#i felt nauseous through the whole book

[trujellyfish]

was also thinking abt how much i hated Looking for Alaska but like im so sorry john green lmfao bc that was probably kind of the point

the hype around it was so fucking stupid "oh you'll never see the end coming! what a twist!" like are you serious? the clearly depressed, self-destructive teenage girl wasn't saved by the power of Horny Teenage Boy and ended up killing herself??

like u were shocked??

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 22

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

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

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

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

It��s not calm. It’s just nothing. You’re not afraid, you’re not angry, or sad, or anything. Just empty. The tension clings to his touch as he draws away and you’re left just like that. Numb, but not quite. 

You turn onto your back as the soldier stands. You watch him in the strange haze of your existence. Your eyes close as the fire crackles around the fresh log he lays on it. You sink into the depths of your heedless mind. 

When you rouse again, it isn’t for long. He’s dressed in black. As always. But you know by his stance, by his armour and cowl, that he is on his way out. He pauses to pet your head before he goes. You don’t react. 

You shut your eyes again and let the sleep take over your addled body. The pain recedes to a dull thrum and your thoughts slow to a placid ripple. Hours unfurl in shadowy ribbons. When you wake again, you can sense the time passed. Close to a day. 

He is still gone. 

You get up, keeping your injured foot off the floor, and hop around in search of your keeper. You lean on the wall to keep your balance as you make your way through the cabin. You stop in the bedroom door and stare at the blood stain on the wooden floor. You quiver at the memory of the intruder’s fate. 

You retreat to the kitchen and sit for a while. Your appetite sours your stomach. You don’t know how as your thoughts threaten to make you nauseous.  

You flinch as the wind rattles the windows and whistles just outside those battered walls. The world slows and so do your thoughts, just enough to sort them. How did that man find you? How did he get past the traps? Is he the only one? No, you can’t believe that the villain who took you has only a single enemy. 

You get up and go to the fridge. There’s a covered plate with a note on it. ‘Eat’. You bring it to the table and remove the foil. Two hard-boiled eggs, a peeled and separated orange, a cup of cottage cheese, and whole wheat crackers. It’s not fancy or especially tasty but it’s more than enough. 

As you wash the plate, you notice the mug. Another note. ‘Drink’. There’s a packet of instant coffee tucked behind the paper torn from the same notebook he kept by the bed. 

You add boiling water to the mix and gratefully down the caffeine. The familiar taste is comforting. You stay at the table for a while, your eyes skimming the front room. The place is as bland as the meal. 

Then you see it. It wasn’t there before the chaos. You stand and hobble through the open doorway and across the room. You stop before the armchair and the stack on the seat. There’s an unopened package of pencils, a sharpener too; beneath, several puzzle books, another book of blank pages, and a rubik’s cube. 

Under all that, is something else. A dress. Yellow linen, with eyelets around the waist and short sleeves, and buttons down the front. The buttons are pearl and you can tell it is true vintage. 

You leave it on the chair and take a puzzle book. You open the box of pencils and sharpen it to a point. You open the pages and the smell of paper invades your nose. It’s nice. You love that smell. It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks just tasting that scent. 

You sit and do a puzzle. You stop as your cheeks ache. You’re smiling. Something so simple is the most amazing thing you’ve ever done. Just writing the letters. Knowing the answers. You close the book and hold it in your lap as your eyes glaze over. 

You sit hunched on the couch and sob. It could be the pain, it could be the horror of what you witnessed, it could be the terror of what’s to come, the isolation of this cabin, it is everything and anything. Your grief bubbles over and constricts your ribs to the point of breathlessness. You let it all out until you are spent and your cheeks are raw. 

You shakily set down the book on the side table and stand. You angle over to the chair on one foot and lift the dress. You look down at the dark shirt; his. You don’t even remember him putting it on you. 

You strip it off and pull on the dress. It smells like laundry detergent. It’s soft. It’s lovely. It makes you feel a little more human. 

You limp, touching only the toes of your wounded foot to the floor, and go into the bathroom. You can only see to just below your chest in the mirror. Your face and your hair are a disaster but you don’t care. The dress is nice. It’s cute. 

You just watch yourself as you run your hands up and down the fabric. You stay there until you can bear to stand no longer. You come back out, hopping again, but before you can reach the front room, there’s a clatter at the door. 

You cry out as your heart lurches. You search around for anything, something to defend yourself. What if it’s not him? What if it’s another villain? 

The door swings open but does not assuage your fears. It is the soldier but he is not himself. He has his cowl still in place and his body seems to steam as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His muscles are tense beneath the taut fabric, bulging in his armour. 

You cannot see his expression but you can imagine it by his posture. He marches forward mechanically and you whine as you throw up your hands. He grabs your head between his large hands and you struggle with him, dancing on your toes as you cry out in agony. 

“No, please,” you beg. 

That little bit of joy flies out the door and fades into the billowing winds. You push against his stomach as he tries to pull you closer. You ball one hand and beat on his chest as you strain to keep him from smothering you. 

“No, don’t! No, no, not like this,” you plead as you snake your hand up.  

You writhe in his grasp as you get a thumb under his cowl. You slide the strap from his chin and the mask shifts. You continue to push against him as you flip it up, getting it just above his mouth. You tear at it again and unveil his face. 

You look up at him as his eyes fall to you. His scar is a torturous shade of white as he clenches his jaw. His eyes are dilated and dark. Just like the first time he returned. Your insides quake at just the thought. 

He clutches at your dress and pulls you closer. You squeak and shakily press your hand to his cheek. You caress him with your fingertips as he crushes you again him, your arm folding between your bodies. You brush through his sweaty strands and tremble. 

“Please, be nice,” you quaver. “Be soft to me, soldier. Please.” 

He squeezes you until you can’t breathe. You flutter your fingers around his ear and whimper once more. Then he slackens his hold on you and unhooks his arm from your waist. His eyes clear and his hands rest lightly on your hips. 

He opens his mouth and outlines a word with his lips, ‘soft’. 

[bekaroth-reads]

Baldur’s Gate’s 3 Characters x Reader/Tav Misunderstanding

[This is basically the situation of, “As my partner-“ “Wait, we’re partners?!” Might add more characters later. Proof read but quickly. Sorry if there are mistakes]

Astarion- The two of you were planning out a way to get into a tomb that had some sort of artifact that Astarion insisted was important. “Important,” was, in fact, the only thing that he was using to describe it. This was something that was causing the most problems as you didn’t want to go through the danger of it all for something that might have been nothing more than entertainment for him. When you tried to ask him to give you more details, he snidely scolded, “Listen, as your partner-“

“I’m your partner?!” You interrupt before he could say more.

Immediately, he covered his mouth and his cheeks with his hand, embarrassment flooding in after what he had just said as he turned away. While he could usually recover from almost anything, this struck the line of being too intimate for him to handle. In fact, you were both so flustered and embarrassed from the whole thing that you had to push the planning of everything for the excursion at least a week out. It’s hard to plan adventures when you can’t even look the other person in the eye.

Gale- He thought that you were overworking yourself; and, if Gale Dekarios of all people thought someone was overworking, then it was pretty bad. Then again, you were important to him, so he was also inclined to mother-hen over everything you did. When he thought the time was right, he pulled you aside to gently scold, “I know this is very important. But, as your partner, I must insist-“

“We’re partners?!” You exclaim.

He felt awful as he sees this as him trying to force you into a relationship that you might not have wanted. And, given his history with Mystra, it makes him feel like he has taken on her role, and it makes him nauseous. You will need to take some time to get him to understand it was simply a misunderstanding and that you do want to have a relationship with him.

Raphael- He insisted on taking you to find, “better,” clothing. When you got over the initial insult of the indication that your current choice in clothes was bad, you questioned why he was so adamant on doing so.

“Because, I am a public figure. I cannot have my partner-“ He started to explain before you interrupted,

“I’m your partner?!”

This seemed to entertained him to no end. “Why of course, Little Mouse. Hurry along now.” He hummed as he gave you a tap on the nose before ushering your stunned self out the door.

Haarlep- The two of you finally had an evening to yourselves. They were sitting on the end of your bed in a soft nightshirt, reading a book. It wasn’t even that they were expressly interested in the book, but between all of the scheming with Raphael and succubus work, they couldn’t remember the last time that they had the chance to do something so simple as reading. They gave a contented sigh as they lied back, their horns bumping against your legs where you were sitting farther up on the bed. Without much thought, they sighed, “I am so glad that you are mine.”

“Wait! Are we… partners? Actual partners?” You question in surprise.

They put down their book and turned themselves to lie on their stomach so that they could look at you with gleaming eyes, your reaction seemingly tickling them.

“Well, of course! I’m never this relaxed with anyone but you.” They sat up a bit and motioned to what they had on. “I mean- just look at me! I even put clothes on for you! That’s not something that happens everyday, my sweet.”

Gortash- To say things were tense would be an understatement. Enver Gortash and you had tried to kill each other about a month ago, and you were both nearly successful. It had taken you these past three weeks to heal, and the whole time the both of you were sure the other was going to try to sweep in at any moment and finish the job. Or, you were, and it didn’t take too much imagination to see his situation as the same. You were both in a similar state when your respective parties had broken up your fight.

Now you found out that you would have to work with him publicly for a time. It wasn’t something that you were looking forward to, but it was necessary to get answers for certain things and create opportunities for your team. You were in the hall that this party was being held at; it was nothing fancy, no dancing, no meal- just a simple gathering for some of the upper class to speak with each other and perhaps have a few drinks. You were beyond surprised when Gortash connected eyes with you and instead of an angry or begrudging response, he greeted you with one of the brightest smiles you had ever seen on the man.

“There they are now! The person of the hour!” He walked over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. There were some compliments and coos of how darling you both looked together, and how you must have been a great match. Soon after the group walked away to give you two a few moments of privacy.

“You said that we were a couple?” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Of course. Because we are.” He whispered back as he leaned closer to purr into your ear, “We did almost kill each other after all.” Gortash gave you a peck on the cheek before moving you both to mingle with the other little groups of people around the room.

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Satoru Gojo [ch.05]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: 18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, mention of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, character death, nightmares

words: 5,2k

Notes: enjoy this last chapter, just know that the epilogue still needs to happen 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Your gaze was on the window, you had barely moved a muscle since the sun had risen. But it had been like that since your father read that letter. You didn't know how much time had passed, you had stopped counting, the only thing you knew was that summer was coming to an end. Was it September? You didn't know, nothing mattered to you anymore.

You knew Rose was in the room, despite everything she still came and took care of you. Every morning she was there, trying to cheer you up and make you smile again, to pick up one of your books, to go to the market with her.

The only time you got out of your bedroom was when Mr. Harrison visited. You felt nauseous when seeing him and when he talked about how excited he was to take you with him to his house and finally have an heir. You felt sick to your stomach, but you stood there in silence, feeling how your heart didn’t beat anymore.

“My lady…” Rose whispered. “You need to take the herbs.”

You turned your head and looked at Rose. “Don't you think that if there was a baby, that baby is no longer there?”

Rose grimaced and sat up on the bed. “I don't know, my lady. But your mother insists that she keep drinking it until you bleed again.” You just nodded and took the glass from her hands.

You felt the bitter taste pass through your throat and the unpleasant smell invade your nostrils. It was so unpleasant that your eyes watered and a gag shot up your throat. You closed your eyes tightly and swallowed.

“I know you don't want to hear this…” Rose whispered. “But the wedding is in three days.”

“You won’t come with me right.” You raised your knees and rested your forehead on them.

“No, my lady.” You could notice the anguish and sadness in her tone. “Mr. Harrison doesn't want anyone from the house to accompany you, he will provide you with maids in his house."

You closed your eyes and nodded. “You can leave now Rose.”

“My lady… please eat something.” She said walking towards the door.

You heard the door open and then close. You sighed heavily and lay back down on the bed, looking again at the blue sky outside. No matter how much you thought about Satoru, you had a hard time believing, you had a hard time accepting that everything had been a hoax. That you had been manipulated by him.

Maybe it was the fault of your heart, the fault of falling in love the way you did for that man with white hair and crystalline eyes. Maybe it was all your fault and you should never have given him your heart the way you gave it to him.

