto the edge as he stares at her.

“You want to know all the dirty thoughts I have of you?” he kisses her twice.

“Mhm…” she hums running her finger on his skin above his belt. He shivers at the touch, silently begging her to move her finger lower. “Talk dirty to me.”

“I think of how I want to make you scream my name because my tongue and lips won’t let up on your pussy,” he starts and it’s her turn to shiver at his words. Calum smirks and presses himself against her. “How I want your thighs wrapped around my head, your fingers in my hair as I take you over the edge again and again. You’re dripping on my mouth and after your eighth orgasm I’ll slide my aching, throbbing, swollen cock inside you.”

She whimpers and Calum can’t help but kiss her again. She arches her body against his, her soft parts touching the hard parts of him and his head spins.

“What do you think of?” he presses against her, lips tumbling over hers.

“You’re pinning my wrists above my head as you fuck me. Your lips all over me while your fingers take me over the edge,” she grinds herself against him and whines. “Please, Cal.”

She removes her hand from his stomach and grabs his wrist, she drags it onto her thigh. His fingers splay on her soft thigh rubbing soft circles on her flesh. Each arch widens and his finger gets closer to her heat, a heat he can already feel.

“You want me to touch you?” he asks knocking his forehead against hers. She nods. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Touch me, Cal, please,” she says breathlessly.

He twists his wrist moving his hand under her dress and touches her. His fingers rub against a wet patch and she moans as he drags his nail up her clothed slit. On her second moan he slips his tongue inside her mouth, his finger presses harder. They’re making out when he pushes aside the fabric and feels her arousal coat his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he groans stroking her up and down. Her body jerks at the tease and his words. He moves his lips to her jaw as he inserts a finger slowly. She’s warm and slick and his cock twitches when he thinks of being inside her completely.

She hums when he starts pumping in and out of her slowly. Her body reacts to his motions, her breath shortening in his ear as he sucks on her neck. Soon, he picks up the pace and she starts to rock with his movements.

“Ride my fingers, baby,” he encourages, and she moves faster when he slips in another finger. “Just like that…”

He feels her clench around him, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her lips connecting to his neck. He thrusts in her faster, his arm straining but she’s so close and he’d be damned if he didn’t finish her off. His bicep is tightening when she is, her breath hot on his skin then she bites down hard but Calum loves it.

He continues to pump in and out of her as she comes around him. It’s so much sweeter than his fantasy. When her body relaxes, Calum drags her face from his neck so he can kiss her, his fingers still moving lazily in and out of her. She whimpers when he pulls them out completely.

He brings his hand between them, keeping his eyes on hers he takes them in his mouth to suck her juices off him. She wraps her hand around his and pulls one of his fingers into her own mouth. Their eyes are locked as they both suck her orgasm off his fingers. The whole ordeal is so hot he can’t stand it, so he removes his fingers from their mouths and gives her a sloppy kiss.

Calum rubs at his neck; his tension and anger have taken root there because he wishes he was back in his bathroom with her in front of him. With her legs wrapped around him and her moans in his ear. Something broke their bubble of ecstasy and he had to take care of some problem downstairs that Mitchy drunkenly shouted through the door.

But he promised her they’d continue this after the party.

The universe decided to place him on the unlucky side of the coin though. When he returned to the party downstairs people were freaking out because a couple of people hopped the gate and were somewhere on his property. The cops were already called, and he had to make sure whoever they were didn’t wander somewhere they really shouldn’t be. Like upstairs where she was.

For the rest of the evening, he had to speak with the cops on his front step, his irritation at the party crashers intensifying because they took him away from her. When the cops finally left with the trespassers in the back of their car, Calum headed inside on a mission to find her.

He was stopped for shots and a pass of a joint and a pipe. His head started to swim even deeper but at the forefront was still her. He finally found her by the fireplace, that Max guy talking to her with wild arm motions. Calum made a very lopsided beeline towards her then was stopped by Missy.

Missy decided to stop him by shoving her tongue down his throat and alarms went off in his head. She didn’t taste like strawberries. Her perfume was too strong it burned his nose. When he finally managed to push her away from him, Y/N’s eyes were full of hurt and shame as she watched the whole thing.

“No, Y/N—”

She pulled Max to her, lips locked on his and Calum felt like he got hit by a truck.

What happened next was a blur. Faces and voices and bodies morphed together. Calum’s head hurt. Missy felt sick so he took her upstairs where she retched in the toilet then passed out on his tile. Calum offered her his clothes to sleep in and she curled up in his bed.

He went downstairs to find Y/N, to explain that Missy was just drunk, and it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean what happened between them in his bathroom, it didn’t come close. But he discovered she left with Max and his heart fell into his stomach.

And now here he is, surveying the aftermath of what could have been the best night of his life with her. But something always got in the way and this time, she saw it with her own eyes.

The melody from upstairs is back in his head and he finds the words that suddenly make sense in this stupid situation of bad timing.

“Something in the way she moves…. something in the way she woos me,” he sings quietly in the silent house. He’s missing a few words, but these are what’s floating in his head. “Something in the way she knows…and all I have to do is think of her—”

“Calum?”

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash  @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh  @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth  @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt  @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @sanrioluke @mayve-hems  @haikucal @thatscooibaby  @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor  @dead-and-golden @mymindwide  @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @superbloomed-c @littledrummeraussie

[writemywaytoyourheart]

BTS Reaction: You Have An Ovarian Cyst

Requested: yes a long time ago ;-;

Genre: fluff

Warnings: uh, mentions of ovarian cysts but it's not that bad lol

A/n: I know it's taken me a long time to get something out and I'm sorry about that. But I hope you enjoy this anyway 🙂 love you guys!

KIM SEOKJIN:

I love this man...that is all

"What do you want for dinner tonight, princess?"

Jin looks at you from across the shopping cart between you two as you browse the vegetable aisle. He frowns when you don't seem to be paying attention to him, just keep gently pushing on the avocados to test their ripeness.

"Y/n?"

"Huh?" You finally look up at him and he smiles.

"I asked what you'd like for dinner tonight." 

MIN YOONGI:

"Oh, sorry." You laugh quietly, but Jin immediately picks up that something is wrong. He comes around the cart to put his hands on your shoulders, making you face him.

"Is everything alright, princess?"

"Yeah...it's just..." You look around to make sure no one overhears you.

"It just hurts." You finally whisper.

"What hurts?" Your husband whispers back.

You point down at your lower abdomen and it clicks in his brain. You had been having a lot of ovary pain recently, so you went to the doctors to get it checked out.

It turns out you have an ovarian cyst, but it wouldn't require any surgeries. The doctor just told you a few things that might help ease the pain until it goes away.

Jin has been a saint this whole time, doing everything he can to make it better for you. Now, he nods and pulls you in for a quick kiss on your forehead. Then he whispers, "I've got an idea."

At Seokjin's urging, you end up buying chocolates and almonds and a few other foods that are high in magnesium. The doctor told him that magnesium high foods should help the pain. When you get home, he makes you sit on the couch while he gives you some chocolate and almonds as he puts the groceries away.

When he's done, he comes over and sits next to you, pulling you in and kissing your cheek. "You just snack on those, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Jinnie."

"Love you, princess."

d@mn...the duality is gonna give me whiplash

"Ouuuch, Yoongi!" 

At your call of distress, your fiance runs into the living room from where he was producing in his studio. He sees you all curled up on the couch, your face twisted in pain as you clutch your abdomen. 

"Yoongi it hurts." You whine. 

"Oh, baby." Yoongi comes around the side of the couch and sits on the floor where he can be face to face with you. He gently takes one of your hands away from your stomach and holds it close to his chest.

"Have you taken your supplements today, love?" 

"No." You say weakly. 

"Ok, I'll be right back." He lets go of your hand to go and grab the supplements your doctor told you to take every day. 

You gladly move and smile softly when he cuddles into you, nuzzling his nose in your hair. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this, baby."

He comes back with them and a glass of water, and then helps you take it.

After you've chugged some of the water and taken the supplement, Yoongi has you scoot over so that he can lay on the couch with you. 

"It's not so bad when I get to cuddle you like this." You whisper tiredly. 

He smiles and kisses you gently, "Try to get some sleep, love."

JUNG HOSEOK:

heeheheheee i luv he

KIM NAMJOON:

"Is it still hurting, babe?"

You can hear the worry in his voice clearly. You clear your throat and whisper into the phone, since you're in the middle of your workplace.

"Yeah, but it's probably nothing." You hear him sigh at that.

"Y/n-"

"Sorry, Hobi. I have to go, my boss is coming."

You hang up and quickly get back to work before your boss catches you slacking off. The rest of your work day goes by rather painfully, with your worried boyfriend constantly texting you to make sure you're still alive.

By the time you're home, your lower abdomen is in so much pain its taking all you have not to burst out crying. You unlock your front door and walk in to plop yourself on the couch in a heap of misery.

Then a series of quick knocks sounds on your door. You barely have enough time to lift your head before you hear it unlock and your boyfriend comes in, his brows creased in worry.

"Babe, I've been worried sick about you all day!" He cries as he hurries over to you. "That's it, I'm taking you to the doctor."

Not even half an hour later, you're at the doctors and explaining everything that's been happening. They do an ultrasound and it turns out that you have an ovarian cyst on your left ovary.

No wonder.

Hobi is diligent on taking notes about how to help you, he listens to the doctor intently, madly scribbling everything that's important.

When you're back at your place, Hobi gives you some painkillers and cuddles you in bed.

"Are you doing okay, Jagi?" He asks every few minutes. You can't help but laugh at how worried he is.

"I'll be okay, Hobi. Thank you for everything."

"You can always count on me, Y/n."

so smol and soft ;-;

PARK JIMIN:

"Are you okay, y/n?"

You turn to your husband at his question. He's holding your hand gently as you two walk through the park with ice cream in hand.

You hadn't realized that you were zoning out. The truth is you aren't okay, you're miserable. You found out last week that the pain you've been having is an ovarian cyst. Namjoon has been a sweetheart and taken care of you as best he can. He's always trying different ways to help you cope with the pain.

"It just hurts a bit." You admit after a moment of silence.

Namjoon nods understandingly, "Do you want to head home?"

You nod and he kisses your forehead gently before tossing his empty ice cream cup in a nearby trashcan.

It only takes a few minutes for you to get home. Once you're there, you pull off your shoes and groan as you hold your abdomen and stumble to your bedroom.

"I'll be in there in a minute, sweetie." Namjoon calls after you.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens and you peek your eyes open to see Namjoon slipping inside. He's carefully carrying a little tea cup, walking slowly and sitting next to you as softly as he can. Then he hands you the tea cup when you sit up.

"What's this?" You ask sleepily.

"Ginger tea. It'll help with the pain. I did some research." He laughs shyly at the smile on your face.

You take a sip of the hot tea and hum in satisfaction, "It's amazing. Thank you, baby."

"Anything for you, babe."  

KIM TAEHYUNG:

hot dog hot dog hot diggity dog

"Ok, jagiya. This isn't normal."

Jimin is practically in tears himself watching you cry over your period pain. He knows cramps are painful, but this seems like it's so much worse than usual and he's really worried. But you insist that it's normal for periods to hurt as you lie on his bed in tears.

"But not like this!" He cries, wringing his hands. "You've been unable to move for hours I think we need to call the doctor."

"Jimin, I'm sure it's nothing." You sniffle tearfully and wipe your nose with your shirt sleeve.

He sighs and lies next to you, cuddling into your side in hopes of putting you to sleep. But a few hours later, he's awaken by the sound of your crying. He sits up and gently pulls you to sit up too.

"We're going to the doctors, right now."

~

The doctor told you that you have cysts on your ovaries and that's what's been causing your horrible pain. He gives you a few tips to help and Jimin listens intently.

Jimin drives you back to your apartment and helps you to the couch, then he grabs a fluffy blanket and drapes it over you. After that, he runs to get some pain medicine and comes back to give it to you with some water.

"Thanks Jimin." You croak tiredly. He smiles at you and brushes your hair out of your face, "I'll always be here, Jagi. The medicine shouls kick in soon." Then he leans down and kisses your forehead.