But his voice and his words echoed in your head.

Trust me.

We will live in a house by the sea, you will have your own library.

I don’t plan on hurting you.

His memory was fresh in your mind and the pain was intense.

You rolled over yourself and you cowered between the sheets, mulling over the matter. The letter talked about some documents, something about the nobles. Satoru told you about it, how your family and a few others had refused the king's reform proposal 20 years ago and had paid for it. And some time later Satoru's parents had been murdered and Satoru's brother had spent his entire life investigating to clarify the facts and they had taken him to your family.

There was something that didn't quite fit you in that whole matter and that is, if Satoru was thinking of betraying you from the beginning, why did he tell you the plan he had in the middle? Maybe he thought you were going to be extremely stupid not to say anything.

You shook your head and tried to remember the last encounter between the two of you.

“I told you.” He said with a smile. “Before you finish your second book I will be back.”

“I trust you.” You whispered.

“Just… believe me.”

Were those promises empty? You stood up from the bed and walked around your room, feeling your body aching and heavy.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Satoru knew something was happening. And that’s why he looked like that the last time you saw him.

Covering yourself with a thin jacket, you left the room and walked looking for a specific figure. If Rose was your most trusted person in that house, that person was the second most trusted.

When your eyes met his straight figure and his gaze looking straight ahead, you smiled and approached him.

“Nanami.” You whispered causing his head to turn in your direction.

“My lady.” He said, bowing his head subtly to show her respect.

“Nanami, I need your help. But first walk me to my room.” You turned around. “I don't want anyone to hear us.” You walked, feeling Nanami's footsteps on your back.

When you got to your room, you made sure that no one was in the hallway and you closed the door. You walked to the couch and looked at Nanami.

"I need you to do me a favor." Nanami nodded slightly. “I have a feeling that something happened to Duke Gojo and I would like you to check it out. You and Rose are the people I trust the most, which is why I want to entrust you with this mission.”

“I will gladly do it my lady.” He said bowing.

“But before you leave, my parents are gone, right?” Nanami nodded and you felt your heart accelerate at the idea that had been established in your mind. “I need you to accompany me to my father's office and watch the door while I look for something.”

“No problem my lady.” You smiled and thanked him.

Waiting for a while to pass, you and Nanami left the room, trying not to be seen by any curious eyes. As you stood in front of the door of your father's office, you felt your heart pound and your nerves begin to attack your body. You took a breath and looked at Nanami, who nodded giving you the signal to enter.

Nanami stayed outside, keeping watch and preventing anyone else from entering. You moved through the room quietly and carefully, and among the pile of papers and letters that were on the desk you began to search and read, wanting to find something, some clue that would indicate that Satoru had not lied to you, that there was something more behind all that.

You found two letters that caught your attention, one of them had a stamp that you didn't recognize and the other was a letter addressed to your parents. It was a letter from one of the servants informing your parents about how you had been having premarital relations with the duke. You crumpled the letter slightly and sighed, there was nothing you could do about it now.

You took the letter with the unknown seal and began to read, the letter was addressed to your parents and talked about the crown prince and how to change the balance in favor of the person who sent the letter.

“My lady.” Nanami called you. “I think it’s better if we leave.” You nodded.

With that letter in your hands, you left the office followed by Nanami's steps. You felt your heart racing, that letter could mean something. You knew that Satoru was a friend of the crown prince and that your parents had not disagreed with the king's reforms, so this could mean something. But that seal, you didn't know which house it belonged to, nor were the names known.

“Nanami.” You called him when you got to the room and, uncrumpling the letter, you showed it to him. “Do you know this seal?”

You could see how Nanami was stunned looking at the letter. “Was this in his father's office?” You nodded confused. “My lady, if this letter is found by the palace, the entire family will be condemned for treason.”

You opened your eyes surprised. "What? What do you mean?" Nanami sighed and pointed to the seal.

“The seal belongs to the king's brother, that is, to the uncle of the future king.” You looked at him confused, you had never heard of the current king having a brother. “You are young to remember, but the king had a little brother. He was sent into exile after he tried to assassinate the prince. The king took pity on him and did not kill him, he simply exiled him.” You opened your mouth in surprise.

“Did this person have anything to do with the event 20 years ago? Where several noble families opposed the king?” Nanami nodded and you sighed. “Nanami, I fear that the duke knew about this and that something has happened to him.” You looked at him. “Please find out.” Nanami nodded once again.

“I will leave right now my lady.” He bowed his head and left your room.

When the door closed and you were alone in your room again, you sat on your bed and put your hands to your face, terrified to think that something could have happened to Satoru and that your parents knew about it.

It was terrifying to think that Satoru could be… No, no. You shook those thoughts out of your head and tried to think positively. That Satoru hadn't betrayed you and that he would be fine. You just needed Nanami to return and confirm all your suspicions. And you prayed that this would happen before the wedding that would take place in three days.

Lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling, the night darken the room and the accumulated fatigue that you were carrying covered you peacefully. But it was not like that. That night you couldn't rest.

Nightmares tormented you. The image of a dead Satoru haunted you throughout the night, reflecting in your tired eyes every time you closed them. The dreams were vivid and unrelenting, showing you scenes of Satoru lying lifeless, his once vibrant presence reduced to an eerie stillness. You saw his bright blue eyes, usually full of mischief and warmth, now dull and empty. You watched as the confident smile faded, replaced by an expression of eternal peace that brought you no comfort.

You tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around your legs as you struggled to find a way out of the nightmare. Every time you woke up suddenly, your heart would race and your breathing would be difficult. The silence of the room was oppressive and the darkness suffocating, leaving you gasping for air with every breath you tried to take.

You shifted between the sheets when the first rays of the sun began to penetrate through the curtains. A new day began and in your mind and heart there was only the anguish of knowing Satoru's whereabouts and condition. You got out of bed and opened the window, letting the breeze fill the room and the smell of the sea occupy your nostrils.

“My lady?” Rose entered the room with a surprise look on her face.

“Rose…” You smiled at her. “Good morning.”

“My lady, how are you feeling?” She approached you and held your hands with care.

“I am…” You sighed. Not knowing what to respond.

“It’s okay my lady.” She tried to calm you down.

You sat down on your dresser and looked at her through the mirror. “I send Nanami to investigate the whereabouts of the duke.” Rose looked at you, intrigued to know more. “Rose, I think something happened to the duke and I think my parents have been involved.”

Rose swallowed and opened her eyes slightly. “My lady, are you sure?”

You nodded and clenched your fists. “If it's true... and what they did is discovered, the palace will kill us.”

“My lady”

“Rose, we must find some way to leave this place before the wedding, if Nanami does not arrive with news before.”

Rose nodded. “I will be with you my lady.”

You felt your chest fill and your eyes water as you realized you weren't alone. “Thank you Rose, thank you.”

“No problem my lady.” She gave you a warm smile. “But my lady…” You looked at her. “Your parents and Mr. Harrison will be arriving today.”

You sighed. “Alright.”

The morning and part of the afternoon passed faster than you would have liked. Anguish and uncertainty had established themselves in your body, they almost seemed like an extension of you, one that was dragging you down. Your hands were sweaty and your heart rate was fast, having to meet your parents and Mr. Harrison was like putting a noose around you. You were afraid but you wanted to be brave, even if it was for once in your life, you didn't want to tremble.

The carriage carrying your parents and Mr.Harrison arrived and now you looked at your reflection in the mirror while Rose brushed your hair. Your gaze was fixed on your face but at the same time not, you were lost in your own thoughts, trying to find something so that the wedding would be delayed or canceled.

“My lady…” Rose whispered as she let the brush down. “I have an idea that might help us win some time.”

You looked up and looked at Rose through the mirror. "Tell me." Rose leaned close to your ear and whispered her idea to you.

It was crazy but it would be a shock and Mr. Harrison would even want to cancel the wedding. You lightly laughed and looked at Rose.

"Thank you."

“I am here for you my lady.”

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed candlelight. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed chandeliers. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

The room was filled with the faint smell of old books and ink, a testament to the countless hours spent here studying and negotiating.

Your parents sat on the side of the desk, their expressions a mix of expectation and concern. Mr. Harrison was standing by the window, his back to you as he watched the darkening night. The silence in the room was oppressive, the weight of the impending conversation pressing down on you.

“Just two more days and we will all be family.” Your father proudly smiled.

“Yeah.” Mr. Harrison proudly sat on the chair. “Hopefully a baby will also come soon.” He looked at you and you felt nauseous.

You took a deep breath and stood up in your seat, trying to show a little confidence and strength. “Father, mother, my hand has already been asked for by another man.” You spoke without showing any hint of tremor.

You knew that talking about this in front of Mr. Harrison was not the right thing to do but you had to find some way to escape from this or the wedding would be delayed.

Your mother ground her teeth and said your name in a harsh, cutting tone. "Shut up."

“Darling.” Mr. Harrison called you, with that nickname that ok his lips sounded so disgusting. “Duke Gojo only came here and used you. You really want to marry that boy?”

You clenched your fists and clenched your teeth as you looked at the cynical smile that had spread across his face. Your blood boiled as the atmosphere in the office became increasingly overwhelming and cutting.

You wanted to get out of there but you couldn't, you had to delay that wedding. Or else, in two days you would be damned forever.

“Honey.” Your father spoke, with that false tone that you had already gotten used to hearing. “Mr. Harrison is right, don't you think about the damage that boy has done to us?”

Looking at him you wanted to laugh out of anger and ask your parents if they knew the damage they had caused to you for years and that Satoru had been the only one who had managed to make you feel alive.

Filling your lungs with air you spoke or rather screamed. “But daddy I love him!”

It had been years since you stopped calling your father that, but you knew that if you threw a tantrum in the middle of that place, your parents would be embarrassed and maybe, with luck, Mr. Harrison would put the wedding on hold.

You looked at their faces and could see how your mother was red with rage and your father clenched his teeth tightly.

“Well darling.�� Mr. Harrison spoke, cutting the tension in the air. “I’m sure you will grow to love me too.”

You bit your lip and the crazy idea that Rose had proposed crossed your mind. What else could you lose?

“I’m having his baby!” You said out loud.

“What?!” Your mother and father screamed with speechless looks on their faces.

Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Mr. Harrison, who had his mouth slightly open and his face, like your parents', was a poem.

“This…” Mr. Harrison began and slightly smirked. “This is humiliating.” He turned to look at your father. “Did you know?”

“Mr. Harrison, I…” Your father stuttered trying to find some words, but they all got stuck in his throat.

“You stupid bitch.” Your mother approached you and held your arm tightly, you narrowed your eyes, feeling his nails dig into your skin. "Didn't you take the herbs that the doctor prepared for you?"

“Yes mother, apparently they didn’t work.” You smirked.

“You stupid bitch.” She slapped you and your head turned to the side, leaving you breathless.

Stunned by the slap heard how your father tried to reason with Mr. Harrison and how your mother also joined in.

They weren’t hiding anything anymore, how that marriage was going to bring them a large amount of money and how Mr. Harrison was also going to support the king’s brother's return. You smile when you hear those words, it was the confirmation you needed that those letters were real and that most likely there were more.

You left the room and practically ran to your room. Your heart was thundering in your ears and your head hurt from the enormous pressure you felt. It was almost like you were going to pass out before you could get to your room.

Holding onto the doorknob you entered your room and leaned your forehead against the door once you closed it. Trying to make your heart calm down and air return to your lungs.

“My lady…” You heard Rose approaching you from behind.

“Rose I need a minute, but…” You began to talk.

“My lady.” You froze and turned yourself to look at the man that just talked.

“Nanami!” You said breathless and looking at him.

“My lady.” He looked at you, then at Rose and then back at you. He took a deep breath and then you heard his words. “Your suspicions about him were correct, Duke Gojo had an accident when he was heading back here. His carriage failed and he fell down a hillside, all I know is that the Duke is currently under the care of His Majesty the Crown Prince. But I don't know his condition."

When your father read Satoru's supposed letter your heart stopped, but at that same moment you felt like your heart was falling out of your chest. Your breathing accelerated and you began to feel your eyes stinging because of the tears that were accumulating.

“My lady.” Rose caught you when your legs gave out. “My lady, you need to breathe.”

We tried but it was like a foot was pressing on your chest and sinking you into the ground. You held Rose's hands and tried to speak. “We need to go…”

Rose looked at Nanami and they both nodded. “We will leave here as soon as possible, my lady.”

“The letter…” You whispered.

You had to take the letter with you and give it to the king or someone from the palace, you knew that this would mean the death of your parents but those two people were no longer your parents and you wanted to see them sink.

Rose grabbed your arm and the three of you left the room, heading towards the stable. You still felt your emotions on the surface, at any moment you felt like you would break but you shouldn't. You had to stay strong and leave that place and send that letter.

Taking the reins of your horse you raised your gaze and fixed it in front of you. Sighing heavily, you signaled to Nanami, telling him to leave.

Your body was so exhausted that you practically didn't remember much of the trip. You remember stopping to pick up Rose's husband, you remember Nanami telling you to ride with him, and you remember arriving at a lodge where you spent the night, but other than that, your memories were vague and confusing.

When you opened your eyes, you blinked repeatedly, taking in the light that filtered through that window. Rose was still asleep in the bed next to her. Sitting up carefully and quietly, you changed your clothes and left the room, meeting Nanami's figure guarding the door.

“Nanami.” You spoke with your voice still sleepy.

“My lady.” He greeted you with the same courtesy as always.

You chuckled and shook your head. “You don't need to continue behaving like this Nanami, I don't belong to that family anymore.” You smiled at him. “But my last proposal as your lady is that you accompany me to her majesty so I can deliver the letter to her.”

Nanami held your gaze and shook her head. “My lady, if I am still here serving you and accompanying you it is because I trust you completely and my loyalty is yours alone.”

“But…”

“I don't care if you never belong to the family again, I am faithful to you my lady.” He bowed. “And I will follow you.”

You looked at him stunned by the words he just said. “Nanami…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I will follow you and make sure you meet the duke once again.”

“Thank you…” You whispered, whipping away the tears that had gathered in your eyes. “How long do you think it will take us to get there?”

Nanami thought for a moment, thinking of the shortest and most feasible route for everyone. “Probably in two more days.” You nodded and smiled calmly.

“Good.” You said.

And so once you were all ready you left again, heading towards the capital. You were amazed with each new place you visited, with the people and the landscapes. It was the first time you traveled, since you had always been in your town and had never left there. You didn't know what would happen after delivering the letter and showing them the evidence that the king's brother was still plotting against the crown. If they would also condemn you or what would become of you. You did not know.

You also didn't know if you would be able to meet Satoru. Nanami had told you that he was in the capital, where the palace doctors were treating him but you didn't know if you would be able to see him, but you longed to see him, you longed to touch him again and feel his warmth.

When you crossed the wall that surrounded the capital you felt your heart begin to accelerate and when you began to enter the castle gate to have a reception with the king it accelerated even more. And standing there in front of the king and the prince, you felt like you could faint.

“So…” You began. “His majesty, I’m the only daughter of…” You said your family name and bowed. “I’m here to give you this letter that I found in my father’s office.” You held the letter in your hands. “I believe it’s extremely important for his majesty to know about this information and to take care of it.”

The king nodded and one of his guards took the letter from your hands and brought it to the king. He read it carefully and with a slight frown.

“You say you found this letter in your father's office?” You nodded. “You know what it means right?”

"Yes sir." You said with your eyes downcast.

“Why would you betray your family like that?” He wondered.

You clenched your fists and clenched your lips into a thin line. “Those people were not my family, my family is the ones who have accompanied and supported me on this journey and the man I am looking for.”

The king touched his chin and smiled and then looked at his son who nodded. “Thank you very much for this young lady, the crown will take care of it.”

The crown prince looked at you and smiled. "Follow me please." You looked at Rose and Nanami doubtfully and the prince, noticing it, turned to you. "Don't worry, you can trust me."

You nodded and followed his steps, tightly gripping the pendant you were wearing, trying to calm your nerves. Your eyes roamed every corner of the hallways you walked through, marveling at the details of the walls and ceilings, admiring the paintings of old monarchs that hung on the walls and the large windows that illuminated your entire path. It was like being inside one of your books, where the protagonist toured her spacious palace.

“It must have been a long trip, right?” The prince spoke again, exalting you a little.

“Uh… yeah a little.” You smiled.

“Well now you can rest here as much as you want, I'm welcome.” He smiled at you again and you smiled back. “Oh!” He stopped short in front of a large white door. "We have arrived." He said, taking the knob he opened the door.

His back blocked your view of what was in front of you so you couldn't see well what was inside.

“Look who came to see your injured ass.” The crown prince stepped aside and you finally saw what was in that room, who was in that room.

Your breathing stopped and your heart forgot how to beat when you saw him lying on that bed. His face had the occasional scar that seemed to be healing and his arm was completely bandaged. But it was there, he was there. Satoru was before you, he was alive.

“Angel…” He whispered with his blue eyes looking at you, unblinking.

And that nickname, that whisper was enough to break you down. Crying, you approached the bed and fell next to it.

“I thought…” You tried to speak but words were hard to pronounce.

“I’m so sorry my angel.” He held your hand. “Suguru give my future wife a chair or something!”

“Tsk.” You heard the crown prince. “You know I’m going to be the next king right?”

“And she is going to be my wife, so what?” Satoru replied.

“It’s okay, I…” You tried to speak.

“My lady, here you have a chair.” The crown prince smiled.

“Thank you, his majesty.” You bowed and sat down on the chair.

“I will leave the two of you alone.” The crown prince said and left the room.

“Angel…” Satoru called you.

“I though you died. I thought you left me, I…”

“I’m sorry.” He caressed your hair. “After going on that visit, I planned to take you with me to my house and finally get married. But well, the accident... it left me unconscious for several weeks and when I woke up your engagement to Mr. Harrison had become official and my condition was not the best." He sighed and squeezed your hand lightly. “I wanted to go there, get you out of that place and take you somewhere where I knew you would be happy but…” He touched his leg and smiled. “Suguru, the prince, did not allow me to do anything and I had to resign myself to knowing that the love of my life was not going to be able to be happy.”

You grabbed his hand in your hands and looked into his eyes. “But now I can be happy.” Satoru smiled.

“I didn't tell you at the time and when the accident happened my last thought was how sorry I was for not having told you but I love you my angel. I love you." He said and cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

You closed your eyes, enjoying that kiss that you had longed for so much and you let yourself be enveloped by all the love and affection that Satoru was emanating at that moment.

You had believed that you would never taste those kisses again, that you would never again feel the soft touch of his skin against yours. But there you were, enjoying the love you both felt for each other.

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Satoru…” He hummed in your ear. “Your brother was right.” You looked at him. “I’m sorry my parents were behind your parents death and also behind your…”

“Hey angel.” He made you look at him. “None of that was your fault, you are not like your parents. And soon you will be a Gojo.”

His kiss made all the storms disappear from your heart, and calm was restored, allowing your heart to beat again with serenity and tranquility.

The tumultuous waves of doubt and fear that had threatened to engulf you subsided and were replaced by a deep sense of peace. Her touch, gentle, felt like a soothing balm for a wound you didn't know was so deep. It was as if, in that moment, all the chaos and uncertainty that had plagued you dissolved, leaving only the clear, steady rhythm of love.

Satoru broke the kiss and caressed your face. “Suguru told me that before you ran away from home, Mr. Harrison had called off the engagement or proposed. What happened?"

You smiled slightly. “I told them I was having your baby.” Satoru opened his eyes. “No I'm not.” You clarified. “But you should have seen their faces.”

"I would have loved it." Satoru smiled. “But next time it could be true.” He whispered.

You turned your face. “You must recover first.” You said.

“Angel, we can do a lot of things while we wait for me to recover.” He kissed your shoulder. “A lot of new things you still don’t know.”

You turned your face to look back at him. “Like what?” You had been tempted and Satoru knew it, which is why that smile that had captivated you from the beginning appeared on his face.

Fin

Notes: I can’t believe BDILH is over (the epilogue still needs to happen but still) 😭. The fact that this short series started as a Mikasa one shot, then turned into a dark romance with Sukuna but it ended up being a Gojo short fic bc I’m such a Gojo sucker… But thank you everyone for the likes, the comments and the love.

Also sorry bc this final didn’t have much angel x Satoru but the epilogue will be fully focus on them and just them and it will be 4-5k. But the main story needed a conclusion and didn’t want to extend the chapter too much. I’m quite satisfied with the result and I hope everyone enjoyed it ❤️

— comment if you want to be tagged in the final part

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @satoracyxys @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08 @tttttttf @crybabytoru @fccxxxcvvx @augustine13028 @alwaysfreakingout

[chrisevansleftpeck]

Chlorine Kisses

Word Count: 1.3k

Content Warnings: da team enjoying some drinkies, emily prentiss and derek morgans thirsty comments, and kisses ofc

the saga of spencer reid kissing women in pools continues

You didn’t really swim a whole lot. You never swam, actually, but Rossi and Krystall had just gotten a big pool installed in their backyard and Rossi wanted to throw a little party to “break in” the pool. 

You were nervous for two reasons. For one, social gatherings in general weren’t your thing. Secondly, you’d be in a bathing suit, exposed for all to see. Every scar, bump, and bruise you’d gotten from a case or your childhood would be on display. The thought of anyone seeing your body that clearly made you nauseous. 

You actually didn’t own a bathing suit and had to stop by Prentiss’ apartment before the party to grab one from her. You crossed your fingers it wouldn’t be a bikini. But of course it was.

With a shameful twirl, you exited Prentiss’ bathroom with the bikini on. It was white with cherries on it- no doubt a tribute to Emily’s raging lesbianism- but it fit you nicely and was actually quite flattering. Still though, uncomfortable. 

“You know I would never lie to you, y/n. Your tits look great in that.” You laughed shyly at Emily’s comment, pulling your cover-up t-shirt and shorts back over the bikini. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow. I know it’s last minute.” You said, grabbing your phone and car keys from off of Emily’s kitchen counter. 

“Of course, thanks for driving me.” Prentiss said, walking the two of you to your car. You got in the driver’s seat as Emily slid into your passenger seat. You fired up your car, then reversed it, pulling out of the apartment complex’s garage and driving to Rossi’s. 

It was daunting, seeing that people were already in the pool. You thought- hoped- that maybe there’d be a window of time where everyone would hang out around the mini bar first or something. But no, everyone just carried their drink over to the pool. Almost everyone- but not Spencer. 

Prentiss was quick to lose her cover-up, joining everyone in the pool, but you decided to buy yourself some time by talking to Spencer. He was stretched out on one of the poolside lounging chairs with a book in his hands. He always used one finger to trace what words he was reading through so quickly. He looked cute so focused. He also looked really great in swim trunks, however his shirt still remained.

It didn’t take him long to notice you looming over him. He peeked up at you with a puzzled smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You replied, unsure how to break the awkward staring you’d begun. “I didn’t know you owned normal t-shirts.” You said, pointing at the gray t-shirt Spencer wore.

Spencer looked down at his t-shirt quickly, smiling. It felt weird to him too. “It’s a hand-me-down from Morgan. He gives me some of his old stuff sometimes. He says I need to ‘expand my closet’.” 

You laughed, thinking about his regular scarves and sweater-vests. “I like your style. Not- not that this is bad- just unusual. You look good- normal- now. Yeah, you look like normal-good.” You rambled on to no end. Now was about the time for you to leave. You felt gross, like you were all over Spencer. 

Spencer only looked down at his book and laughed a little. “You look pretty- um, good. Always. Not like- but like you always never look bad.” You decided to register this comment as a compliment once you say Spencer’s cheeks blush. He was nervous, maybe? He liked you? No, he just liked your clothes. You just wondered if he’d still feel that way when he witnessed the embarrassment that was your bikini. It was cute, sure, but very not you. 

“Get in here, you two!” Penelope yelled from the pool with some sort of fruity drink in a glass decorated with an orange wedge and salted rim. 