"Get some sleep."

oh pllssss give me a hug. you so cute.

JEON JUNGKOOK:

You smile half-heartedly at a text message from your boyfriend. You checked your phone immediately after you got out of your doctor's appointment. And of course, Tae had already messaged asking if everything was alright and if the doctor had given you any diagnosis.

He was going insane watching you in so much pain every day for the past few weeks. He kept insisting you go to the doctor and you finally did it today. It's a good thing you did, because apparently your pain isn't all in your head like you thought it might be.

Your doctor let you know after some ultra sounds that you have an ovarian cyst on your right ovary. He gave you a few things to do and some supplements to take to help ease the pain, but that's really all he could do until it went away on it's own.

You send Tae a quick text, telling him that you just got out, you're okay, and you will tell him about it at home.

When you get to your apartment, Tae opens the door before you even get a chance to fish your keys out of your purse. You laugh at his wide eyes, "Hey Tae, when did you get here baby?" You ask as you make your way inside and take your shoes off.

"Oh, I came over right after I got out of practice. I've been waiting for you, are you okay?" He asks worriedly, taking your hand as you walk over to your couch and plop down.

"Ohh, I'm fine. It's an ovarian cyst."

The look of horror on his face makes you laugh again. He isn't laughing as he kisses your cheek, "I'm sorry baby, is there anything I can do to help?"

You think for a minute before nodding, "Can you actually grab me the heating pad? It's in my closet."

"Of course!" He jumps to his feet and hurries to grab it. When he gets back, he cuddles into your side and gently puts the heating pad to your abdomen.

"Thanks, Taetae."

"I love you."

oofie it hurts i luv he smile

"Oh baby, is it bad right now?"

Jungkook hurries over to the side of your shared bed the moment he sees you curled on your side, your eyes squeezed shut. You nod, feeling your husband tuck your hair behind your ear and put his hand to your forehead. "What can I do to help you, honey?" He asks desperately.

"I don't know." You whisper hopelessly.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek in frustration. He doesn't understand why the doctors can't just fix everything and help you to stop hurting so much. He knows it will go away eventually, but he can't stand seeing you in so much pain right now.

He sits next to you and continues to brush his fingers through your hair, hoping it'll at least distract you. While he brushes your hair, he calls his eldest hyung. Seokjin always knows what to do.

"Jin hyung, what do I do?"

~

A few minutes later, you feel Jungkook shift and get up from the bed. Then he goes into the bathroom and you hear the tub start running. A little bit after that, your husband comes back in and kisses your cheek, "Come on, baby." Jungkook whispers as he practically carries you to the bathroom, where he helps you undress and step into the warm bath. You sink down, grateful when you realize he sits outside the tub and keeps holding your hand.

"I put some epsom salts in, it should start helping soon." Jungkook whispers softly.

"Thank you, Kook. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie. Now, just relax." He reassures you, kissing your lips gently.

[satendou]

⟼  dirty, filth, grimy

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  pairing: bokuto kotaro/reader

⇢ au: aged up!au, pro!bokuto

⇢ summary: bokuto isn’t slick, and isn’t a shower supposed to help you get clean?

⇥  masterlist

⇥  requests are open! | rules

⇢  warnings: established relationship, smut, fingering, locker room sex, shower sexy, unprotected sex

⇢  word count: 2.3k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  a/n: i was on a roll with public sex when i wrote this ionno. also i’m sorry i always have to go back and edit to say thank you to @keijiskitten​ for beta reading for me idk why i always forget ugh but ily and appreshiate u sm

The squeal of wheels and thudding of balls against the floor slowly petered out as the team got ready to go home. The only one who was not quite ready to leave yet was Bokuto, who had continued practicing his spikes for a while after the rest had showered up and started cleaning. So you were stuck waiting around for him to get finished, helping him clean up and then settling in to wait for him to shower.

He gave your forehead a quick peck on his way by, and you watched him shed his shirt as he walked towards the locker room, the fabric sticking to his back with sweat as he slid it up and over his head. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, he stopped and turned back to you wearing the most mischievous smirk you had ever seen. 

Which was saying something, when it came to Bokuto.

“Say, you haven’t showered yet, have you?” he said, taking slow steps back in your direction. “I saw you helping the others earlier. That’s pretty gross, _____.”

You blinked at him in confusion. Way earlier, you had filled in for someone for a few minutes, tossing balls to the setter while he went to get a drink-- not even long enough to break a sweat. With the way Bokuto watched you like a hawk, mostly to make sure you were paying attention to him showing off for you, he had to know that.

“What’re you up to, Ko?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

You knew that look. He was plotting something.

His hands came out, held up in defense, still wearing a mischievous smirk. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, _____. You need to shower, I need to shower. I just thought we could conserve water is all. Ecological consciousness and all that.”

You snorted and stood up, pulling your bag off your shoulder and setting it on the chair, followed by your jacket “You’ve been spending too much time with Kuroo. Ecological consciousness, is that the best you can come up with?”

As you fell into step beside him, he took your hand and dragged you towards the door. “Don’t be mean, _____. And besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes and nodded. It wasn’t like you knew how to say no to him anyway, and he’d have just pestered you if you had. But try telling him that.

The door opened silently, the lights flicking on automatically when they detected movement. The silence inside was almost eerie. You were rarely in there in general, let alone without the team, so you had never noticed before. Your footsteps echoed as Bokuto led the way to the showers, the handle squeaking quietly as he turned it, setting it to the temperature that he liked. 

His shorts hit the floor and then his hands found your shirt, tugging it up and off of you. The rough pads of his fingers skimmed up your back to your bra clasp, and then it was gone too. Palming your breast in one of his warm hands, he smirked at you. “You’re so pretty, _____.”

You trembled when he pinched your nipple between his forefinger and thumb and pulled, letting it go and watching it jiggle and bounce. Your pants hit the floor next and you stood naked before him. Even after years together, you flushed under his intense, hungry gaze, like you had every time since the first. The way he watched you was both flattering and unnerving, like he wanted to eat you up-- or out, which you didn’t doubt either. 

The thought made you blush harder, knowing firsthand how good he was at that.

“Watcha thinkin’ about, princess?” he asked, guiding you by the hips as he walked backwards into the warm water. He groaned as it beat his sore muscles, pulling you right to his chest under the spray. 

“Um, you,” you whispered, tapping on his chest with your fingertips. Absentmindedly, you slid your hand up and over his broad shoulder, cupping his neck, watching the water collect against your fingers and spill over. It always amazed you how warm Bokuto was; he just radiated heat like the sun. With his arms wrapped around you, your body pressed to his firm one, you felt safe and comfortable, protected. 

And more than a little turned on.

“Me?” he asked, and sounded genuinely startled. He looked down at you with wide eyes, searching your face for...something, and you laughed.

“Of course you, you dork,” you said, tugging on his bangs. The water had washed the gel keeping his spiky locks upright and it now fell down naturally into his face. “Who else would I mean? You’re so dumb, Ko.”

In response, he pushed his bangs up and off his forehead, slicking it back. “You’re so mean to me, _____.”

“You bring it on yourself, you know. ‘Me?’ Honestly,” you said. You squeezed the back of his neck, pushing against it and he willingly came down, pressing his lips to yours before he could respond. Your tongue slipped past his lips, probing against his and tasting the remnants of the fruity energy drink he had chugged not long ago. He groaned, his hands sliding down and squeezing your ass. You could feel his erection pressing between your legs, but you weren’t quite ready to give in yet.

Pulling away, you smiled, and he recognized the teasing intent behind it. When you pulled out of his arms, he whined and made to drag you back, but the water made it dangerous to play around so he let you slide free, watching you pick up his body wash and loofah.

As slowly as you could manage, you started to scrub his chest in slow circles and watched his head tip back. Your free hand rested on his abs, thumb mimicking the movements of your occupied hand, collecting up the suds that slid down.

He groaned as your hands ghosted over his hip and laughed at the tight squeeze you gave his ass and squeezed yours, causing you to giggle.

“If we get caught we’re so dead, you know that right? Coach’ll give you so much receiving practice your arms will fall off,” you warned as the loofah slid from your hand, hitting the floor with a wet slap. It fell on deaf ears as Bokuto swept you up in a heated kiss, tongue probing between your lips for a taste.

“Worth it,” he grunted, guiding you carefully backwards until your back met the wall. With one arm propped over your head, he used his knee to guide your legs apart. Wet fingers probed your slick lips, splitting them open to graze your entrance. “So ready for me already, babygirl.”

You sighed as he eased his way in, thumb flicking your clit. You raked your fingers through his hair, tugging on the knots created by the water, rocking your hips into his fingers. “Always for you, Ko. You feel so good.”

His cock twitched at your easy praise, moaning low in your throat as he slid a second one into your tight heat. Your soft hand wrapped around his bobbing cock, using the water as a makeshift lube to pump, thumb smearing precum down his length. His hips jerked in time with your hand, fingers syncing up as they thrust in and out of you, little moans reaching his ears until his lips covered yours again.

His fingers curled inside of you, the tips massaging just right and your lips parted, thighs squeezing down on his hand.

“Ko, Ko, shit,” you stuttered against his lips, fingers locking in his hair.

He pulled back, eyes glazed and nodded, pulling his fingers from your opened cunt with a slick noise. Guiding you to turn around, you leaned over and slid your hands up the back of your thighs. You squeezed, fingers parting your folds for him and he licked his lips at the sight of your glossy pussy spread wide.

“Baby, that’s so sexy,” he groaned, fingertips gliding down through your folds and clit, on display and dripping for him. “Didn’t know you had such a dirty side.”

“Well, I’m about to let you fuck me in the team locker room, I think I can afford to have a little fun,” you responded, voice raspy as he dipped his finger inside you one last time.

He fisted his cock in his hand, guiding the tip to your creamy entrance, and groaned when you clenched around him. His jaw slacked open, tongue wetting his lips as he continued to press into you, hands helping to spread your ass further apart so he could watch himself disappear. 

Halfway in, he pulled back out and the sight of your slick covering his length caused him to groan and slam back into you, eliciting a squeal from your parted lips.

“Ko, fuck, that feels so good, oh my god, so big,” you babbled, words just pouring out of your mouth. You couldn’t help it as he battered your cervix, flared tip dragging along every nerve ending inside your stretched pussy. Only his hands on your hips kept you from slamming into the wall with every thrust, pulling you backwards to meet his hips and filling the small stall with wet slaps.

His head was angled down, eyes glued to the slide of his slick cock in and out of your pussy, and he groaned deep in his chest when you squeezed down on him. He couldn’t help the jerk of his hips, his pace stuttering as a strong lance of pleasure shot through him.

“Baby, what are you doing to me?” he asked when you giggled, probably at his response. He sounded blissed out, starting a slow, shallow rocking motion inside you. 

You could feel every vein and fold of his shaft drag along your spongy walls, grinding against your g-spot and cervix and clit, and your toes curled from the overwhelming pleasure. When you squeezed around him this time, it was out of your control, a moan loosing from your lips and your nails curling into your palms. Your cheek met the wet tile wall, mouth slack as he started to fuck you again, hips slamming into yours faster than before.

You prattled his name like a mantra, mixing praises and moans in against your will as the coil built tighter.

“So good, Ko. You fuck me so well, every time. Gonna cum, baby, please make me cum,” you moaned, craning your neck back to look at him. His piercing yellow eyes met yours, mouth twisted somewhere between pleasure and a smirk and it sent shivers down your spine, mixing with the pleasure in your gut and you whimpered his name.

His fingers curled in your now-damp hair and pulled you up, twisting your head so that he could kiss you. It was sloppy, tongue delving between your lips and lapping at yours, and when he pulled away a string of drool came with him. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Wanna feel you cream all over my cock.”

A high whine left you, his sharp eyes hypnotizing you as he pounded your tight hole, his words sending heat lancing through you and the coil snapped. Your back arched, body going rigid in his arms as your fingers scrabbled for purchase on the tiled walls. His movements slowed, riding you through it with small rolls of his hips as your moans bounced off the walls and drowned out the sound of the water still falling over you.