Spencer laughed, throwing his head back in contest, then gave in, placing his book down on the lounging chair. He peeled off his shirt casually. You could tell it made him uncomfortable but you could also tell that nobody cared. That gave you some hope- maybe nobody would care about how you looked either. 

You did however, wait to change until Spencer was done because you were….distracted to say the least. “You going in?” Spencer asked, making it sound like an option as if Penelope and Emily weren’t staring you down. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Not much of a choice.” You and Spencer smiled, looking down at the girls taunting you from the water. You did the same as Spencer, removing your shirt then your shorts and casting them aside on a separate chair. You noticed how pink his neck and chest got seeing your body for the first time, really.

Morgan made a whistle as you and Spence walked over to the pool’s edge. “Pretty. Boy. I think pretty girl’s got you beat today.” 

Emily nudged Morgan, “Shut up!” She rolled her eyes. 

You faked a smile through your nervousness as you waded into the pool, Spencer following behind you. Sure the water still felt cold on you, but you couldn’t wait to be submerged up to your waist- to cover up some of you. 

You finally made it beside Penelope, Spencer standing beside Derek. Everybody lounged in the pool with their drinks until the sun began to set. As the hours had ticked away, more and more of the team filed inside, drying themselves off and beginning cooking Rossi’s famous spaghetti. You and Spencer, given you two began swimming the latest, were the last remaining in the water. 

It was really quiet at first because of how painfully obvious it was that you both really really liked each other. But conversation started and things became easier. “You any good at swimming?” You asked Spencer, splashing some water over your shoulders to keep yourself warm. 

“No, no, no. I’m not a big fan. I do admire that Rossi had us swim before eating though. You know- there’s not really actually any scientific research that proves or says you should eat before or after swimming. For me, it’s more of a personal preference.” Spencer spun off into a little tangent. You listened, of course, but you also couldn’t help but laugh. He talked with his hands still, even under water. “What?”

“Nothing, you just- you just talking with your hands still.” You poked his hand with your finger beneath the water. To you it felt like a spark. Like metal scraping across a blade- a hot, fiery spark. His little touches always felt that way. 

Spencer seemed to notice it too because he had no response to your joke. “Um, it’s dark.” He coughed under his breath. 

“Yeah.” You hung your head low, staring down at your feet through the well-lit pool. “Sorry.” You whispered. 

Spencer’s brows furrowed. “Why?” 

“I didn’t mean to make things awkward.” You replied just above a whisper, avoiding eye contact. “I know you don’t like it when people touch your hands.” 

Spencer cleared his throat, maybe even subconsciously moving closer to you. “I don’t really mind when you do.”

You finally dared to look up. He was pretty and tall, and the tips of his hair were curling from the water. “Oh.” You whispered, then made a dangerous reach for his hand under the water. He almost shuddered at the unfamiliar touch. “This okay?”

Spencer nodded, for some reason pulling your hand towards him and you with it. Spencer pulled you close to him, one hand in yours and the other tilting your face up to him. Your bodies were pressed up against each other like fitting puzzle pieces as you kissed. It was soft and it was slow. You soaked up every moment of your lips on his, his hand on your neck and your hand lightly touching his waist. 

“You two!” Rossi bitched from behind you, causing you and Spencer to swim apart from each other. “Now I have to change the pool water because two naughty kids were making out in my brand new pool.” Rossi complained but with a wide smile.

He’d waited a long time to see you two together. You’d waited a long time to see you two together.

[tbgblr2]

Giving birth the au natural way

This is a reworking of a roleplay I had recently with @allkindsofpreg

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed working on it :)

---

Our midwife was surprisingly agreeable. Which was a shock… first time, clueless parents being left to their own devices to bring forth a baby wasn’t exactly many couples idea of a good time, but for us, we were prepared and ready. We much preferred our own company as much as anyone else’s, and let’s be honest, we find we can be ourselves more when we don’t have a room of people watching us. So we booked the retreat our midwife recommended to us. 2 houses in an area of nothingness, one for us, one for her. We paid through the nose to book them for 2 weeks but we had to be sure so we booked 1 week either side of your due date. We’d spent a week here getting set up when early morning came on your due date accompanied by some mild, but noticeable cramping. A text to the midwife, and a reply saying she was on her way - but if we didn’t need her just let her know when the baby was born and she’d come and do the medical checks.

You swallowed a big gulp of fresh woodland air as you stood on the patio area, the weather thankfully warm enough to not need to wrap up. You were barefoot and wearing a light top and shorts set that you had been sleeping in - by rights should still be sleeping in - but the cramps were getting you excited - you’d waited 9 months for this moment.

You gathered up the hem of your top to rest on top of the impressive expanse of your stomach. The muscles there tightened again and, closing your eyes, leaning against the doorframe. The gentle breeze felt cool against your flushed skin. You pressed a hand to the spot you could feel our little one kicking out against.

“I know, it’s not comfortable for you either, is it?” Another kick in response confirmed it and you smiled. “Well it won’t be long now.” Hopefully, anyway.

You wandered back in the house to scour the kitchen for some light breakfast— you were going to need the energy later. You were just about to pour a glass of orange juice when you felt my arms slide around your pregnancy-expanded waist, my body moulding around your back. You leaned back into me and rested your head against my shoulder. “You should go back to bed,” you mumbled, but I made no move to let you go. “Might be a while before we get another chance.”

“I heard you correctly earlier, and I’ll be damned if you think I’m missing any of this” I say, kissing the back of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. I release off you and fill the coffee machine and set it to brew “though I suspect I might need this” I say with a grin.

I walk to the door you were recently outside of and look out to the sunrise just starting to poke above the horizon.

“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day to watch a beautiful woman do something beautiful with our baby”

The smell of freshly brewed coffee brought with it a longing. Technically it was fine for you to have a cup, but the nerves were already starting to build and the whole point of coming out here was to keep everything calm and peaceful. Besides, the baby didn’t seem to like it and nauseous was the last thing you wanted to be right now. You just decided to stick with toast and juice.

By the time you had finished preparing your food, the coffee was finished also, so you poured some into a campfire mug and joined me on the patio.

“I’m glad we’re doing this here,” you said, handing over the cup and taking in the view with me. You placed down your plate, and hands now free, you placed them at your hips and arched backward, pulling your shoulder blades together and stretching your lower back. It made your belly stick out even more and caused your shirt to ride up about halfway, getting stuck there even when you straightened back up. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What? You find this sexy?” you asked, rocking your hips and rolling your huge tummy around in a little mock seductive dance. “Enjoy it now, before it’s gone!”

I moved around in front of you, my hands clasping around the belly, warm to the touch. I can’t help but smile. “I’ll enjoy it as much as I can… then the next… then the next one after that” I punctuated each statement with a kiss. Suddenly I feel your belly tense and you betray the moment with a slight wince “was that a contraction?” I ask.

“Mmm,” you hummed in confirmation, leaning into my touch and letting out a slow breath, your hands finding purchase on my forearms. This one held on a bit longer, sharpening at its peak, and your grip tightened considerably— your anchor as the pain washed over you. Your stance widened, your knees bend as I supported you and coached you to sway in time with your breaths. Even when it passed you kept your hold on me, looking into the distance and laughing a little breathlessly.

“I guess they started last night,” you admitted, a little sheepishly. “But it was the same as I’d been feeling for weeks now and, I don’t know, I guess I thought labor would feel… different somehow. But they’re definitely closer together now. And stronger.” The aftershocks of that last cramp still twinged and tugged. “So I guess todays the day?”

“We can only hope” I say with a smile. My phone buzzes with a text, I pick it up and read it - it’s from the midwife. She’s texting to say she just arrived and she was going to get bedded down and for us to ring her in case she’s needed - she’d keep her phone on loud so it would wake her. I casually comment that she’s made good time but not really surprising considering the time of day it is.

We hold each other close looking out over the brightening morning.

“Want to go for a walk?” I enquire, “might help get things established? I’ll be nice and even help you get your shoes and socks on!”

Considering you hadn’t been able to reach your feet for some time now, you gladly accept my offer. Grabbing some stretchy leggings and a t-shirt from the dresser, your gaze lingers on the little stack of newborn onesies folded up on top - you give your tummy a little pat—it’s hard to believe that soon there’s going to be a whole new person in the world. You admit you’re going to miss this, the feeling of having someone growing inside me, but you suspect you won’t have to miss it for long. We want a big family.

We start out along the same path we’ve been walking every morning, but only barely make it past the tree line when another contraction hits. You try to walk through it at first, but of course I notice and suggest we take a rest and remind me that this is why we’re here—it’s not a race, we’re not trying to force anything, we’re just going to listen and respond and let it happen.

After an hour, your clothes are stuck moulded to your skin, your hips are aching, and we’re still only halfway through the loop. “This is a lot harder than it was yesterday,” you say, still slightly hunched and out of breath from the latest contraction.

I stop and rub your back, the feeling eliciting a groan of appreciation from you, I then say “come on let’s do the thing”

You smile knowing what I mean. You stretch out, straightening your back as I come in behind you. Reaching around and crossing my hands under your belly I pull up relieving the pressure on your back and hips immensely. Your sigh of relief was glorious. We stood there for a good minute just rocking side to side in the strange form of embrace until you reach down and grab at my hand. The next contraction was building, and I could feel everything in your belly between my fingers. You grunt as the feeling builds, gripping my forearm more and more. The feeling doesn’t last long, 30 seconds at most, but it had only been around 10 minutes since your last one - you were keeping track. They were definitely speeding up.

As your grip lessens on my arm signalling the end of the pain I lower your belly and gradually let go, accompanied by a ‘whump’ sound expelled from you as you took back over the weight.

Still behind you I wrap my arms in the gap between your breasts and the top of your belly hugging you close.

I whisper close to your ear, something about the early morning and complete quiet not wanting me to speak too loudly as I say “sorry baby, I had to… let it go”

Of course the last words were said in a song-song tone as you groaned - nothing to do with the contractions this time. I apologise with “so I started the dad jokes a little bit early.”

You feel a little roll and then a kick up somewhere near your rib cage. “See? Even the baby is protesting,” you whine, rubbing at the tender spot. Alright, maybe you’re a little cranky at having to bear the full weight of gravity again. But it gives you an idea. “Lake?” you suggest.

It’s another two contractions before we get to the clearing, but it’s so worth it. The lake is surrounded by mountains on one side, forest on the other, and the water is crystal clear and still quite cold. I give you a skeptical look, but you’re determined. “It’s warming up now that the sun’s up,” you reason. “Or maybe we’ll just have to huddle together for warmth,” you suggest with a waggle of your eyebrows, without hesitation you pull off your shirt and kick off the shoes you would not be able to put back on by yourself. The leggings are too clingy and stuck to bother trying to take off, so they’re all you’re wearing as you begin to wade into the fresh water.

You take a step in and all the air leaves my lungs in one whoosh. It. Is. Cold. But now here you are, topless, one foot in the water, back straining, and another contraction starting with no feasible form of relief in sight. Suddenly the pressure spikes and this baby feels so heavy pressing down inside you. You let out some noise of surprise or discomfort and I'm there in an instant.

I wade into the water throwing off my top and tossing it into the rough area where your pile of clothes are, my own trousers and shoes still on and soaked through.

“Babe!” you call, though I’m already there—a question, a plea.

I grab hold of your hand as you squeeze for all you’re worth, the pain of the contraction evident. You’re clearly having a difficult time as you let out a low pitched moan as your grip tightens and tightens against my hand. Suddenly you release, gasping a breath out.

“You OK?” I enquire. You nod, not able to speak. A few seconds later you manage “that was a rough one, hope there aren’t too many like that” with a weak smile.

I return the smile to you as your hands release mine and you rub them over my body. “My big strong hero diving into the water to save his damsel in distress”

I gulp, noticing the chilled water having an obvious effect on your nipples, they had already gotten big and dark with the onset of your milk coming in, and now they poked out almost as long as a finger to the first knuckle.

You follow my eyes and see where I have spotted.

“Nipple stimulation is good to bring on contractions you know” you purr at me.