When you finally went limp, leaning against his chest, he nipped at your ear before whispering, “I’m so close, baby, stay with me. Let me cum in this pretty pussy, ‘kay?”

You nodded, lips parting as he started moving again, just as hard and fast and before and a scream bubbled in your throat. It was both too much and too good, the pleasure almost painful but there was a deep need to feel him bury his cock deep in you, hear him moan your name as he filled you to the brim.

It didn’t take long, listening to the small whines and moans that left your lips, nails digging into his wrist as your overstimulated pussy spasmed around him.

“C-Cumming,” he moaned, his broad frame curling around yours, hips jerking as he used your pussy to milk himself dry. His breath came in pants, hot puffs of air against your sweat slicked skin, and then he was pulling out of you, admiring the fucked out look on your face when he turned you around.

Your arms curled around his neck, letting him hold you up as your eyes fluttered. “You’re gonna have to help me stand, Ko. I can’t feel my legs.”

He laughed, the sound too loud in the aftermath of that. It was so intense you had forgotten you were literally in a public place, anyone able to walk in on you at any moment. “A job well done then, huh?”

“As always,” you murmured, nuzzling against his neck. He kept one arm around you, holding you close as he turned the temperature of the water down a little. “Now let’s shower so we can get going. I’m starving.”

At the mention of food, he perked back up, his energy returning as if he hadn’t just fucked you into the wall. In record time, you were both scrubbed down and getting dressed, heading out into the gym to gather your things up.

“Can we just get something to take home? I’m pretty tired after all that exercise,” he said, rubbing the back of his head as he watched you pick your bag up.

You rolled your eyes, catching his mischievous yellow eyes roaming over your body before licking his lips. “Yeah, Kou. I’m sure that’s your reason for wanting to get home.”

He shrugged, tossing a beefy arm across your shoulders. “What can I say? I’m a man of taste. And I really, really wanna taste you.”

⇥  masterlist

⇥ taglist: @lyovochkaa​ @kunimwuah​

[theladyofdeath]

A Rainy Day in October {Elriel}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 7.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Based on a prompt sent in by anon: “ Hi ! For your Fall prompts, can i request an elriel where they are stuck at one’s appartement because of a very rainy autumn day ... and like, you know , maybe there is only one bed or something 😆 - anon “

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

The rain was pouring, soaking Azriel’s hoodie as he ran from his car to the landing of the apartment complex. He tried to shake off as much water as possible as he hurried up the stairs, wondering how much the items in the large paper bag he carried remained dry. 

He had called Elain that morning, after he’d gotten the call saying that work was cancelled for the day. They were expected to start paving a back road just outside of the city, but paving in the rain was a nonexistent talent.

Which meant he got to spend the day with his girlfriend. 

He’d stopped on his way and had picked up a bottle of premade mimosa, some chicken, bacon, and cheese croissants from the deli, and a giant bag of caramel corn.

Elain’s favorite.

He knocked on the door just after ten, and waited for her to answer.

When she did, he didn’t expect her to still be in her pajamas.

He chuckled and asked, “Not getting dressed today?”

“Nope,” she said, popping her lips on the P noise. “We’re having a lazy day.”

“A lazy day, huh?” He asked, walking in and setting the bags on the floor. He immediately tugged the hoodie off, only to find that his t-shirt beneath was soaked, too. “Could that lazy day include putting my clothes in the dryer?”

Elain shook her head as she laughed quietly. “Yes, and I’ll get the sweats and t-shirt I wore home the other morning.”

The reminder of what had taken place between them only a few nights before had Elain’s cheeks heating and Azriel smirked. “Okay.”

He headed towards her laundry room and tossed his clothes in the dryer. He was unbuttoning his jeans when Elain appeared with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

“I can’t believe you made it to your door in those,” he said, nodding to the bundle in her arms as he yanked off his jeans and tossed them into the dryer before pressing start. “They swallow you.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “they do, which is why I love them.”

“That’s the only reason you love them?” he asked, amused, as he pulled the sweatpants up over his briefs.

“That,” she said, slowly, “and because they smell like you.”

“Smell like me?” he repeated, pulling his shirt over his wet hair. “Hopefully I smell good.” 

“Delicious,” she promised, and then he was charging at her, lifting her up, and tossing her over his shoulder. She laughed, bracing her open palms on his lower back. 

He carried her back to the living room, where Elain had already lit candles and taken out every single blanket she had ever bought and put them on her couch. 

“Lazy day, huh?” Azriel asked, and he dropped Elain down on the couch. 

She bounced a few times on the cushions before coming to a still. Her grin was still wide when she said, “Yes. It’s cold, it’s raining, we both have the day off, and I’m ready to eat junk food, get drunk, and watch ridiculous Halloween movies.” 

Azriel shook his head, slowly. “I knew there was a reason why I loved you.”

That was new for them, saying  I love you, and every time Azriel did, it made him feel completely and utterly alive. 

Elain’s smile softened. “One of the many reasons, I hope.”

Azriel smirked. “It’s a long list, I promise.”

He padded back over to the door and got the paper bag before bringing it back to the couch.

Elain was elated by his choice in snacks and she popped the cork off of the mimosas, drinking it straight from the bottle. They were snuggled up on the couch watching the Nightmare Before Christmas when Azriel said, “So I have a question.”

“Shoot,” she said, popping a piece of caramel corn into her mouth.

He waited for a second then said, “How would you feel about...moving in together?”

Elain froze and Azriel quickly added, “I know it’s only been a few months.”

Elain didn’t say anything, just stared at the caramel corn that stayed a few inches from her mouth, frozen in midair. 

“Please say something,” he said, quietly.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, laughing, softly.

“No, I know, I just…” He started rubbing the back of his neck, a usual sign that Azriel was panicking inside. “We’ve been best friends for ten years, Lainy. I’m in love with you. I have always been in love with you, since the ninth grade. I just...we’re with each other every day, anyway, you know? And, you’ve been sleeping at my place, and I’ve been sleeping here, and doesn’t it just make sense?” 

“You want to move in with me...because it makes sense?” she asked, lifting a brow.

“No,” he said, quickly. “I want to move in with you because you’re the last thing I want to see before I go to sleep and the first thing I want to see when I wake up.”

Elain’s eyes softened as she leaned back into him. “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see?” he asked, chuckling. “See on what?” 

“We know a lot about each other, Az, but we’ve never lived together,” she said, simply, taking another chug from the mimosa bottle. “I have to know what you’re going to be like to live with before I live with you.”

He knew that little smile on her lips.

She was playing with him, teasing him.

“And is there something that might be a dealbreaker that I need to know about?”

Elain pretended to think long and hard about it, which resulted in Azriel poking her in the side. She giggled, pulling one of her many blankets up over her body, and halfway over Azriel. “Leaving the toilet seat up.”

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Leaving the toilet seat up?”

“Leaving the toilet seat up,” she confirmed, nodding. “What if I had to go in the middle of the night? I mean, I wouldn’t turn the light on, because turning the light on in the middle of the night is torture. And, if you left the seat up, I’d sit down, and fall into the toilet, then I’ll be tired and mad and, disgustingly enough, probably wet from toilet water. So. Yes. Leaving the toilet seat up is a dealbreaker.” 

“Hmmm,” Azriel began, his arms around her tightening. “Alright. I guess I could follow that rule. Anything else?”

Elain sighed, tapping her chin as she thought. “Flowers. I like to be brought flowers from time to time, even in the fall and the winter. I like to have them in a vase on the table, year round.” 

Azriel tried to control his spreading grin. “Alright, I can do that.”

“Are you remembering all of this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he promised. “Anything else?” 

She looked up at him. “You have to promise to always kiss me goodnight.” 

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Every night?”

“Every single one.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked, unable to stop that spreading grin. 

Elain shrugged, pressing her lips together, trying to look serious and so miserably failing. “I’m kicking you out.”

“Well then I guess I’ll have to make sure I remember to do that,” he paused, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Every.” Kiss. “Single.” Kiss. “Night.”

The kiss lasted longer this time. But when Elain pulled back, her brown eyes were sparkling. “If you can agree to those terms, I guess we can move in together.”

He smirked. “Who’s apartment will we live in?”

“Oh, this one,” she said, without any hesitation. “No doubt.”

Azriel snorted. “I was hoping you’d say that.” 

It was true that his studio apartment didn’t have much room, even though he did love the aesthetic of it. Elain’s was practical. She had her bedroom - their bedroom - and then her spare room, along with a nice, big bathroom and a kitchen that had a giant island in the middle of it.

Not to mention the massive living room and outside balcony. 

His studio apartment was about as big as Elain’s kitchen, alone. 

“How about a pet? Are we getting a pet, if I move in?” Azriel asked. 

“A pet?” Elain hummed. “Maybe a cat. I like cats. You like cats.” 

“I do like cats,” Azriel agreed. “I wouldn’t mind a little black kitten.”

“An all black cat?” Elain asked. “They say they’re bad luck, you know.”

“They’re spooky, I like spooky,” Azriel argued, lightly. 

“Spooky,” Elain mused, trailing her fingers up and down his jaw. “I guess I can do spooky, if it means I get my flowers.”

“I’ll always get you flowers. And I’ll cook you dinner when you’ve had a long day.” He caught her hand and pressed kisses to her fingertips. “We can go on those god awful early morning hikes you love so much.”

“I love early morning hikes,” she muttered.

“I know,” he said, kissing her, softly. “And I’ll gladly go with you.” Even though he loathed the mornings.

“What else?” She breathed. 

“I’ll rub your back after work,” he promised. “And, I’ll clean, and do the laundry. I’m very good at folding clothes.”

Elain laughed, breathily. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Azriel whispered. “I’ll also bring the mail in every day and make sure the toilet paper and shampoo are always stocked.”

Elain grinned, kissing him, yet again. “Gods, you’re the perfect roommate.”

“I know,” he agreed, making Elain laugh. “Is that a yes, then?”

Elain pulled back and took his face into her hands. “Of course it’s a yes.”

As the rain continued to beat on the windows, Azriel showed Elain many, many more ways he could be her perfect roommate.

[crownedaxo]

Sleep? Never Heard of Her

College is kicking Techno’s ass.

Wilbur huffs, annoyed that his headphones are suddenly missing. Tommy has been out with friends all day and Phil has been at work, so that only leaves one possible thief. Technoblade. Wilbur marches up to his brother's door and bangs once before barging in, “Techno my head… phones…” The middle child’s rage dissipates as his eyes find his older brother. Techno is on his bed surrounded by heavy textbooks and thinning notebooks. There are several pens and pencils scattered on the floor and bed around the usual stuffed animals and a few laminated flash cards fall off the bed. However Techno, instead of having his face in these studying materials, is instead asleep, holding his stuffed pig. His flower patterned pajama pants are rolled up to the knees and the band tshirt has also been pushed up. The heat of the summer has the blankets on the floor, and his long pink hair is tied up in a bun. The bags under his eyes could probably carry the textbooks that caused them. The headphones Wilbur has been looking for, sure enough, are around Techno’s neck, and Wilbur can hear pop punk playing deafeningly loud from them. The younger brother sighs and quietly starts clearing the bed, being sure not to close any books so no page was lost. It seems college is kicking Techno’s ass. Wilbur takes the empty monster and red bull cans from the night stand and throws them in the recycle bin, then grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it and a bottle of Advil on the nightstand. He’ll text Phil to pick up some healthy food on the way home, even if that means complaining from Tommy. Wilbur shuts the door quietly and jumps a bit at a knocking at the front door. “LET ME IN!” The youngest brother shouts, and Wilbur shuffles quickly to open the door and shush him. “Techno is asleep, shut up!” Tommy instantly changes into a whisper like Wil’s, “Finally? How long has it been?” “Too long,” Wil responds as the two brothers fall onto the couch. “I’m gonna ask Phil to pick up some chicken and salad on his way home.” Tommy whines, “Gross, I’m not eating that! Tell him to get pizza.” “No. Starve.” Tommy punches his brother in the shoulder. Wilbur punches back. They do this for two minutes. Thankfully quietly, knowing Techno would not appreciate being woken up by their fighting, and would probably suplex them both through the coffee table. Even if that meant Phil suplexing Techno through the window. Just a vicious cycle of suplexes. Wilbur delivers the last punch, “What did you and Tubbo do today?” Tommy is immediately distracted from their fight, “Oh it was so fun man we went to the arcade and I beat him at DDR.” Wilbur snorts, “That’s a fucking lie.” Tommy gasps quietly in offence, “How dare you Wil, I would never!” “Toms, you get winded climbing the stairs. Tubbo plays soccer at school. There’s no way you beat him in a very physically draining game.” Tommy huffs and chugs his diet coke he left on the coffee table yesterday. Gross. “I’ll have you know, Wilbur, I am incredibly capable. And I did beat him! Even if that was only because Ranboo and I kept pushing him off the pad.” Wilbur muffles his laugh with his sweater sleeve, “Wow Tommy, teaming with the enemy. You’ve changed, ‘Big Man’.” The offence on Tommy’s face is priceless. Wilbur wishes Techno could see it. 

When Phil comes back from work, he’s carrying a few bags as promised. “Tommy, come help me cook please.” Tommy groans in annoyance as he is yeeted off of the smash bros stage by Wilbur in the moment of distraction. “Fine. I don’t even like this food.” “Uh huh,” Phil says with an amused smile. The two blondes set to work in the kitchen, falling into a pleasant rhythm. Tommy ends up doing most of the cooking since Phil has to keep Wilbur out of the kitchen for fear of a fire, but Tommy’s the best cook anyway and he enjoys it, so it’s fine. On another one of Wilbur’s arson attempts, Techno’s door opens, and attention turns to him. He’s a mess of hair and eye bags. “I’m gonna take a shower, no one use the water.” “I’m cooking though, Tech.” “Sounds like a you problem, Toms.” The two brothers lovingly flip each other off, and Techno grabs a towel from the hall closet. Once the running water is heard, Wilbur turns to Phil, “He’s been awake for like 32 hours and only slept like 3 hours.” Phil sighs, “I don’t even know if it’s stress or insomnia at this point. He has an appointment soon to get better meds because he said his insomnia ones weren’t working and he hates the adderall, but I don’t know what will help.” Tommy waves the knife he was using to cut the chicken around, “I know what’ll help. Going to that college and beating up the professors. But no, no one wants to use the Tommyinnit method.” Phil laughs quietly, “Oh trust me, we want too. It just won’t help.” “What if we knock him out, I steal his clothes and wear a wig, and go for him for a bit?” Phil bonks Wilbur, “You know he freaks about missing lectures, and I know you’ll fall asleep and not take notes.” “That’s not a no!” “Food’s done,” Tommy says, and the shower water sound stops. Fucking psychic, Techno is. Techno is out and dressed as soon as Phil is done plating. “Welcome back mate. Did you sleep well?” Techno shrugs and takes his plate to the couch. “Techno, play smash bros with me! Wilbur keeps cheating!” “I don’t cheat you little shit I’m just better than you!” “No one is better than me. Big Man. Tommyinnit. The legend.” Techno silently grabs a controller, and the other three would be worried at the quietness if they didn’t know how too much time studying fries Techno’s brain too much for him to properly formulate words, and the stuttering and grasping for a forgotten word is incredibly embarrassing to him since he’s usually so eloquent. So the two brothers play a few rounds, Techno taking bites of salad in between kicking his brother’s ass. The plates are cleaned and Tommy reluctantly gives up. Phil talks quietly to Techno, “Are you gonna go back to studying?” A nod. “Can I stop you at all?” Shake of the head. “Do you wanna use us as body doubles?” Another nod. Wilbur chimes in, “You can keep using my headphones too.” “Oh, Techno, did yours break again?” A small nod. “I’ll add a new pair to the shopping list then. Go get your work. I’ll be here if you need help.” Techno drags out his many textbooks and drops one flat on Tommy where he’s laying on the floor. “Ow, what the fuck Tech!?” Tommy receives a middle finger in response which he of course returns. Techno does not need words to bully his brother. He uses Tommy as a table on the floor as Tommy just keeps losing in smash bros to Phil. 

An hour later, the floor bros are asleep, and Phil drapes blankets over them and places pillows beneath their heads. Who knows when they’ll sleep again if he tries to move them and they wake up? Phil and Wilbur climb into their own beds and soon join the two sleepy bois. Thankfully, Techno is still asleep when Phil gets up for work in the morning. He slips a note next to his face, ‘You don’t have a lecture today :) -phil’ That should stop his groggy brain from freaking out, and Phil is off to work. 

[cuddlepilefics]

22.    Christmas Fair

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Bang Chan

Caregiver: 2racha

 Chan’s POV.:

Officially we were on break over the seasonal holidays but me being the workaholic I am, I wasn’t able to sit still and do nothing. That’s why I went to the studio to work on some new tracks. It was much more fun to compose stuff if you could just play around a bit with out the pressure of deadlines. I spent most of the day alone at the studio, losing track of time as I tried out new beats. My members were probably resting at the dorm or roaming the city. There was a small Christmas fair in the town center and my phone kept blowing up with begging texts, asking if we could all go there together. After replying that I’d love to go there tomorrow because I’m busy at the moment, I muted my phone to avoid distractions as far as possible. When I finally shut my computer off and bundled into my coat, preparing for the walk home, it was already very late in the evening. I skipped lunch and haven’t had dinner yet, so I decided to pick up a bite to eat on the walk home. I’d be passing by the fair anyways, why not get something from one of the food-stands there.

 Changbin’s POV.:

Chan had been at the studio all day. It was already getting late and one by one my members all went to bed. The only ones remaining in the living room were Jisung and me. We felt a little guilty because our leader was still working and we didn’t. After all, it’s 3racha that produces the songs for stray kids and 3racha also includes Jisung and me, not just Chan. That’s why we grabbed notepads and worked on some lyrics, hoping they’d be of use when Chan would present us the new tracks he was working on. We had both tried to call Chan numerous times over the past thirty minutes to convince him to come home but he never picked up. Then suddenly my phone rang. “Chan?” – “Yeah, hey. I saw you tried to call me?” – “Yeah, we wanted to ask you to come home. It’s getting late.” – “Ah, I’m already on the way back. Y’all already had dinner, right?” – “Hyung, it’s almost midnight. Everyone accept for 3racha is asleep already.” – “I’ll eat a bit on the way, so it might take a bit longer. Should be home in about twenty minutes.” – “Alright, take care, hyung.” – “See you.” And with that the call ended.

 Chan’s POV.:

I didn’t really enter the fair because I mostly just wanted to get home quick, but I found a food stand on the outer edge of the fair which sold fish cakes. I bought a fish cake and also picked up a small bag of roasted chestnuts to snack on while walking. I stuffed the bad of chestnuts into my pocket, feeling the heat through the fabric, so I’d have my hands free to eat the fish cake. The meal was perfect to warm me up on a chilly night like this. I finished the fish cake and munched two of the chestnuts before arriving home and unlocking the door. After kicking off my shoes, I made my way to the living room, where I sound Changbin and Jisung between scattered sheets of paper. “Hyung, you’re finally back”, the youngest 3racha member whisper-shouted. “You are aware that we are on Christmas break, right hyung?”, the older rapper scolded. “Aish, yes I am”, I said directed at both of them, “But hey, I brought you some roasted chestnuts to make up for not being home.” Changbin just rolled his eyes at my poor attempt to distract them, while Jisung happily accepted the bag from me, immediately nibbling on one nut. I have to admit, he had never looked like a squirrel more than he did right now. We both chuckled at our youngest before saying good night and getting ready for bed.

The evening seemed to fade out peacefully but the truth was that my belated dinner turned out to have been a mistake. Or at least my food choice had been a mistake. The fish cake wasn’t agreeing with me so well. I couldn’t remember whether there were hints of it being undercooked or if it tasted weird, I just knew that my stomach wasn’t too happy about it. It had started to hurt a few minutes after I arrived home. Slowly the pain increased into cramps, that felt like somebody was stabbing the upper area of my abdomen with a dull knife. I knew that I should just go to bed, everybody else was asleep already. Maybe I’d be able to just sleep it off.

My attempts to sleep the pain off, ended about ten minutes later when the pain had turned into nausea. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could because Changbin had just gone to bed and was probably not that deeply asleep yet. Slightly bent over with one arm around my middle and the other braced against the wall, I stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the light. I did make it to the toilet but as soon as I had settled on my knees in front of it, the urge to throw up was gone. I pushed myself back up, groaning in frustration that I had gotten up unnecessarily but as soon as I was on my feet again, I immediately felt sick again. The cycle repeated itself a few times, till I decided to just stay in the bathroom whether I had to throw up in the end or not.

 Changbin’s POV.:

I hadn’t been asleep yet, when Chan left the room again. He was probably just going to the restroom, so I closed my eyes again, trying to go to sleep. When he still wasn’t back twenty minutes later, I suspected, he had snuck to the living room to continue working there on his laptop. It’s not like that had never happened before, so to me that was the most likely explanation for his disappearance. I was getting angry at our leader’s behavior, we were on Christmas break for duck’s sake, why couldn’t he just make use of the time he’s given to rest? Controlling my anger to not wake the younger Aussie in our room, I quietly pushed off the blanket and slipped out of the room, determined to drag our leader’s workaholic ass back to bed. When I got to the living room however, everything was dark. Now I really had no idea where my hyung could have gone. On the way back to my room, there was light shining through underneath the bathroom door.

I gently tapped my finger against the door, opening it when I heard a low “Yeah?”. Chan was resting with his back against the bathtub, looking up at me with dark circles under his eyes. “Hey, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in bed?”, I frowned, noticing the yellowish pallor of his cheeks. “Kinda stuck here”, he mumbled, closing his eyes. “How so?”, I asked, taking a seat opposite of him. “Dinner’s not sitting well. I’m ok, it just hurts right now but everytime I try to get up, I feel like I’m going to be sick”, he breathed. “Was it the chestnuts?”, my eyes widened, remembering that Jisung had finished almost the entire bag. The leader shook his head: “Fish cake” Ok, at least that made only one sick member. “What are you going to do now? Just stay here for the night?”, I questioned. “Probably”, he shrugged, muffling a burp into his fist. “I actually hope I’d just throw up. I’ll probably be fine once it’s out”, he admitted uncharacteristically shy. I sighed and got up.

 Chan’s POV.:

Changbin just left and I was glad he’d get the sleep he needed, even though I really didn’t want to be alone right now, it was still better that making one of my dongsaengs stay awake with me. I could handle myself, always have. Could I really? Another twist of my stomach made me doubt it as my mouth started to water. I shifted back onto my knees in anticipation, when the door cracked open once again. I didn’t turn to look at whoever came in, not even when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, I got you a bottle of water. Maybe if you chug that down really fast it will make everything come out”, Changbin whispered, setting the bottle down next to me. “Thought you had gone back to bed”, I mumbled sheepishly, wrapping my arms tighter around my middle and gritting my teeth as I was hit with another cramp. “And left you here? Never!”, my dongsaeng gasped. I felt really fuzzy and warm at this comment but was soon brought back to reality when a wave of nausea washed over me. I decided to go along with Changbin’s idea and uncapped the water bottle. Raising it to my lips, the very first sip made it clear that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. I struggled to swallow and it seemed like my mind was preventing me from putting anything else into my already upset stomach. Choking, I spat out the water that was still in my mouth, handing the bottle back. Luckily, the rapper got the hint and quickly took it from my hand. The coughing triggered a gag but that was it. “S-Sorry, c-can’t”, I forced out between clenched teeth, still hovering over the toilet. Changbin sighed and rubbed my back in soothing circles as I breathed heavily, on the edge of throwing up but not quite there. I could taste the fish cake, I could even feel it at the back of my throat but it just wouldn’t come out. Frustrated teeth make their way down my face and I didn’t even bother wiping the away, knowing there’d just be new ones.