I don’t need to be told twice my hands paw at your breasts, your voice betraying a giggle as I move to the nipples, water from the lake leaving them slippery as my fingers tug and squeeze them. Your hands move from my body to both sides of your belly as you groan - at first with the pleasure of my touch then finally with the effects of another contraction starting its journey on you.

“I guess it works,” you note before the full force of the contraction takes hold, grabbing onto my shoulders and resting your forehead against mine, breathing in and out slowly along with me as the pain crests. It still hurts, but at least the water is taking off some of the pressure and you’re able to stay present through the whole thing.

When it’s over, you slide your hands down my arms and position me hands back on your breasts. “I think we’re getting the hang of this whole ‘labour’ thing,” you say with a grin as I continue my previous ministrations. You initiate a kiss and push yourself deeper into my grasp and chuckle as you’re brought up short by the belly between us.

Your hands find their way to my chest, my hips, then dip down beneath the waistband of my pants. It’s not exactly an ideal temperature for this, but you still hear my grunts of pleasure as you stroke, massage and tug.

We pause for another contraction—your grip moving a safe distance away from anything particularly sensitive—and you bury your face into the crook of my neck with a groan. The vocalizations help, a long, sustained note that rises in volume, but breaks when the contraction becomes too much and you switch to releasing short puffs of air. When you’re finally able to take a full breath again, you lift your head and look into my eyes. “Maybe we should start heading back.”

“You’re the boss, princess” I grin as I follow you out of the water, watching it drain off down your hips and ass as you get closer and closer to the edge. You give a little wiggle as you feel my hand pressed against your soaked through bottoms making contact with your ass cheek and I’m reminded of the caress you gave me in the water, my own length stiffening at the thought once again. We finally reach the waters edge and find a tree stump for you to sit on as I dry off what I can of your feet using my top before sliding your shoes back on again. I give you a hand putting your own top on as I pull on my own - now wet and sticking to my body, as I give you a hand up and we start our slow, squelching walk back to the cabin.

“Right now I want a nice warm shower” I say, you nod as another contraction picks up. You’re now at the point where you’re coping by vocalising, you stop moving as the contraction is upon you. You groan something in between your moans about the head feeling so low and how much your hips hurt that I come in behind you and squeeze my hands tight against your hips, pressing to try and help.

The force of my hands adds a nice bit of respite for your overtaxed back and pelvis, but it does little to counter the powerful pressure barrelling down in your core. You can’t speak, can’t stand up

straight, can’t focus on anything besides the air moving in and out of your lungs, and even that is a struggle.

Between the increasingly frequent contractions and your slow walk turning into an even slower waddle, the trip back from the lake takes at least twice as long as it did to get there. Our destination is in sight when another contraction hits and you grab onto my forearms—it’s a routine by this point—and bend your knees, getting into a gentle squat in front of you. Everything feels swollen and tight and impossibly full as your womb compresses. You start to wonder if your water breaking would relieve some of that painful tension.

Finally, we make it back and the shower is big enough for a party, so there’s easily enough room for both of us and the birthing ball we’d brought. I start the water, help strip you out of your wet and sticky clothes, and get you situated on the ball before getting myself ready and joining you in there. The warmth—and my hands—soothe your tight muscles as you roll your hips in gentle circles on the ball. It’s almost as if you can feel the head moving down with the force of each contraction and as a result you keep your legs splayed wide. More than once you catch my eyes lingering on your feminine curves. With more than a little assistance, you get up and have me take your seat on the ball; then you sit on my lap facing me, your belly pressing into me, your legs wrapped around mine in invitation.

The slippery ball coupled with the slippery occupants take a lot of my concentration to stay stable as you climb onto my lap, but wrapping your arms around the back of my neck helps keep us upright.

Your belly presses tight against me as you continue to writhe and wriggle as you huff and pant in my ear, your forehead pressed against mine.

I find myself getting hard at the closeness of your body and you react to the feel of the bulge pressing against the underside of your belly by rocking back and forth teasing both it and me.

My hands grip behind your back as you writhe, as I manage to get what little purchase I can on your slippery skin.

The contraction snuck up on you, your mind elsewhere as the all too familiar tightening ramped up, causing you to lean back and grip hard on my shoulders. You suddenly squeal as you feel a release. Whilst the obvious splash was lost in the water running within the shower, your waters had broken, and the sudden realisation that the baby’s head is just right on the cusp of appearing at your lips has you start shaking with anxiety, knowing you’re getting closer to having to push.

“Oh!” Even though you’ve been expecting it, waiting for it, the sudden release still takes you by surprise. Without the cushion of the amniotic sac the head descends quickly and violently, locking into your canal like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “Ohhh,” the exclamation quickly turns into a groan—the new wave of pressure that comes with this contraction is intense and your hand automatically reaches between your legs. There’s nothing there to touch yet, but you swear it feels like the baby is about to fall right out of you.

You slide off my lap and settle into a deep squat. Your breaths are coming in short, frantic gasps and the water running down your face makes it difficult to take in air, so you pitch forward onto your knees, resting your crossed forearms on my thighs and burying your head between my knees. Any other time the gesture would be most salacious, but right now all you want is to get through this contraction without drowning. I do my best to pull your hair back and shield you from the shower head, you manage to pant and curse your way through the worst of it.

You say we need to get out of here, to dry off and get to wherever we want to be for the birth, but even when it’s over you can’t bring yourself to unfurl from your current position. I presume you must be comfortable, as we stay this way for several seemingly back-to-back contractions that leave you trembling, nauseous and a little bit lightheaded. The weight in your hips seems to keep you anchored to the ground.

You recall reading about what labour would be like, how difficult and painful and relentless the transition stage usually is, but some part of you thought that preparing for it would make you more equipped to handle it. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admit, though you’re not sure I can hear your muffled voice over the water spray. Not that you have any choice.

Maybe I did hear you, or maybe I just know you well enough to sense that you need to change positions, because before you realise, the water is shut off and you’re on your feet, wrapped in an oversized towel and my embrace.

I assist you out of the shower and we plod slowly and deliberately step by step into the main living room. Your walking stance still has a widespread gait, almost like you had stepped out of a long day in the saddle, but I know it’s just subconscious with you trying to relieve the pressure on your hips.

I lead you forward to the sofa, where I guide your hands to the armrests on one side. You grab hold and drop down into a partial squat, bouncing a little on your thighs. "Let me get something down here, don’t want to make too much of a mess" I grin, though I think the expression is lost on you, entirely focusing on the weight in your pelvis.

I stroke your back and give it a rub as I step away and grab a few more towels, placing them on the seat and around in front of it. I suspect both the wooden floor, and the faux leather seats would wipe up fine, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

I hear a groan coming from you and look up to see you swaying your hips in a figure eight pattern. You look up and lock eyes with me, you give me a quick smile as if to say that you're OK, and I return the grin with "It's all going as it should baby, you're doing really well. I love you and you're doing a wonderful job."

You suddenly squat down low, using the chair arm as support, roaring as you dip down. I scramble to the side to make sure that there's nothing obvious happening spying a long trail of mucus dripping onto the floor from your crotch. I lift the back of the towel up, exposing your ass as you manage a moment of strained speech "can you see anything?"

"Sorry baby, no." I don’t mention the long trail of slime which I wipe off with the towel. There's no obvious bulging around your lips however. You give a dejected sigh. "I think you were doing really well there when you were using gravity to help, so lets get back to what we were doing in the shower, but maybe a little more upright?"

You nod, and let me take hold of you as I lead you around to the seat. I sit down on it, still noticeably dripping water from the shower from me, and you stand in front of me as I lower myself down. You then drop down into a squat between my legs, your belly hanging low almost touching the ground you squat is that deep - you use my knees and thighs as support. My hands reach over to your shoulders and squeeze as you turn your head slightly and nuzzle into my left hand. The brief moment of calm is lost when the next contraction picks up though, and you're soon roaring out loud once more.

You want to push, but know the urge is coming more from your head than your body. You catch yourself wishing for this to just be over and take a moment to refocus on the present moment. As the next contraction builds, you close your eyes and let your body do what it wants, what it needs.

Your grip on my thighs tightens, concentrating the tension there to allow the rest of your body to relax. Your hips are still restless but keeping them open feels right, so you continue to sway in your deep squat, shifting your weight as your knees swing left, and right, left, and right. You focus the sounds leaving your mouth into one long, sustained hum, the tone increasing in volume and pitch as the pressure intensifies. The pain starts deep in your core and radiates outward, wrapping around your butt, thighs and creeping up your spine and up to your shoulders.

You throw your head back suddenly, arching your back and pulling up against gravity’s strong downward force. The noises in your throat shift to a series of primal whining moans – your whole body trembles as it attempts to deal with the shocks of pain centralized in your core. Just when you think you will surely be split in two, it dulls just enough for you to find my eyes, my focus, my excitement and then you remember… yes, you’re excited too.

I stand with you in the small breaks between contractions to give your knees a break, but the breaks get smaller and smaller and soon there’s not even enough time to change positions before another one is upon you. You don’t want to be stuck in that position, so instead you follow me to a seated spot on the couch. It’s deep enough so that you can settle between my legs and rest your back up against me. I pepper kisses along the line of your shoulder and up your neck as you twist your head so I can place one on your lips. My hands are molded to your generous swell, you placing yours over the top of them, interlocking our fingers as another relentless wave begins.

You pant, moan and writhe through another two contractions before the pressure in your ass and back becomes unbearable - your tailbone feeling like it’s going to snap. You know it must be the baby’s head moving down. Time must be passing, but you don’t know how long it is before the frenzied onslaught of contractions begins to slow and you feel like you can finally take a breath again.

You stand up and sit on my knee, pivoting in the position to swing one of your legs over my thigh, turning yourself sideways so that you can look up at me.

“Hi,” you say, and giggle as I give your bum an affectionate little squeeze. “I think it’s time to decide…” you pause, suddenly filled with nervous energy. I pull you in close, rub your tummy and wait for you to continue. The next contraction confirms it—the feeling, the urge that’s been building slowly until this moment when it now seems so obvious—you try to get the words out but you’re quickly tensed and grunting, trying your best not to be completely consumed by it.

“Need to decide—“ a quick huff, “where I’m going—“ a groan, “hnngh, to start pushing!” you finally yell, slamming backward into me and panting so quickly and heavily that it looks like you’re shaking. One of my hands grabs fiercely onto yours. The other disappears between your legs.

My mind recalls the bits of training and insight given to us by the midwife after we told her we wanted to go it alone. She was supportive, but of course insisted that she was nearby in case anything went wrong. She showed us a demonstration of dilation, and let me practice on a training dummy to see what the different stages felt like, so I was prepared. She explained it was often normal to feel like you need to push too early, so you were pushing against your own muscles rather than pushing into an open hole… it wasn't recommended.

My fingers entered into you, resulting in a small gasp. I immediately noticed how wet your passage was, presumably from the waters breaking, but thankfully I had no issue with snaking my fingers deeper and deeper. What shocked me first was how close to the entrance your cervix was - we had tested early in the pregnancy to see how deep I needed to feel back there, and to be blunt, it was painful pressing in that hard.

I felt the head at that point, my finger tracing around the circle of the entrance, a definite difference in texture between your muscles and the head of the baby. My face beamed. You looked at me quizzically. I replied "I can feel the baby, its right there, you're almost ready to push."

You managed a giggle and a strained sigh as you say "I know, I told you that, don't you doubt me young man when I tell you a need to find somewhere to push."

I look apologetic, but the mirth in your eyes gives away the fact you were just teasing me.

"Lets go outside…" I suggest, pausing a second, half expecting you to say no, that you were too vulnerable like this. You didn’t say anything. I continued. "I figure we wanted the natural air, the calming environment… and I don’t want to think I blew up the air mattress for nothing."

You giggled, but were cut short by another tensing pain. As we hold each other, you groan and howl, but start to wriggle off my lap. I question what the rush is, and you manage between panting breaths "don’t… know… how… long… I can wait."

I walk you over to the door, where you grab onto a chair back from the kitchen table sat by the large window overlooking the wilderness. I first grab hold of a pair of shorts - realising that if someone should walk past, it would be easier to avoid a public indecency charge for you than it would be for me - then pull open the door and rush back in to grab the air mattress I'd blown up the first day we got here.