 Jisung’s POV.:

I always needed some time to fall asleep. I heard shuffling in the hall and people talking in hushed voices but decided to stay in bed, if they don’t value their sleep, it’s their problem, not mine. Until I heard quiet sobs, that is. Startling at the different noise, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, careful to not wake the maknae I was sharing a room with. Padding down the hallway, I followed the noise, ending up in front of the bathroom door. I tapped the door twice as a warning, before carefully pushing it open and stepping in. Sitting on the bathroom floor, I found my other two 3racha members. “What’s going on?”, I yawned, squatting down next to them. With Chan seemingly unable to speak, Changbin answered for him, his hand never leaving the leader’s back: “Channie-hyung had a fish cake for dinner, which isn’t quite agreeing with him. He really needs to be sick but can’t. I tried to make him chug water but he can’t even get that down and I have no other idea what else to do.” Oh, that explains why our hyung is crying so hard. He must feel really bad if he’d voluntarily throw up. I chewed on my lips, thinking hard. The water would have been the first thing to come to my mind too but then I had a different idea. Grabbing a hair clip from the sink, I motioned for Changbin to switch positions with me. He nodded, watching me closely, trying to figure out what I wanted to do.

I knelt down behind my oldest hyung, clipping his bangs back in one swift motion. “Hyung, I’m going to hug you really tight, ok?”, I muttered into the leader’s ear. He nodded, removing his arms from his stomach, gripping onto the edge of the bathtub and toilet seat instead. I gently snaked my own arms around his middle, feeling his tense abs under my hands. “Just slap my arm if it hurts too bad or you want me to stop”, I warned before slowly tightening my arms around him, increasing the pressure I was putting on his stomach. At first nothing was happening, Chan only flinched a bit in pain, till he suddenly pithed forward in my hold, retching harshly. I could see his knuckles turning white, as he braced himself before retching again. This time, there was actually something coming up, although it wasn’t much. I closed my eyes, afraid the feeling of Chan’s stomach, contracting underneath my arms in combination with sight and smell, would send my own stomach over the edge. Instead, I just kept holding my hyung in a back hug, feeling every twitch of his muscles and following his movements when he jerked over the toilet bowl, trying to ignore the sounds of liquid hitting liquid. Every cough, gag or burp was amplified by the porcelain bowl, forcing me to grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, while trying to keep my grip steady. ‘Alright Sungie, just think of puppies, cute little puppies’ I told myself.

Changbin must have seen my face change color because he tapped my back before gently pushing me to the side and taking my place. I don’t usually get sympathy sick but that just now was really testing my limits. With a jerking motion of his head, he signaled for me to leave. His eyes told me that he got it handled and that I should flee as long as I still could. I nodded quickly, slipping out of the bathroom and closing the door between us. Shakily, I went to my room to get my phone and headphones to drown out the noise coming from the bathroom. Turning up the music, I went to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. While I waited for the water to boil, I fetched two peppermint teabags, dropping them into a teapot. I decided to make more than just one cup of tea because my own stomach was still doing flips too. I was still waiting, when my stomach tightened, forcing me to quickly lean over the sink. Luckily the weak gag brought nothing up but that was a close-call. I rested my forehead against the counter, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. I was able to get my bearings and straightened back up to pour the water over the teabags, taking the teapot along with three cups to the coffee table.

Soon, the pair emerged from the bathroom, Changbin supporting a sweaty Chan to the couch, before taking off to fetch a bucket, just in case. “Feeling better?”, I asked, anxiously playing with my fingers. “Yeah, thanks mate”, the oldest replied, voice hoarse from getting sick. He curled up on the couch, drawing his legs up a bit as he shivered. He must be pretty cold in his sweat-through shirt, so I pulled the woolen blanket we always keep in the living room from the back of the couch, covering his trembling form completely. Only barely catching the quiet “Thanks”, a small smile spread on my lips as Changbin returned, placing a bucket next to the couch. He guided me to the other couch where we could cuddle while keeping a close eye on our leader. Seems like we’re in for another 3racha all-nighter….

[hot-tea-gardenparty]

Title: The Heavy Hands of Hope

Author: coffeeforcastiel

Rating: G (mild language)

Pairing: Destiel, Dean/Cas, Dean Winchester, Castiel

Notes: So....you all are gonna hate me here because this drabble down below is...well it’s a sad one. I do not know why I felt the need to write a sad drabble after 15.18 and not like...a fun, cute, ‘Dean-coming-to-save-Cas” coda...which is actually what I had intended to write when I sat down last night at my computer. But this came out instead. Maybe this is where my heart was yesterday and so....this is what it produced.  The funny thing is, I do not think this is actually what will happen in the next two episodes of the show. I really don’t. FYI, I believe Dean will be better than this in handling what happened and I DO THINK that Cas will be coming back.

So it’s strange my brain did this the way that it did. *shrugs* Anyways, hope you like it and please let me know if you did!

Dean lay in bed. For how long he’d been there…that was another question entirely.

Longer than what was usually acceptable, he knew that much. But damn if he wanted to stay in bed, stare at the ceiling and pretend the world didn’t exist, he figured he’d earned that right…especially after what had happened. Especially after loosing what he had.

He rolled over, his sweat pants scrunching up between his calves and knees under the thin blankets as he tiredly eyed the tall, frosty glass of water Sam had left on his bedside table a few minutes prior. Sam had knocked softly on his bedroom door, stating he was going to take the Impala in search of any nearby hunters to tell them the good news…that Chuck was defeated. That they had won.

Dean couldn’t muster up enough give a shit to respond besides a shrug and a grumbled, “Don’t do anything stupid.” As Sam nodded in uncomfortable understanding, a forced smile upon his face. The faded white light of the hallway bulbs illuminated Sam’s front as he walked out of the room, muttering a quick ‘see you later’ and shutting the bedroom door with a soft click. Dean sighed in release, listening to his brother’s footfalls as they echoed down the hallway, through the war room and up the bunker’s main stairs.  Dean could have sworn he’d heard Baby’s engine roar and rev as Sam drove her out of the garage.

He should drink something. Probably. Something other than whiskey straight from the bottle, Dean thought, his head pounding from the past few days of drunken stupor and cold, leftover pizza.

Lifting himself to sit upright, Dean grabbed the glass of water, chugging the entirety in three large gulps. His headache was pounding even worse behind his eyes with the immediate change in position and now he felt like he might have to puke. Lovely.

Throwing his feet to floor, Dean recoiled at the loud clattering of the empty whiskey bottles he’d forgotten about, his feet scattering them further around the head of his bed. He sighed in annoyance at himself and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. He had a few missed text messages from Sam, asking him how he was the past few days he’d been holed up in his room and one from a random hunter asking for assistance. He stared at the screen, his thumb scrolling through his recent outgoing calls.

Sam. Sam. Charlie. Sam. Jody. Donna. Sam……..and then….Cas.

His thumb held still, hovering over the green call button next to Cas’ name.

Dean took a deep breath as he sent the outgoing call to Cas’ cell.

Ring. Ring. He had no idea why he was doing this. Ring. Ring. What was the point? It’s not like Cas would answer. Ring. Ring. Click…click…Please leave a message for… “I do not understand. Why do you need me to say my name?” Beeeeeeep.

Fat, wet tears splashed onto the lit phone screen as Dean hung up. He choked on the salty loneliness grasping at the back of his throat as he started to chuckle humorlessly over the fact that Cas still hadn’t changed his voicemail greeting after all these years. It’s not like this was new information for Dean, he’d listened to the greeting many times before…but this time….

This time, Dean knew he wouldn’t get the chance to tease Cas about it. To tell him to change it. To make him just use the basic voicemail greeting that came with the phone. The idiot.

Cas was gone.

Gone for good.

Wiping away the tears streaking his cheeks with his palm, Dean threw his phone to land on the mattress and slowly padded his way to the kitchen to find his favorite Costco sized bottle of pain killers. He poured out four pills. Should be enough to numb his…everything.

Dean grabbed another glass of water and swallowed his pills in the shadowed kitchen, the only light coming in from the hallway through the open doorway. The silence of the bunker was almost eerie.

No Sam, no Jack, no Cas…it was just Dean, alone in the large expanse of underground. His movements, no matter how small, seeming to echo and reverberate around the gray concrete arches and cold steel shelving. It felt strange. Dean had always considered the bunker his new home, since by now it was as comfortable and familiar as the Impala. He had even carved his initials into the library table. But now, even with Sam still around and the random visiting hunter popping in on their drive throughs, the bunker’s walls felt still and cold. Lacking somehow.

And Dean knew…he knew…with a bitter tang in his throat and a hot, restless sorrow in his stomach, he knew…it was Cas.

Without Cas, it was as if a piece was missing in a close to finished puzzle. You wouldn’t be able to see the full picture, the beauty of the vision, without this essential, important fragment. It had only taken Dean too many years, too many avoided conversations, too many lonely, drunken nights, to finally realize it.

But now…it was too late. He’d waited too long.

Cas was in the Empty. Drowning in the ether of mistakes, pain and regret. Cas had made that decision and Dean was made to agree. He hadn’t been given a choice.

Of course, Dean didn’t like that plan. Didn’t want to go ahead with it once he realized it was happening. But who would? Who would want the suddenly realized love of their life taken away from them forever? So yes, Dean had wanted to beg him to stay. Wanted to plead with Cas to rethink this. He wanted to cry out, crocodile tears openly flowing down his face, leaving clear trails down his grimy cheeks. He thought about grabbing onto the lapels of Cas’ trench coat, bringing his face close and confessing his true feelings lips to lips. He wanted, he should have, told Cas everything, right then, while the vengeful world seemingly paused around them for just a second, held back by a flimsy wooden door and streaks of blood.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Dean had wanted so much more, even if he never really stated the desire out loud. He wanted to stutter stupidly around the ���I love you,” and the “I don’t think I can do this shit without you,” and “Please forgive me” as he held Cas’ face in the palms of his hands or brought him close enough that they felt each other’s breath on their lips. He wanted to finally be able to admit it all. To spill the confessions he had held back by the dam of his repression, let them flow out of his mouth and drown him in the emotions filling up thick, magnetic, heated air.

Castiel changed everything that day, but what else did he have to lose? Dean had already waited too long, and Cas had to do something. Say something. Make it all matter in the end.

A bitter sounding laugh left Dean’s lips and echoed around the kitchen at the memory of Castiel’s final moments, as the inky black took over and dragged him away. Even after all that Cas had said, all that had been done, Dean still couldn’t respond. Like a fucking coward.

He sat on that dungeon floor and wept for what seemed like hours. He looked up at the beige ceiling, eyes wandering between each flaking chip of paint, connecting the proverbial dots in the constellation, all of them coming together to form an image of Castiel in his mind. He felt like he was waiting for a sign as his last tears dried in sticky trails down his cheeks. Waiting for the acknowledgement he knew wouldn’t come.

“….I do love you, Cas. I love you too. I love you too.”

If Cas did hear him, there was no way he could let Dean know…not from where he might be…not from his eternal sleep, at least.

But Dean could hope….even though he knew it was worthless.

 ~Fin~

 Again....I am sorry for the pains....but thank you for reading!

[iwritesickfic]

1/2 Aaaaah I’ve fallen quickly in love with your writing, I love your style. A couple of prompts, since you asked for them: Peter thinks he’s recovering from a bad illness- genuinely so fed up of being ill that at this point he’s willing to pretend to himself and everyone else he’s feeling better. Meanwhile he’s still staying up late working, and one day he gets stuck in the rain on the way from class and needs some help... and Ashlyn is closest...

First, thank you!!!!!! Second, this is long as hell and I also got sucked into the DRAMA of it all so I hope you still enjoy it :) might write a second part if we’re feeling it? anyway, enjoy and thanks for the kind words and prompts :)

It seems like it’s been forever since Peter hasn’t felt like shit. It’s like his body is trying to make up for all the years he spent avoiding every cold and flu that went around. He has to admit though, the main reason he’s still ill is because he won’t really give himself the time to fully recover. As soon as he’s feeling halfway decent, he dives back into life as normal - which for him, is 6 hours sleep and living on coffee - and within a week he’s back to being practically bedridden.

Leo is fed up with it. Big time. At least that’s what Peter’s gathered. Leo’s never said as much, but Peter figures he must be getting tired of it by now. So much that Peter’s stopped telling him how he’s feeling. At first it was just lying by omission. Now it’s lying-lying.

Today, everything’s concentrated in his head. His sinuses are throbbing, and his eyes hurt to move. He’s been swapping between chills and feeling too hot all day, and he’s pretty sure everyone in his lecture class hates his guts for his constant sniffling. He ran out of tissues about an hour into the six hour course, so he’s stuck wiping his nose with the crumpled leftovers and the few napkins he finds in a pocket of his bag.

By the time there’s only an hour left in class, he’s lost all ability to absorb anything the professor is saying. He’s shaking so badly he can’t take notes even if he wanted to. He’s considered leaving early, but to be honest, he’d rather put off his walk to the train as long as possible. He decides when he gets home, he’s chugging some nyquil, taking a cold shower, and going the fuck to sleep. He’s got a date with Leo tonight but he’ll need to make some excuse.

When the professor finally ends the class, he gets a rush of dopamine at the thought he’s only a 15 minute walk and a 30 minute train ride from some relief.

He stares at his phone, trying to think of something to tell Leo.

something came up, can i see you thursday?

Leo texts back almost immediately.

we already rescheduled twice are you sure you cant make it?

Peter bites his lip.

it’s a thesis thing. im sorry i promise thursday night.

He starts to pack his bag, and his phone buzzes.

ok, good luck love x

He pushes down the wave of guilt he feels and slings his bag over his shoulder. His heart drops into his stomach when he gets to the building’s lobby. It’s raining. Really raining, not just drizzling, but pouring. He swears, and sits down on one of the benches. He can wait.

Ten minutes later, the rain still hasn’t let up, and he knows if he doesn’t get up now he’s going to end up asleep on this bench whether he likes it or not. When he stands, the world starts to spin, and he has to bite back a whine at the way his headache worsens.

He pulls his hood on, even though it won’t make much of a difference, and takes a step outside. It’s not even five minutes before he’s soaked. At first, the rain almost felt nice on his fevered skin, but now he’s freezing. The cold’s worsened the way his nose is running, there’s mess all over his upper lip, and he can’t stop sneezing. His hair is stuck to his forehead, water gathered in his eyelashes. It’s another five minutes before he realizes he’s not getting to the train. His knees give out, and he has to catch himself against a bus shelter. He manages to make it to the bench inside, and sinks down, hyperventilating. He looks around aimlessly, hoping something will catch his eye and give him some semblance of a plan. And it does.

He’s on 110th and Amsterdam. That’s a block from Ashlynn’s apartment. Less than a block. He stands up, waiting for the world to stop spinning before making an attempt to walk. He tries not to think about the cold, or the way he can’t feel his toes, or the pounding in his head. Just focuses on one foot in front of the other.

He finds himself at her building. He presses her buzzer with shaking fingers, praying she’s home. He doesn’t have to wait even 30 seconds before the lobby door opens.

he steps inside, unable to hold back the heavy sigh of relief at the sudden warmth. He stands there for a moment, swaying slightly, before making his way to the elevator. Somehow, he finds himself at her door, and knocks. he hears her footsteps padding closer and closer before she’s standing right there, in front of him.

“Peter?” she looks puzzled until the world starts to tilt and he grips the doorframe to stay upright. “Whoa, hey, are you alright?” He opens his mouth to speak but three harsh sneezes come out instead, and he buries them into the wet sleeve of his hoodie. “Ok, c’mere.” She pulls him inside, and before he really knows what’s going on, he’s sitting at her kitchen table.

“S’raining,” he mumbles, and she hums in response.”M’cold.”

“I can tell. Here -” She starts to strip off his hoodie, which is totally soaked through. His shivering worsens, and she palms his forehead. “Shit, Peter.” She takes the hem of his t shirt and hesitates. “Can I...?” He nods, and she peels it off. She unties his sneakers and pulls off his socks, then bites her lip. “I can grab you a pair of my roommate’s sweatpants and you can change in the bathroom, yeah?” He shakes his head. There is no way he’s walking anywhere right now. She goes red. “You want me to...”

“M’gonna pass out if I try to stand up, Ash.”

Carefully, she unbuttons his jeans, tugging them off until he’s sitting in his underwear. She disappears for a moment before coming back with a towel, and wraps it around his shoulders. She places a box of tissues on his lap, and sits down in the chair across from him.

“What’s going on?”

“M’sick.” She laughs softly. Peter gingerly starts to wipe his nose, wincing at the raw, chapped soreness. He blows, and a spike of pain hits him between the eyes.

“Yeah, I can tell. Why were you -”

“Walking home from class,” he mumbles, and she nods. She stands up, and reappears with a thermometer. “Can we not?”

“If you wanna stay here then you’re gonna have to let me baby you,” she says, and if it didn’t hurt so bad he’d roll his eyes. He lets her stick the device under his tongue, and while she’s waiting for the reading she starts heating up water for tea. The thermometer beeps and she removes it gently. She frowns.

“What?” She takes a deep breath.

“It’s high, that’s all.” He raises his eyebrows at her. “102.2.”

“Not so bad,” he murmurs. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Sitting here in the warmth of the kitchen his body is finally deciding it’s had enough. The sudden warmth is also making his nose run. He sniffles.

“I’m not even gonna comment on that. C’mon, you can lay down on the couch. I’d offer you my bed but I don’t think you’ll make it that far to be honest.” He nods, and she pulls him upright. He manages to make it the few feet to the couch, and lands heavily. She swaps the towel for a blanket, and he’s never felt something better than the way it feels on his freezing, damp skin. Dry and warm and heavy. He curls up on his side, holding a tissue under his still-leaking nose, and he doesn’t last 30 seconds before falling asleep.

He’s awakened suddenly by the harsh ring of his cell phone. His headache is worse, despite the rest, and though his nose has stopped running it seems, his head is fully, hopelessly congested. He digs through his bag to find his phone, and frowns when he sees it’s Leo. He considers letting the call go to voicemail, but that’s before he sees the 5 previous missed calls.

“Hello?” He hates the way his voice sounds - sick and congested and torn up.

“Peter, what the fuck is going on?”

“I’m uh...I’m home working on thesis.” It takes him a moment to remember his lie from earlier.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why then do I see a photo of you, shirtless, on Ashlynn’s couch?” Peter knows immediately that he has fucked up, big time. “Do I really need to explain to you why that makes me upset?”

“Leo -”

“You better have a good fucking explanation for this.” Maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t seen Leo in weeks, or maybe it’s the build up of all the guilt he’s felt lying to him, but Peter feels tears start to fall. He breaks into sobs, and they make his headache exponentially worse.

“Leo, p-please, I -” He can barely speak around his tears. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad at you for what?” His voice is cold. “Tell me. I want to hear you tell me.”

“It’s...it’s not -”

“Tell me, Peter.”

“I didn’t want...I didn’t want you to be mad at me.” His fevered brain can’t quite string together the right words.

“How would...” He trails off. “How would sleeping with Ashlynn not make me mad?”

“I didn’t - we...it wasn’t...I know you’re tired of taking care of me, so -”

“What?” Leo’s tone has shifted.

“I know you’re sick of me being sick, so I was gonna just go home and sleep and then it was raining, and I was so fucking dizzy, and I was on 110th street -”

“Wait. Stop. Let me get this straight. You’re ill?”

“Yeah,” he says, and the guilt is absolutely eating him up. “I didn’t want to bother -”

“Love, why would that be bothering me?” Leo sounds almost sad.

“You-you’re so busy, and -”

“Peter, I don’t know what kind of miscommunication happened here but I’m not...I wouldn’t be bothered if I knew you weren’t feeling well. I mean, I’d be upset but just because I don’t want you to feel bad. I wouldn’t be mad at you or angry with you or something like that. Why would you have that idea?”

“I’d hate me if I was you,” he chokes out, and Leo sighs.

“Peter...Look, can I come get you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know that, that’s not why I asked.” He pauses. “Where’s Ashlynn?”

That’s a good question. Peter isn’t sure. At class, maybe?

“Not uh...not here.”

“Ok, I’m gonna call you back. I love you, ok?”

“Mmhm. Love you too.”

“Ok, just relax. Everything’s alright. Hang tight.”

“Ok.”

[celticvampriss]

This is a prequel fic to Established Rhythm involving my own OC, Kira Skye, and a developing romance with the Mandalorian.  If anyone wants to be tagged when I update let me know.  You can read this by following the link or reading the chapter below the read more. 

TAG LIST: @banana-batman

A scream followed the hydraulic hiss of the central lifter and a body flew over the extending boarding ramp.  It landed with a crunch on a bed of grime and dust, sending a wave of rodents scattering into the trash that had built up in the corner of the mud caked buildings. The sun was blocked by a haze of cloud and smog, the air thick with greenhouse heat that added a nice pungency to the overall smell.

The Mandalorian looked down at his feet, meeting a pair of wide brown eyes that naively saw no issues with the landscape they were about to enter.

“This is no place for a kid,” He said, almost to himself.  The Kid liked the occasional sound or he’d get mischievous, and so Dyn was working on the habit of narrating.  If only to save his ship from idle green hands.  “Any chance I can get you to listen and stay put?”

The Kid cooed, already heading down the ramp.

Dyn sighed.

He let the Kid walk for exactly two tense minutes before scooping him up and quickly weaving his way through the city to his destination.  He couldn’t say this was an ideal choice for a new base for the Enclave, but then it wasn’t his place to have a say.  He was the reason they’d had to move.  Dyn had already memorized the layout, easily finding the new base and proceeding inside.  There, at least, surrounded by familiarity and even—despite the new scenery—as close a sense to ‘home’ as he could claim, The Kid would be safe on his own legs, but had protested being set down.  With a sigh, Dyn continued to carry him.

As he neared the Armorer, the one who had summoned him, he noticed a face that didn’t belong.  A woman with no helmet or armor—who wore quite the opposite in a brightly colored gown with dark hair twisted and bent into an elaborate design—his eyes lingered on her.  It was jarring to see a face in the Enclave, he’d imagine it was similar to walking through the halls of your childhood home and seeing a ghost leaning on the kitchen counter chatting with your parents.  

He found the Armorer and set the Kid down as he sat and waited.  She was in the middle of working and didn’t care to be interrupted.

With a spray of steam, she threw down her smithing gloves and came around to greet him with a silent nod, which he returned.

The Armorer’s gaze drifted briefly to the Kid and then back.  “We have a time critical situation that will require your cooperation.”

“What do you need?”

“We need protection and immediate evacuation for her,” The Armorer gestured past the open archway of the armory, to the woman he noticed earlier.

His fists clenched. He couldn’t refuse the request.  `“Why?  What does she need protecting from?”

“She’s proven to be a great asset to our community, with connections that might just get us some ground in our plans for the future.  A little less hiding.”

“A politician?”  No wonder she needed protection.  

“Not exactly, but there are those who will silence her if they had the chance.  We can’t risk that.  So you are going to get Kira Skye off this planet and keep her alive until we contact you.”

Dyn glanced at the woman again, her chin high in the air, shoulders set, though closer observation showed the snagged and frayed edges of her dress—recent damage—and that elaborate hair design was lopsided.  If he were to guess, she was a highborn lady, someone who had grown up with credits and privilege.  And still ‘no’ was not an option.

“Fine,” He relented, “But my ship is small, she’ll have to travel light.”

“She has one bag,” The Armorer gestured to a small, well made rucksack near the door.

They exchanged terse parting words and Dyn scooped up the Kid to leave.  He hesitated, then grabbed the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. Out in the hall, the other Mandalorian’s had left, and she was alone and staring questioningly in his direction.

He sighed, resolving himself to this situation outside his control and silently hoping that it wouldn’t turn out the way he was predicting.  Now, closer, he noted the signs of fear and unease in her posture and manners.  “Guess you’re with me,” He said, “Come on.”

Kira followed him silently. If he knew that would be her only moments of silence, he might have appreciated it properly, for now he was only grateful to put that planet behind him and that she hadn’t cried.  

She marched up the boarding ramp, head high, and immediately crossed her arms as her eyes bounced around the main cabin.  Once inside the Razorcrest, he set her bag and the Kid down.  “Sit tight until I come back.”  He headed for the cockpit.

“Wait,” She marched after him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting you off this planet,” He said, “As ordered.”