As I dragged it and hefted it up to get it out the door, you pleaded at me to hurry. Your face showed genuine concern.

I took the mattress down the couple of stairs to a picnic area set outside the house. There was a cleared, grassy area next to it which didn’t have any significant amount of branches or any other sharp things which may burst the mattress, dashing back up for you, I led you down the few steps until you got to the mattress, lowering you down to your hands and knees.

You wasted no time at all, pushing back on your hands and thighs, you groaned, held your breath and gave your first push.

After so many hours of passive endurance, pushing with the contraction actually feels good. It almost seems to counter the internal pressure—almost—like finally being able to sneeze after your nose tickled all day. But it’s still your first time doing it and you’re not used to trying to focus and control those innermost muscles.

You rock back and you’re sure you look ridiculous with your ass high up in the air, but you feel my hands rubbing all along your thighs, coaxing you to relax and keep your hips open wide. For the first few contractions you try holding your breath and pushing as hard as you can for as long as you can. However, all that does is make you lightheaded and tired - and frustrated - that it seems to be fruitless.

I sense your growing impatience and ask if you want me to count for you and coach your pushes. You nod, and when you tense with the next contraction, I start at ten and work my way down to

one. You’re determined to keep going, but I tell me that it’s okay to let go and take a break for a second, that the baby is making its way down and it’s okay to breathe for a moment. You release a pained moan and try to pull in enough air to make it through another push. You’re trying to follow along with my instructions, but between being unable to see my face or feel your progress, having to balance on shaky arms on a shaky mattress… well, it’s just not working like that in this moment.

Carefully, you lower myself down so that you’re lying on your side, belly and head resting on some of the nest of pillows I’d brought out with us. Your knees are bent, one leg resting on the bed and the other flared out so you’re open like a clamshell. I sit toward the base of the mattress by your bent legs, my body angled toward yours so you can see me and your free leg can rest in my lap or over my shoulder. I also have a good line of sight as to what’s happening between your legs.

This puts a bit of unwelcome pressure on your hips, but for the most part this feels better—just as it was this morning, the breeze is fresh and cool against your skin allowing you to focus on my face and what your body is telling you. When another contraction starts, you hook my arm into the crook of my knee and pull it back toward your shoulder - as best as you can around your large stomach. Instead of holding your breath you release it slowly, squeezing your core and curling forward until you run out of air, then inhale just as slowly before repeating the process until the contraction begins to wane.

You lower your leg back down around my waist, put a hand on your belly, and look up at me with a smile. “That was good,” you say, finally feeling like you’re getting into the rhythm of this stage.

I plant a kiss on the top of your knee and join with you in feeling the firm swell that holds our child. “Just let me know if I can do anything” I offer with a little laugh.

Several contractions later you request that I begin holding your leg back—the urge to bear down is becoming overwhelming and you find yourself lost in it and unable to do anything else. The pressure is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and every push feels like something is on the verge of cracking, bursting or tearing.

You’re holding your breath again, but only for a few seconds at a time—it’s all you can manage before the instinct to recoil from the pain takes over. It’s changing now—sharpening, burning—and you let out a sharp cry, your body jerking as your knees try to snap shut against my firm grip. I hold you in place, letting you squeeze me in a death grip even as I wrangle your legs to ensure your hips stay open. I try to rub a comforting hand along your stomach, thighs, and bum. You know you must be making progress when you feel me stretching and circling your vaginal opening, trying to prepare you for what’s to come. I give a few playful flicks to your clit, as if to make you forget how bad that last round of pushing felt. It works and you grind down on my hand, pushing it deeper into your folds.

“How- how close?” you ask, still panting despite the contraction being over.

“You’re doing really well” I say enthusiastically, “Each time you push, you bulge out… a few more and I might even start to see the head peeking out.”

You seem to visibly grow bolder at the news, renewing your stamina as you pull back your leg again, once more hooking it over my shoulder. I lean in with my hands, pressing lightly against the bulge forming in your vagina, the first outward signs of the head attempting to make its way, with your help, into the world.

Each push brings with it a groan of effort, and several huffing breaths as I keep count for you, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand rather than allowing your mind to wander and lose track of the progress rather than just concentrating on the pain in each rush of effort.

You push your crotch into my hands, wiggling a little as I stretch out my thumb in response and rub it slowly in circles around your clit. Your groans intensify to shouts, making me pause my actions, but you gasp in between breaths that its helping, and I shouldn’t stop. I leaned forward as best I could with your leg still up in the air on my shoulder and kissed the bottom of the bump, all the playful and affectionate touching resulting in your smile back at me as the contraction finally finished.

Another three, maybe four pushes later, and finally, the first outward signs of the baby appear at your lips, the teardrop shape stretching out over a tiny fraction of the head.

I almost jump with enthusiasm. “I can see it’s head baby… you’re doing so well… keep that effort up.” My gleeful sounds give you another burst of stamina, as you double up your efforts for the next push, straining hard.

“Easy baby… remember, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. You can’t force it. Take it nice and slow and you’ll get there sooner than you know.” You’re left panting by the exertion of the last attempt at pushing.

Of course, as much as there was some visibility of the head, it soon slipped back in again, your lips closing up around it as the push was let off, but between us, we both knew we had passed another milestone.

Your hand snakes down between your legs and feel around, realising that you couldn’t feel the head, and a little crestfallen, you start to take your hand away.

I grab your hand before you can remove it and put it back into place, using my fingers to separate your lips. Your fingers probe in and just inside, you feel it too, the slick, slightly spongy texture of the head of our baby.

“Keep it there on the next push” I say, as you nod, and once more the need to push is upon you. Feeling your finger being moved out as the head moves out, whilst only a fraction of an inch, gives you more motivation to carry on, and you’re suddenly beaming at me with your smiling face, the awe of the moment capturing you entirely.

“I feel it. I feel it!” Your finger traces a line up and down the slit between your folds—it’s still small and tight, but even your laughter causes the head to bob in and out of sight. “Hi, baby,” you coo, then look up at me and suddenly you’re overcome with emotion. “We’re about to be- parents,” you manage, biting back a happy sob.

I smile down at you, wiping away a stray tear and cupping your cheek tenderly before moving my hand down to the crest of your stomach. Another contraction starts but you’re still processing your feelings so I give the thigh you have tucked around my shoulder a little squeeze. “Don’t cry now, love, you’d only just got your breathing under control!”

You laugh, but I’m right— your body is demanding that you push and you’ve got to actually get the baby out before we can officially celebrate. You’re reminded of just how much work there is left to do when your next few pushes do little to reveal any more of the head. With my help, your knee is pulled back almost to your shoulder opening you up wide, you have one arm wrapped around the perimeter of your belly as I keep my palm pressed against your opening. The mound presses out and

recedes in time with your efforts, refusing to retain any progress despite giving everything you have to the pushes.

“You’re doing amazing,” I assure you, and you scoff in disagreement. “You are! You’re stretching, opening up nicely for our baby.”

You might have mumbled something about our baby inheriting an unnecessarily big head from me, but the truth is the baby is just big all over—at our last appointment, they estimated 9lbs+ if you made it to your due date… which is today. You groan and make another attempt at the seemingly impossible task, it always feels like you’re making progress until you stop pushing and it all disappears back into your tight folds.

You rest your leg back down at my side and reach your arms up to me. “I need to move again,” you decide. I pull you up to a seated position and help you swing my legs over the side so you’re perched at the edge of the mattress. It’s low enough to the ground that it’s almost a squat, and I kneel down in front of your spread knees. On the next contraction you curl forward, one hand on the underside of your belly and the other squeezing my shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp as the head lurches forward quickly, but just as quickly my hand is there providing support and counterpressure, tugging gently at the edges of your taut hole. The head jerks back inside when you take a breath, but then you lean back into it, pulling one leg back while keeping the other on the ground for stability. Another quick breath and then you’re back at it, letting out a high pitched cry when you feel yourself widen another fraction of an inch as the stretch starts to burn.

“Don’t let me tear!” you beg desperately between pushes—even though you’re just starting to crown, it feels like you can’t possibly open any more, and it’s almost a relief when the head sinks back inside this time.

You don’t make much progress during the next contraction, and I can tell it’s because of your hesitant pushes— you’re afraid of the pain that’s coming. When it’s over, I coax you down into a full squat in front of me. I don’t say anything, just pepper kisses all over your face and belly as my hands escalate their ministrations between your legs that have you squirming and breathless going into the next contraction. You push again in earnest, a mix of pain and pleasure, throwing your head back in a moan that turns into a shout and something in you gives way—the head making its way past my tailbone. This time when you stop pushing, the head stays right where it is, bowing out the skin of my vagina into a wide dome, a small round cap of hair at its peak.

“That’s it, we’re seeing real progress now baby, you’re doing so well.” My voice has a more muted tone than my yelling, enthusiastic outbursts from earlier, more intended to keep you calm and concentrating on the task at hand.

My fingers trace around the bulge between your legs now, feather light you squirm under my caress.

“That… that’s not fair” you manage to gasp, concentrating on the touch and not the cramping pains that have been your ever present companion for what seemed like hours now.

“You deserve a reward for all the hard work you have done, for all three of us” I say to you, my grin can only be described as devilish. My lips meet yours and we kiss in a passionate embrace - my hand curling around your shoulder in support as you brace yourself on my knee to stop you toppling over.

As we’re kissing, you pull back and groan, yet another contraction starting once more. My free hand which was down between your legs reaches up to caress the bump, then continuing further north it meets a breast and a nipple.

The sensitive area had already been a keen play area between us over the last few weeks, your nipples getting hyper sensitive as they were getting ready to express milk for the baby. My touch caused you to shiver as you recalled a recent play session, and you arch your back involuntarily pressing your chest out to give me more access.

My fingers lightly tug and squeeze the nipple, teasing it back and forth until you expressed a few drops of colostrum.

As I did so you pushed, eyes scrunched tight, panting out loud, all of your concentration on the pleasurable touches I was giving you rather than the pain you were feeling.

The nipple stimulation had an unexpected side effect, the contraction surged unexpectedly. You almost faltered and cried out but managed to maintain your composure, growling phrases such as “come on baby, come on out, mummy and daddy want to meet you” in between panting breaths.

You scream all of a sudden “so… much… pressure!” My hand drops down to between your legs and I feel the sheer amount of the head that’s starting to poke through. Unfortunately there’s still quite a way to go until you’re crowning, but my finger slips in between your lips and the baby’s head, stretching your skin a little.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by yourself, as I press my finger in and stretch you howl out in pain.

“I’m sorry baby but I need to help you stretch. There’s a long way to go and we need to take this nice, slow and easy”

You have moisture at the corners of your eyes as you say you know, acutely aware of how much work you have done, and beginning to realise just how much you still have to do.

“I’m with you” I blurt out, trying to get you back to a good place, your forehead slumping forward and meeting mine, as you pant, the contraction finally passing, my eyes look down between your legs and see the head sitting there, testament to the work you have done so far.

Some of the tension leaves you as you feel the skin stretch further - it’s still heavy and tight, but at least it doesn’t feel on the verge of causing damage anymore—and you sink forward into my embrace. You reach your hand down to feel what I’d just felt, barely recognising your own body. Your lips are hot, puffy and flared out monstrously wide so that they press out against your thighs. Your opening is kept taut and open in a perfectly round “O” and the skin feels so tightly moulded around the baby’s head even as its exit refuses to give way. You know women do this every day… but it just doesn’t seem physically possible in this moment.

“I need to stretch.” You’re telling yourself as much as me, but I nod anyway. “I need to relax long enough to let myself stretch.” You look at me almost pleadingly, and I know what you’re asking.

There’s little danger now of losing sight of the modest crown, so I lift you out of your squat and back up onto the mattress. You’re careful to keep your legs wide, knees falling open to the side as you lay fully on your back. I join you as soon as you’re situated, fitting myself between your hips, propping myself up on one side and hovering over your torso. We share a laugh as we try to find our balance, but soon you’re wincing with the start of another contraction.

“Breathe, baby,” I say gently, my free hand moving between your legs to continue its agonizing work. “Just breathe for now. Your body will do the work for you.”