Her mouth opened and closed, green eyes flashing with a touch of insanity.  Her heart was racing, too.  He wasn’t sure what had brought her to this moment, but he was starting to piece it together.  One bag, nice clothes that were freshly torn, and how hard she was trying to cover her fear and panic with forced confidence.  She started to wring her hands together, fingers working over and over each other as her breathing grew heavier.

“Here, sit.”  He guided her without touching her to a seat—a crate that was the right height—and then the shut bay door.  

“I’m fine. Really.  I’ll be fine.  I just,” She swallowed, “I just need some air.”

He didn’t know how to tell her that all her air would be recirculated from the air scrubbers and life-support systems for the foreseeable future.  It was the kind of comment that wouldn’t help anyway.  Instead he found a canteen and offered her old water that, maybe, hadn’t gone stale.

Kira chugged it, water spilling out the corners of her mouth, and when she finished she swiped at her lips with the back of her hand.  “Thank you,” She said through heavy breaths, “I don’t remember the last time I drank anything.”

Sitting wasn’t wise. He needed to get them airborne and on their way if the threats to her life were that serious.  Yet, every time he turned to do just that, she stopped him.

“Can I come?”  She pleaded, eyes big and the barest tremor in her lips.  The Kid had already crawled his way up there, though how was a mystery, and he did have the seat for another.  There wasn’t any reason to say no except that there was a lot of people encroaching on his solitude and, though he wouldn’t say he hated it, he wasn’t used to it either.

“Sure,” He relented. She crawled into the seat behind his, pulling her legs up under her and getting cozy.  He’d never be that flexible, especially with all the armor.

“What’s that flashing?” She asked, as the engines started up and he went through the launching sequences.  He glanced down, where her finger was pointing.

“Proximity sensor.”

“What does that do?”

“Alerts when we’re close to things.”

He felt her rise, her hands gripping the back of his seat while she craned her head around him to look. “What about that?”

“It’ll take a long time to explain every switch or indicator,” He said, “And you should be seated. Or you’ll fall.”

She sat and he heard the safety harness click.  “I have time, you know.”

He sighed.  The Kid cooed in his lap while every other minute she fpund something new to say or ask.  He counted one blessing, her constant talking was keeping the kid happy which meant he didn’t have to do it.  Once they were moving, he technically didn’t have to stay in the cockpit, but he liked to.  Or, rather, sitting in the cockpit had become a habit when he was alone and had nothing else to occupy him while traveling.  Now, he supposed, there were things he could do, like see to Kira’s temporary living situation.  The Kid had found a shelf to call home—forgoing the crib he’d tried to build for him—and didn’t take up much space.  As for accommodations, the Razorcrest had exactly one sleeping cabin with one single bed. There was a cot somewhere in his gear, buried, but he’d have to make it work.  He could hardly stick her on the cot in the middle of the open.

“Where are we going?” She asked, ending a solid 47 seconds of silence.

“Not sure yet,” He said, “Right now, I’ve got us heading toward the outer rim.  Best place to lay low.”

There was a touch of awe in her voice, which was so naturally expressive he hardly needed to see her to know every emotion she was feeling.  “I’ve never been this far from home before.  I’ll admit, for as much as I’m afraid, I’m also excited.”

“That’s nice,” He added, though it wasn’t to be dismissive.  She seemed to pick up on that and babbled on.

“I’ve read about a great many planets, learning and reading are my favorite activities, since I hadn’t gotten out much as a child.  If I’d known I was going to be traveling, I’d have read about ships and their functions. Then I’d have a better idea what all these things do,” She gestured around the cockpit, “Like I’ve been staring at that panel up there for ages, but I can’t decide if it’s meant to show the engines or the life-support functions.”

“Neither,” he said, “That’s an optical transducer panel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means there are sensors in places sensors aren’t normally found.  Keeps the ship more secure.”

“How does it—”

“There’s a manual,” He said, rising and scooting around her legs to a cabinet above her head.  He brushed off some of the dust and handed the data pad to her.  “Everything about the ship is in there.”

The thing was a relic, he’d never touched it in the years since he’d owned the ship, but the look in her eyes when her fingers closed around half a century old data pad you’d think it was a gold plated set of rare jewels.  She stood up, hugging the data pad to her chest, and they were very close together—nowhere else to stand—and she looked like she might try to hug him.

“Your room is down here,” He avoided quickly, heading down the ladder and away from the smothering intensity of her eyes.  

She followed him down, saying something about ladders and climbing them in dresses and impractical shoes, and how she really wished she had been able to grab a proper change of clothes. “As it is,” She continued, “It’s just more of this.  I hadn’t a chance to…” She swallowed.  “I took what I could and, unfortunately, that means nothing of real use.  I don’t even have shoes.”  She gestured to the high heel of her footwear and then proceeded to rip them off and chuck them in a corner.  “I’ll clean those up later.”  She said, marching barefoot past him.

“There’s only one cabin with a bed.  I’ll need a few minutes to get what I need out, but then it’s all yours—”

She held up her hand in a very commanding gesture, though somehow she managed it without the condescending air.  “Out of the question.”

“There’s no other room.”

She looked around, “I can figure out something out here.”

“You can take the room.”

“No.”  She crossed her arms, and gave him a look that said quite clearly he would not win this debate.  She would outlast him.

He sighed.  “Then all I have is a cot.  I need to find it first.”

“I’ll help you look.”

They searched through the accumulated junk and odds and ends for a good half hour.  Mostly silent, except she had to constantly ask him questions about the things she found.  She even cleaned as she went, neatening each displaced object whether it was trash or not. Her path through the minimal storage space was an organized trail.  He looked back at his path, and it was just a mess with a walkway in the middle.  They found the cot after another half hour and he set it up and placed it against a wall.  At least, without carbonite bounties taking up space, there was more room to walk, but that still didn’t leave much.  There was also the issue that the cot needed to be secured.  He found some tools and welded it in place. He’d hack it apart later.  Or leave it, didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” she said once he finished.  He nodded.

“I’m sorry I don’t have much for sheets, but there’s an extra pillow.” This was a lie, there was only one and it was his, but he was starting to learn that if he told her that, she’d refuse it.

“Ha!” She tore open her rucksack and started tossing long, flashy garments over the faded, dull green canvas of the cot.  “Guess they did have a use after all.”

“Can I get you anything else?”  There wasn’t much else to offer.

“No, thank you.  I’ll be fine.  Please don’t worry about me.”

He nodded, then hesitated to leave.  It was still bothering him, her not taking the room.  He didn’t want to voice it, but he thought he could guess the reason. Still, the question wouldn’t come, so he watched her awkwardly for a second, before snapping back to his senses and attempting to leave.

“You want to know why I refused your room,” She stopped him, eyes knowing.  How she had guessed his question, he decided not to imagine.  She gave him a knowing wink and then tapped her head.  “I know a bit about the culture and I’m not about to throw you out of your space when, of the two of us, you’re the one who needs privacy.”

He had a feeling that was it, but then he hadn’t expected her—anyone, really—to be that considerate of what he needed.  People often attempted.  If they weren’t skirting the line of rudeness, then they would at least be civil about it.  But never adjusting their own comfort for his.

He left her.  He wasn’t quite tired, so he returned to the cockpit to try and settle on a place they could restock supplies.  Her voice drifted up from her cot, a slow, luring song in words he didn’t understand.  She was singing.  He might have minded, except her voice was pleasing.  Lyrical, but strong, he decided to enjoy it rather than tune her out by adjusting his audio sensors.

It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.  He swiveled in his seat, glancing toward where she lay, but unable to see her.  He only knew she slept because the singing had stopped.  It had been nice, but the quiet was welcome.  Alone, with only the sounds of the ship, it was a piece of his old normal.  He settled back to enjoy the encompassing solitude, when Kira’s voice startled him into standing.  He hopped down the ladder, though he couldn’t imagine that any danger had found her in the two hours since he’d left her, and he realized she was still sleeping.  Her voice babbled incoherent strings of words and phrases.  

Of course she talked in her sleep.  He had a feeling that his moments of solitary quiet would only exist in memory.  

[love-and-monsters]

Alien Encounter Pt. 9: Picnic

Valain and I had become closer since we spoke about his parents. He was more comfortable with me than he had ever been before. I was pretty happy about it. He would put aa hand on my shoulder or my back casually, and seemed pleased when I reciprocated. Our new closeness, however, was only making having to stay in the house all day waiting for Valain. Not only was it boring, but I was starting to miss him more keenly.

\The weather had shifted too. The humidity had dropped as the rainy season ended and instead, there was a dry, baking heat. It was less like being steeped in a muggy swamp and more like being trapped in an oven. The dry heat hit Valain much harder than the humidity. He often returned home panting and chugged most of the water in the house before collapsing into sleep.

\“Are you going to be okay?” I asked when he dragged himself into the house one day and promptly just lay on the floor for several minutes, unmoving.

“I am going to be okay,” he mumbled. “It’s a dry spell. Usually the dry hot season happens right after the rainy hot season. Eventually it will cool down.” He took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I hope, anyway.”

I reached out to draw my fingers over his head. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. I’d been trying to help him by getting a wet cloth and draping it over his forehead. It seemed to be doing some good, although it still wasn’t doing as much as either of us hoped.

\“It ended for me. It’ll end for you too,” I said. Valain sighed and sat up, stretching from head to tail.

“It can’t end soon enough.” He leaned back against a wall, fanning himself with a large leaf.

I got up, stretching my legs. I was struggling not to lose my mind after about two weeks of being almost completely confined inside. Valain looked up at me as I paced around the room. “I did have a thought, though, as I was patrolling.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned forward, eyes fixed on me with interest. “You can come out with me,” he said.

“How?” I said, a little thrown. He’d always been the one who didn’t want me to go out with him. “Are you going to carry me on your back again? You really look like you’d collapse if you had to do any more work outside.”

“I don’t have to carry you,” he said. “It’s the dry season. The ground’s not as wet any more. I think you’d be able to walk around outside.”

“Really?” My heart leapt. “Wait. What about the other people who are patrolling? What if they see me?”

“We can avoid the borders. A lot of guards don’t go fully to the borders when they patrol in the dry season. It’s just too much effort in this heat.” He leaned further toward me, eyes shining. “Please? It’ll be more bearable if you’re there with me.”

Dammit. His big, pleading eyes, his gentle, but eager tone? I was sunk. “Okay,” I said. “Fine. We’re going out tomorrow?”

Valain nodded. “Mmmm. That’ll work.” He stood, carefully swaying to his feet. The thin layer of wetness that usually covered his body had thickened slightly in the heat. Usually it had only slightly more viscosity than water. Now I could see that it was thicker and it clung to him more than usual. It made me nervous.

“Come here,” I said, waving the wet cloth I was holding at him. “You should lie down for a while. I’ll help you out.” He looked at me with some surprise, but lay back on the floor and allowed me to run the cloth over his head.

The next day, Valain seemed much improved. He’d spent a while in the bath and that had perked him up again. He carried a load of water on his back and had loaded me up with a lot too, as well as some food. “I can’t carry you anymore,” he told me as we prepared to set out. “You’ll have to walk on your own.”

That made me a little bit nervous, I had to admit. I hadn’t exactly been under a strict exercise program and the small house really made it hard to move around a lot. Valain was much more prepared for long treks in the heat and he handled it a lot worse than I did. Still, I wasn’t going to just give up. I nodded. “That’s all right. I can handle it.”

Valain nodded and hopped out of the door, scaling the tree with ease. I followed, scaling with way less ease. Valain had to catch me when I missed a step and fell a few feet. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” I mumbled flushing with embarrassment. He placed me on the ground and we started walking.

It was not as bad as the humidity, that was something, at least. The air was barely damp and it was more of a baking, desiccating heat. I could feel myself start to sweat almost immediately. Even the ground was no longer a proper marsh. It wasn’t quite dry, either, though. The top had dried into a crust that stopped me from sinking into the swamp. I could still feel how the ground was wet and mucky beneath the crust, and it made me a little cautious about where I put my feet.