“And you,” you manage before gritting your teeth and clutching at the pillows shoved in various supportive positions around you. I somehow manage to both stretch your hole and pleasure you at the same time, my thumb and index finger seemingly at odds in their objectives. You can’t help but push a little at the tail end and the burning is more bearable this time.

Between contractions you buck up your hips so both of my hands can work toward opening you up, a mix of massaging and stretching and teasing that has you pulling me on top of you. I kiss you deeply before my mouth moves down your neck and chest, settling over one of your darkened nipples as my tongue playfully flicks and envelops the sensitive tip. You’re so caught up in the sensations that the next contraction—made so much stronger so much faster by the stimulation—takes you completely by surprise and you scream, pulling hastily back on your legs and riding your body’s instinct to push.

“Easy now,” I caution you, pushing back against the growing dome between your legs and carefully supporting the suddenly overly stretched skin. “Breathe.”

“I can’t!” you yell, throwing your head back for a quick inhale before curling forward again.

“Then pant, pant! Hoo-hoo-hoo. Like you’re blowing out a birthday candle.”

You try to emulate releasing quick puffs of air but it turns into one long groan that escalates back into a howl as the pressure of the baby’s head combines with my tugging fingers. You have to press your hands into your trembling knees just to try and keep them open. Another push and you see me looking down between your legs, seeing what seems like the whole outline of the huge head pressing out against my skin still trapped behind my relatively small hole. You collapse backward in defeat.

“It’s too big,” you whine as the contraction begins to fade. You’re sure a lot of women feel that way and it turns out fine, but damn does it feel true right now. I look a little concerned, so you pull yourself up, repositioning so that ypu’re on your knees facing me. You take one of your hands and put it back between my legs and position the other over your breast. With a deep breath in then out again, you announce “Guess we better get to work.”

“Next time you need to push, just make ‘mmm’ sounds OK?”

You look skeptical but nod anyway, and soon you start. You pitch rises, and I tell you to keep it slow and steady, focus on the breathing rather than the pushing.

You nod, as my hands do their work. My hand that’s dipped down between your legs is rubbing and softening the skin between them, pressing back against the hard bulge of the head just agonisingly close.

Your head is tucked into my shoulder, one hand steadying yourself against me, the other rubbing slow circles on your breast and nipple knowing how well that was helping before.

A full minute of that contraction passes and I feel some useful movement between your legs.

“Go and do that again” I say as another one picks up. I can see it’s taking all your concentration not to push hard, your hand that is resting on me shaking and passing the vibrations through to me.

“Think you have another one in you?” I ask as that contraction passes, your response practically begs me “Fuck… no, I need to push”

There’s nothing you can do this time as the contraction begins to build, you reach to grab the hand that was playing with your nipple earlier and press it into the mattress with the force of your push.

My hand cupped under you feels success though, your skin seems to peel apart as the head makes its way out of you, the skin rolling back over the head as more and more of it made its way out from inside of you.

“Back at it, quick!” I say as the push ends, and you do so, more of the head seeing fresh air. My hand pressed against your lips slowly moulds the skin back.

You finally relent, the contraction over with, the head now well on its way to a crown. You look into my eyes and can see I almost have tears forming. “You did it babe, you got over this. Might have a full crown in the next contraction.”

You know in your heart you felt everything but need to feel down between your legs to know it was real. You hand scrabbles down and you trace the outline of your opened lips, smiling, clearly approaching exhaustion now.

No time to rest though as another contraction builds.

Your whole hand can fit over the large dome coming out between your legs now—the skin of your vagina stretched in a vertical mountain over the straining head. It sits heavily right at your opening, a slow burn ready to flame to life at the next push. You keep your hand there as the contraction begins to build, feeling how your body squeezes and compresses even before you add any conscious force. You let out a long, slow breath, waiting until the tension grows and intensifies and you absolutely cannot refrain from bearing down with it.

You groan as you finally give into the primal urge, tilting your hips forward and back in time with your pushes, keeping hold of the delicate ring of flesh, alternating between easing it back and releasing it millimeter by millimeter, push after push until a proper crown begins to form.

My hands rub a circular route from my belly to around the curve of your ass, up your thighs, then back again. Suddenly you hold completely still and I follow suit, my hands poised in front of you for whatever you may need. “Mmm,” You moan, the hum echoing through your whole body as you lean forward with your hands pressed into my thighs as you push down, hard. It burns and you let out a strangled whine, but keep pushing. You take a breath and shuffle your knees open wider and push some more. I’m saying something sweet and encouraging, but you’re too focused to really hear it.

“Come on, baby,” you plead again, slumping forward against me as the contraction ends. “Mummy needs you to work with me here.” I tell you to take your time, that there’s no rush, but that’s easy to say when you don’t have a cantaloupe forcing itself out of your body.

“Maybe next one,” I suggest, trying to keep my spirits up.

“Next one,” you agree. It certainly needs to come soon, you’re feeling weary and exhausted with the effort.

Your knees start to hurt again so I help you unfold your legs so that we’re sitting face to face, your spread legs on the outside of mine with me situated in between. I grab a towel and twist it up into a rope, holding one end while offering you to hold the other. “Lean back,” I tell you when the next contraction starts.

“Holy fuck!” you cry, pulling against the towel as your focused on a powerful push and finally feel the head give some more. Your knees instinctually rise so they’re on either side of your belly, and I have a wonderful view of everything that’s happening. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, it’s burning, it’s- babe, fuck!” you’re muttering explicit nonsense in between howls and wails as the intense searing stretch goes beyond whatever you thought possible. Nearly letting go of the towel and the push you suddenly hear me yelling out in my own exhuberant shout.

“It’s crowning!”

Your head snaps up at me, your expression a wonderful mix of joy, wonder, pain, fatigue and probably a dozen other emotions. Your eyes are wide and your mouth lets out a sudden yell - but it doesn’t sound pained as such, more victorious.

As the head reaches its peak, all the burning, searing pain you had been feeling finally relented, your nerves in your skin stretched to their limit and no longer functioning.

Time seemed to stop for you, your brain going a million miles a minute until your focus is back on me yelling at you

“Stop pushing, you’re at your widest, pant it out, please, you didn’t want to tear!”

You follow without thinking, letting out your breath in a slow, slow exhale. It seemed to take forever in that moment of slowed time between us, but suddenly there was a sound that could only be described as a ‘thwack’ as your tightly stretched vagina lips slid back at speed over the baby’s head.

The next moment seemed to take just as long to resolve in my mind.

Firstly jets of amniotic fluid came gushing out from around the head, shooting all the way across to me and coating my chest.

My view was suddenly focused on the back of a head lodged between your legs, said head being slightly cone shaped following its tight passage.

Pools of fluid were still draining out between your legs.

Miraculously you respond first. “Check for a cord” you manage in a croaky voice.

I nod and let go of the towel which you gather up and put to the side of you.

My hands reach down to the baby’s neck and slide down to the gap between it and your lips. I feel nothing caught.

“You’re good, let’s see, I think the head needs to turn now for the shoulders”

I now have a hand under the baby’s head supporting it as I feel you bounce left and right on your ass cheeks as if you’re shifting your weight to either side, the head rotates sideways and I finally get a good glance of the baby’s face.

I look up and once got tears in my eyes as I say to you “baby looks beautiful love.”

You wish you could see it for yourself too, but seeing the love shine through my eyes at our baby’s face is enough for now. You reach down and it’s still surprising that the whole head is outside of your body, that you can trace the outlines of it’s ears, nose, lips and chubby little cheeks. Your eyes well up to match me and I give your belly one last peck before it’s empty again. There’s nothing quite like this feeling, the power and strength of accomplishing such a feat at direct odds with the

softness and vulnerability that comes with being able to really see and touch your child for the first time.

The relief from delivering the head is short-lived as another contraction reminds me that your work is not yet done. The pressure in your stomach is slightly lessened with the release of so much amniotic fluid, but somehow seems to increase in your hips— seems this baby’s got broad shoulders too. You start panting and grip tightly to my forearm, not quite ready to give everything you have into another push just yet. You ride it out, giving low groans through the contraction until the insistent pressure returns and you feel the shoulders nudging at your opening.

“Are you ready?” I ask, alerted to the change in situation by your grip tightening on my arms.

The answer is an easy, “Yes.”

You move your hands to my shoulders to steady yourself and lean into the push. It’s harder than you thought it’d be for your already stretched skin to give way and as a result you let out a determined growl, then release your breath and dive back into another push. I assist with a little tug and that’s all it takes for the shoulders to pop over your tailbone and fill my opening all at once. You scream at the sudden burning stretch, but it only lasts a moment before the rest of the baby slides out quickly and easily on a river of amniotic fluid.

Your senses and emotions are immediately overwhelmed as this little red squalling beautiful thing is placed on your chest. You’re crying and shaking as you cradle it gingerly—it seems so small and vulnerable, and yet those little fists and feet are kicking out angrily at the uncomfortable eviction into this cold, loud, bright world.

“Hi, baby,” you coo wetly, gently patting its back and reaching for me to join us in the moment. I wrap us up in sun-warmed towels and kneel at your side, laughing through tears and peppering kisses all over your face and our baby’s head. You’re so caught up in the moment—the relief and awe and exhaustion and elation—that there’s one thing you missed. You shift the baby’s body a bit and peek under the towel, and the tears renew afresh. “A little boy!” You look back up at me in surprised joy, but I just chuckle—of course I’d already realised that as I lifted the baby up to your chest. “We have a son.” The realization settles over you as comfortably as me arms around your waist, and you have a feeling we’re both thinking the same thing.

We can’t wait to do this again.

After the brief moment of relief and satisfaction washed over us, I realised we had better call the midwife to make sure everything checked out right with the baby. I pulled out her phone and dialled her number to hear it go off just behind us in the house.

She walked out from the cabin we had rented with a broad smile on her face. I suddenly realised I’d handed her a spare key in case she needed to get in quickly and I couldn’t get away from you.

“You guys did really well. I figured things were hotting up when I heard the screams and moans from outside of my place… had to intervene with some hikers who were heading your way wondering what the commotion was all about. Here…”

She handed us both drinks, as I suddenly realised exactly how late it was. I mentally counted up - I’d been awake 6 hours with you, and no idea about how long you had been up during the night.

You handed off the baby to the midwife who clamped and cut the cord, and handed over the cup as you drank thirstily - all that heavy breathing and yelling had left you parched.

“So… I went to double check because I certainly wasn’t expecting you to be doing this out in the open where any old Tom, Dick or Harry could walk past…”

You grinned, feeling your strength return as you drank the liquid.

“It felt natural to do it in nature” you just said.

“Well… baby gets a good clean bill of health, and I dare say mum has come out all but unscathed too. Well done to both of you”

Another hour or so of paperwork, plenty more postnatal checks, and a complete placenta delivery later, we were laid in bed in the cabin, our small family of three, contemplating what we were going to do for the next week in our cabin.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

YULETIDE REFLECTIONS (nsfw)

word count: 2.3k

pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: you get jealous of the attention lottie’s not giving you at a christmas party, so she makes it up to you

You’d never been so bored in your entire life. You had thought it would be an amazing idea when presented to you, but as you sat at the bar watching the seconds tick lazily by, you were second guessing all of it.

Lottie had decided to host a Christmas party at the wellness center. It was some ploy for new members, and while you were all for expanding the community and helping out, the process had proved horrendous. Parties made you nervous and you didn’t like being around such an excruciating amount of people you didn’t know.

It wasn’t to say that everything wasn’t beautiful — all of the holiday decorations were gorgeous, and everyone was cheerful and festive, but Lottie had abandoned you to go talk to possible new clients and out of boredom you had banished yourself to the bar. There were too many people for your liking, and being in the vicinity of the new clients and their skepticism almost made you nauseous. You hated work events, even when your wife was the one hosting them.

Lisa had joined you at the bar, and for almost an hour she had been pestering you with questions — you were one of the meditation teachers at the wellness center, and Lisa kept giving you random questions about chakras and auras and the placebo effect that you were getting a bit too tipsy to want to answer.

“So, the other day I was reading this book and basically it told me that auras are like clouds. People clouds.” She said, and the phrase ‘people clouds’ made you want to throw your wine in her face.