Valain had no issue with the ground at all. His enemy was the dry air. He panted with exertion after only a few minutes and his skin secreted more fluid, though it kept thickening as the water evaporated. His fins all were standing up, probably to release extra heat, but it didn’t seem to be helping much. Still, he kept going, which was pretty impressive.

Given my lack of physical ability and his difficulty with the heat, we kept pace with each other pretty well. It was slow going, but it was forward motion, and I was glad to be out of the house.

Gradually, I started to notice that there were a few animals creeping out of the undergrowth and peering at us from the trees. A small, fox-like animal crawled from the bushes and stared at us. A few fluttering critters darted between tree-branches, too fast for us to get a good look at them, but still there. Flowers also cropped up, appearing on the trees and the vines that crept across the ground. In fact, the flowers were so frequent that there were areas of the ground covered in fallen petals. It looked like a mad partier had blasted the ground with confetti.

The foliage grew thicker the further we walked into the forest. There weren’t bushes and grasses sprouting from the ground, but there were vines that stretched between the trees and a few fallen trees seemed to have been completely covered in all sorts of plants. The trees also seemed to be taking on the appearance of weeping willows, with their leaves hanging low over our heads. It kept the sun off our heads, which helped lower the sweltering heat.

When all the trees around us had changed to the willows, Valain stopped. The grove was covered more in shadow than sun and the hanging leaves created a sort of barrier around the edges of it, creating a little circle around us. Flowers bloomed across the branches. Valain padded to the center of the clearing and sat down.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the ground across from him. I sat and carefully swung my pack off my back. Valain put his on the ground and started rummaging through it. He passed me a bottle of water, then removed something wrapped in a cloth.

“What’s that?” I asked. I thought he’d only packed water in his bag. He smiled at me as he started to unwrap it.

It was several pale biscuits and a brown cakey substance that I couldn’t identify. There was also a small bottle of a translucent reddish substance. Valain placed the cloth on the ground and settled the items on top. It looked a little like a small picnic setting.

“Did you take me out here for a picnic?” I asked.

Valain gave a small, sheepish smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his head. “Well, yes. I suppose. I just thought it would be nice.” He looked at me hopefully. “I- do you like it?”

“It’s sweet,” I said. Valain’s ears twitched down a little. “Of course I like it, Valain. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“It wasn’t really trouble,” he said, relaxing with obvious relief. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to make some good food for a while. I figured this was as good as any.”

I turned my attention to the food. “What are they?”

“They’re vaya,” he said, pointing to the biscuits, “and calla,” he finished, pointing to the cake. “The bottle is hew syrup.”

Valain uncorked the bottle of syrup and picked up a vaya. He held the biscuit flat in his hand and drizzled a little bit of the syrup over it. It soaked into the vaya, leaving a shiny red trail over its surface. It seemed like Valain was drawing something with the trail, but I couldn’t tell what it was. It more resembled an odd hieroglyph than anything else. Valain held the vaya out to me.

I took it from him, but noticed that he didn’t seem interested in eating. He just watched me intently. I lowered the biscuit away from my mouth, looking hesitantly at him. “Everything okay?”

He blinked at me like he was coming out of a daze. “Yes, I’m all right.” He picked up a biscuit himself and poured a little bit of syrup over it, but he still seemed to be more interested in me eating than actually doing it himself. Then again, he’d made these, hadn’t he? He was probably worried about how I would like them. I smiled at him and took a bite from the vaya.

It was more savory than I anticipated. The syrup was pretty sweet, but the vaya was buttery and rich. It was the most delicious thing I’d had since I’d arrived on Valain’s planet.

“It’s good,” I said, smiling at him. He smiled back and took a small bite of his own vaya. He still watched me as I ate, only nibbling at his own food. I wondered if he was nervous. He looked a little nervous, tail twitching across the ground. “Are you all right?”

He looked like he was going to say something, then he shrugged. “I’m okay. It’s warm.” He rolled over to lie down on his stomach. “Are you enjoying this?”

“I’ve never really been on a picnic before,” I said. Valain’s ears pricked up with interest, then lowered again as understanding filled his face.

“Ah. I suppose it’s difficult to have a meal outside when you’re in space.” He frowned, ears drooping even further. “It seems difficult to live up in space.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason most people are planet-huggers. I don’t think flying’s so bad, though. The time slips are a little annoying.”

Valain tilted his head a little. “The what?”

“Time slips? They’re, uh.” I hesitated. “It’s like, um. Do you know anything about extra-dimensional travel?”

He looked blank. Great. I tried to summon up my vague memories from pilot’s class. I’d barely passed that part of the course and it was not helped by the fact that I’d forgotten ninety percent of what I’d learned the second I left on the last day.

“So, basically, there’s a bunch of different dimensions, right? We exist in the third dimension. But we use our ships to access the fourth dimension. The fourth dimension is curved and the third dimension is flat, so it takes a lot less time to cross the fourth dimension than the third one. But fourth dimensional travel screws with time. A trip that takes a minute for the pilot could take an hour for the rest of the universe.”Valain blinked at me slowly. I wasn’t sure if he was understanding or not. His expression was still rather blank. “It’s like this.” I took a large leaf from the ground and held it out toward him, flat. “See, if I was really small and I wanted to go from the tip of the leaf to the base, it would take a long time. But this leaf might look different in other dimensions. In the fourth dimension, maybe it’s folded like this.” I folded the leaf in half, so the tip was touching the base. “Now it’s a much shorter distance between where I am and where I want to go. I can just step right over. Basically, the ships make it so instead of having to move across this leaf…” I unfolded the leaf again. “…I can go across this leaf.” I refolded the leaf.

Valain blinked at me slowly. I wasn’t sure if he was understanding or not. His expression was still rather blank. “It’s like this.” I took a large leaf from the ground and held it out toward him, flat. “See, if I was really small and I wanted to go from the tip of the leaf to the base, it would take a long time. But this leaf might look different in other dimensions. In the fourth dimension, maybe it’s folded like this.” I folded the leaf in half, so the tip was touching the base. “Now it’s a much shorter distance between where I am and where I want to go. I can just step right over. Basically, the ships make it so instead of having to move across this leaf…” I unfolded the leaf again. “…I can go across this leaf.” I refolded the leaf.

“Okay,” Valain said slowly. “I understand that. And when you do that it feels like a minute to you but it really is an hour?”

“Kind of. It feels like a minute for me because it is a minute for me. It’s just an hour for everyone else in the universe. It’s something to do with relativity and the way time works in the fourth dimension.” I frowned at the leaf, playing with the stem. “Most pilots quit after, like, ten years or so. Eventually all that time slipping kind of catches up with you. You get this weird, ageless look and some people say that it causes hallucinations and gives you psychic powers or something. Precognition, maybe?”

Valain’s expression was still pretty neutral, but I could tell he was upset because all of his fins were sticking straight out. “How long were you doing it?”

“Uh, two years. And the first year was mostly local stuff, just between planets in a star system.” Valain’s fins started to flatten back down and I felt a rush to reassure him. “And it’s mostly a rumor anyway. I mean, I met come people who were doing it for a while and they seemed all right. It’s the lost ships that are really creepy.”

“Lost ships?” he repeated.

I nodded. His wide-eyed expression reminded me of the newbies in ports, being told stories of far space from experienced pilots. I tried to mimic their hypnotic, rhythmic tone. “So most of the time, the amount of time lost in a slip is an hour or two. Sometimes it’s more. Sometimes it’s a day. Sometimes it’s two days. Sometimes it’s three or four. And sometimes it’s weeks.” Valain’s ears pricked toward me. His expression was solemn. “After two weeks, a ship that never re-emerged from the fourth dimension gets listed as a ‘lost ship’. They’re ships that, for whatever reason, never managed to pop back out into proper space. Sometimes they reappear again. Sometimes they don’t.”

Valain stared at me. “No one knows why they disappear?” he asked.

“Uh, I mean, we have an idea? Most people think that they screw up the coordinates when they go into the fourth dimension and that messes up the time they emerge at. Other people think it’s kind of random, though. Or at least, there’s no way to predict it. That every time you go into the fourth dimension, you might just vanish.” We were silent for a few seconds. “Well, there’s kind of a theory that the ships didn’t vanish, or that they aren’t lost in the fourth dimension or anything. They just kind of popped out in the future, like thousands of years in the future. They just hit a particularly big time slip.”

Valain looked a little sick. “That seems terrifying! How were you okay with that potentially happening to you?”.

“There was a really low chance of that happening. Less than one in a million.” Valain still looked unsettled. “Hey, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. If I ever manage to get back up into space, they’ll probably give me an early retirement. It’s not going to happen to me.”

Despite my reassurances, Valain stayed close to me for the rest of the day. We lounged in the shade together, enjoying the mild relief from the heat. Little animals would crawl out of the bushes nearby and Valain would occasionally catch them and show them off to me. He was quick, far quicker than I was, even in the heat. Finally, as the sun started to set, Valain and I started to head back to the house.

It was obvious Valain was exhausted when we got back to the house, as he collapsed as soon as we entered. I could barely convince him to crawl into his bed and curl up there. When he was finally curled up and unwilling to move, I prepared to lie down next to him, but my attention was snagged by something on a counter.

There was a book lying there. Real books were pretty uncommon in space, but this book was pretty old too. It was worn and kind of shabby around the edges. I reached out and gently touched the edges of the book. The paper had been softened after years of use.

I peered at the pages of the book. It seemed to be a page of symbols and writing describing them, but I couldn’t read any of it. I squinted at the page, trying to see if I had picked anything up that could help me translate it.

One of the symbols the writing described was one I recognized. It was the one Valain had poured over the vaya he’d given me. I focused in on the writing next to it, but I was nothing I could make out. I glanced back at Valain, but he was dead asleep at that point. I looked back at the book of symbols. Even flipping through it didn’t clarify anything. I went and sat next to Valain, feeling a little confused.

What did it mean?

[luna-moon14-blog]

so yesterday~~

⚠️TW if needles trigger you this talks a lot about blood work i did today and also it brings up a wee bit of suicide attempts. so this is your trigger warning read at your own risk! ⚠️

i went to see my psychiatrist and he regularly orders blood work for two reasons. one my meds can cause my liver to mess up and it can mess up my blood count and the the different cells in my blood. and they have to regular check my liver for other reasons. i’ve had so many serious overdoes that i have a wee bit of liver damage but enough that if i take to much acetaminophen for pain i could go into liver failure and if i over one more time at all i will need a transplant. but i hadn’t done blood work since december so he went ahead and ordered blood work. and i hadn’t eaten yet so i just waited for my mom to come home so we could get it over with (i have to fast for my blood work) and we did i went to the hospital to get my blood work and i have very tiny veins so i had to chug a water before i went and they couldn’t find one vein. they said they could see them but they couldn’t feel them cause how tiny they were and they needed to be able to feel them to get a quicker and better poke. so they had me drink more water and then put a heading pad thing on the top of my hand for a while (that’s like the only place they have ever been able to poke me even for my IVs) and then after a while i had to hold it and she still couldn’t feel it but she tried to poke it anyways and had to dig in my hand a little and then FINALLY got it all that took 10 minutes. as we were leaving they called as said they forgot some test. so i had to go back and i did the heat pad thing again and then they tried the same spot just up a little bit and she said it was almost as if there’s was no blood in that vein. as she sat there for over 15 minutes digging in my hand trying to get blood and then she decided to go to my other hand. we did the heat pad again and the only slot she could see the vein was right next to my knuckle and it hurt SO BAD worse then the digging around but she got it and i was finally don’t after 20 minutes. so i was there over 30 minutes :( but when i got home my mom and dad went to dinner and i made my self half a cup of soup and a pickle then went to bed and that was like 60 cals. i kept waking up so hungry and in SO much pain and i just drank water and went back to sleep and did that like four times before i finally got up and made my self a little less then half an apple and and a sugar free jello. it was so much pain i for the most part didn’t care. but then as soon as i walked into my room i realized i was about to throw up so i ran to my bathroom and i did. i threw up several times and the last couple throw up we’re just water so i threw up everything i ate but i felt so much better and i went to bed. but i do do well with throwing up so all day today i’ve felt so weak and tired. thank you for reading all this if you did sorry if there’s any typos also 💓💓