“I don’t know if that’s the term I would’ve used,” you said tiredly.

“What would you have said?” She asked enthusiastically. You sighed.

You felt a hand on your back and turned to see Lottie at your side, holding a glass of red wine. Relief overcame you, but you were a bit irritated with her for leaving you at the party alone. You had helped her put all of it together, and as soon as it had started she had left you.

“Lisa,” she said softly, and Lisa turned to Lottie as if God had spoken to her. “Will you go help the new clients fill out their paperwork?”

Quickly she nodded and hurried off. She would do anything Lottie said the moment she said to do it.

Lottie took Lisa’s seat next to you at the bar. She seemed to be enjoying herself despite all of the people, all of the chaos, the Christmas carols booming through the wellness center.

“Are you enjoying the party?” She asked. You were silent for a moment, not entirely knowing how to respond — you didn’t want to ruin the night for her, you knew she had been looking forward to it, but you had been in hell the whole duration of the party and you were irritated with her for abandoning you in it.

“It’s nice,” you said, a bit dryly. She raised her eyebrows skeptically, so you tried harder. “The decorations and the music, it all fits well together, and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves… What about you, are you enjoying it?”

She nodded, smiling softly. “I think it all turned out beautifully. We’ve gotten some new people to sign up, too, for after the holidays.”

“Good. We need that.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, choosing instead to watch you as you took a sip of your wine. You were acutely aware of her gaze bearing into you, of every breath she took and every breath you could hardly take yourself. You knew she had figured out by now how much torture the party had put you through.

“What are you thinking about?” Lottie asked, and you tensed slightly. You didn’t want to tell her you only thought horrendous parties like this were bearable in her presence — you didn’t want to tell her that you had been thinking about her all night. That you had been thinking about how gorgeous she looked in her golden dress and kaftan, with jeweled necklaces draping down her neck and chest and her hair hanging in flawless waves down her back.

You didn’t want to tell her you had been excruciatingly envious of everyone she’d come into contact with that night that hadn’t been you. That all you wanted was her full attention, for the two of you to go back to her cabin and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“You hate it, don’t you?” She asked, and you realized that you hadn’t responded to her question.

“I don’t hate it,” you said quickly. “Everything’s gorgeous, I just wish I’d spent all this time with you instead of fucking Lisa.”

She smirked, nodding, pleasantly surprised by your confession. “Jealous, then,” She noted, false sympathy lacing her tone. Your gaze dropped to her left hand fiddling mindlessly with the stem of her wine glass — her nails a deep shade of burgundy, one of her favorite rings on almost every finger.

“I’m not jealous,” you breathed, but the way it came out disproved your point. You averted your gaze, taking another sip of your wine. You felt her stand from her bar stool and come up behind yours, and after a moment her hands found your shoulders, trailing down to your hips. “Lottie…”

“I can’t even leave you alone for a couple of minutes,” she said condescendingly, as if it hadn’t been more than an hour. “What do we need to do to get you feeling better, hm? I can’t have you here sulking all night, baby…”

I’m not sulking, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t tell two lies in a row, not when you both knew the truth.

“Get up,” she ordered, and immediately you complied. You turned to face her, and to anyone else it would’ve looked like a perfectly normal conversation — you were the only one who knew her tells, the only one who could see the hunger in her eyes, the desperation ruled by dominance.

You let her lead you away from the bar and the small crowd that had accumulated around it. You weaved through the festivities, the hundreds of people getting wasted and partaking in the ‘Christmas cheer’ you had yet to find this year.

You heard someone calling Lottie’s name through the crowd. The two of you stopped, and you sighed, already knowing who it was before she joined you.

“I have the finished paperwork!” Lisa said cheerfully, and tried to hand it to Lottie, but the look you gave her made her pause. “Is everything okay? Your aura seems a bit-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Leave me the fuck alone, Lisa, I don’t have time for this.”

Her hurt expression told you every bit of how much you’d offended her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The party had made you miserable and the wine had made you unfiltered and all you wanted was to be with Lottie without interruption.

Lisa hurried away, and apart from a few stragglers from the party, again you were alone with Lottie in one of the hallways of the wellness center.

Lottie pulled you forward sharply, and then to the right, and then she was shutting and locking the door to the single bathroom in the middle of the hall. She stalked forward, pressuring you to step back so that the end of your lower back was pressed against the sink.

“What was that?” She asked sharply. You shrugged. “You should’ve seen her face when you said that.”

A smirk played at your lips. “I did. I’m not sorry for it, I’d say it again.”

She shook her head, watching you with the same hunger she’d had before, the same intensity. She brought a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head so that you’d meet her gaze. You felt your heartbeat quicken, a wave of warmth washing over you, settling between your legs.

“Such a naughty girl,” she murmured, and you ripped your eyes from hers, her gaze too intense to hold. “Acting like this to get attention. So desperate for mommy, aren’t you? Let me help you, baby.”

You nodded quickly, breathing a small ‘yes’ before pulling her into a kiss that though you initiated, she dominated. Her hands slid around your legs to the hem of your dress, and she pulled it up over your hips, out of the way.

Without warning she turned you around. Your hips pressed sharply against the sink, and when you met her gaze in the mirror above it, you shivered. You hadn’t realized that she’d slipped her golden kaftan off, and while not much of her had been revealed to you still you were in awe of what you could get, the way her dark hair was draped over one shoulder and the way her necklaces fell against her chest, and how strong she looked as she held you against the sink.

“Mommy, please,” you whined, squirming slightly as you stood.

“I know, baby,” she cooed, her tone laced with false sympathy. “You need mommy to take care of you, don’t you?”

Any response you were planning was lost when her lips met your neck. She kissed your pulse point gently before beginning to suck a mark, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“Quiet,” she shushed. “We can’t have everyone hearing how desperate you are, knowing how you’re such a little slut for me that I have to fuck you in the bathroom because you don’t think you’re getting enough attention.”

Her words made embarrassment flush through you, but something deep in you liked it, wanted more, anything she would give you.

And though she dominated you entirely, you felt a sort of satisfaction that you’d driven her to take it this far — she had spent the night away from you but at the end of it she was yours, and she would sacrifice everything for you. It was a point you were proving to everyone at the party with every passing moment that she held you there, her lips on your neck, one hand trailing up your dress to grope at your chest and the other sliding between your legs.

Your attention split between her touches — her lips on your neck, alternating between soft kisses and harsh sucking and biting as she marked your neck. Her fingers sliding through your folds, her touch centering on your clit. Your breath hitched as she began to circle it languidly, whispering praises in your ear as you tried to keep silent but we’re unable to help the whimpers and short whines that escaped you. You looked back into the mirror at the two of you and felt your heart beating furiously.

“You’re doing so good, baby, being so good for mommy,” she praised, and a whimper escaped you, louder than you would’ve wanted, but you didn’t care anymore. Let everyone hear — you were too focused on Lottie to give a damn about what anyone thought.

You moaned when she slipped two fingers into you, hardly giving you a moment to adjust before setting a quick rhythm. The heel of her hand pressed against your clit and the sensation of it all was enough to have you euphoric, eyes falling closed.

You didn’t realize you were being so loud until Lottie brought a hand to your mouth to subdue your moans. It only made you more eager, you could only imagine how wet you must be by now, and another soft flush of embarrassment washed through you.

“You’re mine,” she said, “and I’m yours, and that’s the way it stays.”

You nodded quickly, trying your best to hold back a moan at her words. You opened your eyes, looking into the mirror, and when you met her gaze you whimpered.

“Good girl,” she praised. “My pretty little slut, so close to cumming for me, aren’t you?”

Again you nodded, holding her gaze for a moment before letting your vision slip down to her hand between your legs. You couldn’t see her fucking you, but you could see the way the muscles in her arm flexed with every movement, and that alone was enough to have you reeling.

“Look at you,” Lottie said. “So fucking gorgeous, and all mine.”

You moaned, your eyes falling closed for a moment, hips involuntarily bucking into her hand.

“Cum for me, baby. Show mommy how pretty you are when you cum for her.”

With a gasp you came, her hand still pressed against your mouth to silence you as she worked you through your orgasm. You leaned into her, letting her hold you up better than you could hold yourself up on the sink, and when you looked into the mirror you could see yourself unraveling at her touch. You could see, too, the reverence in Lottie’s eyes, the adoration and hunger with which she watched you, and it was everything.

When you came down from your high, she turned you around again to face her. You wrapped your arms around her, fatigue washing over you heavily, but when she held you it was the safest place in the world for every bit of your exhaustion, a place of rest.

“You did so good for me, angel,” she whispered, running a hand through your hair. You let yourself be overcome with every sensation of her touch. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you replied. You were silent for a moment, but then she let out a quiet chuckle, and confusedly you looked up at her. “What are you laughing about?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, but when you gave her an imposing look, she folded. “I was just thinking about how this is the scene they never show in Hallmark movies.”

[lum13]

Her ways of loving you

Her ways of loving you.

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

Letting you sleep on her shoulder. 

“Red carnation means love, while yellow carnation means rejection. Now, can anyone tell me—“ 

You blinked slowly, too drowsy to focus on your class. With all your assignments, you were not able to get any sleep last night— and the caffeine you consumed was not helping at all. 

You yawned, straightening your back, trying to wake yourself up. But it was no use— your eyelid just got heavier and heavier as minutes passed by, and you knew you couldn’t stay awake for long.

With thirty minutes left in class, your head flopped onto your girlfriend’s shoulder— you passed out in less than a second.

Wednesday went stiff by your sudden touch— furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. She snapped her head towards you, only to be greeted by the view of you sleeping— eyes closed, soft breathing ticking her nose. She stared at your sleeping form for longer than necessary, before focusing back to class.

She ignored the looks her classmates gave her the whole session.

2. Walking with you, shoulders brushing against each other.

“—and Enid, she nearly threw her phone in the lake! She was like—“ Giggles rang through the hallway as you laughed at the memory. “Enid is so funny. No wonder she’s so popular!”

Wednesday only hummed in reply, watching you talk excitedly. You turned to look at her, grinning softly. 

“Anyway, how was your day?” You asked, “I haven’t seen you at all today. Having different classes can be a real pain sometimes.” 

“Horrible.” Came a reply, making you chuckle. “You always say that. Some originality, please?” You teased, before looking up to the sky.

The sky was dark, but studded with shimmering stars. The moonlight shone over you and your lover, like a giant spotlight on a stage. 

“Huh.” You let out, “It's a full moon.” 

Wednesday’s eyes followed yours, before tracing back to your face. 

“Beautiful, hm?” You sighed out, admiring the view. 

The raven haired girl only brought herself closer to you— shoulders brushing— in response.

3. Her writing time, with your playlists

“—I never knew— you could hold moonlight in your hands, ‘Till the night I held you—“ 

You were on your girlfriend’s bed, flipping through the pages of your book. The familiar melody rang in the room, making you hum to the tune. 

“These lyrics are going to make me throw up.” Wednesday said monotonously without stopping her typing. You laughed, closing your book and putting it away on the nightstand beside you.

“Imagine that it’s me singing the lyrics. Maybe it’ll help.” You smiled jokingly, “Although I could never beat Ariana’s singing, she’s too good.” You gushed, lying down to face the ceiling. 

A moment passed before your girlfriend’s voice interrupted the comfortable silence.

“It still makes me nauseous.” 

“However, it made the song less agonizing to listen to.”

4. Being with you when you cry

You curled up into a ball against the wall, unable to contain the cries that threatened to slip past your lips. 

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, but the tears kept coming, and coming, and coming..

You flinched when you heard someone approaching. You could tell it was your lover by the sound of her footsteps.

You felt her sit down beside you, her eyes straight ahead, without saying anything at all.

The two of you sat there until you were too tired to cry, until your hot tears dried up, unmoving throughout the whole process. 

“..thank you.” You whispered with your hoarse voice, finally turning your head to face the raven haired girl.

She met your eyes, and looked at you with her signature blank expression. 

But you knew the difference. Her eyes were softer. Her body wasn't as stiff as usual, and most importantly, she didn’t pull away when you reached for her hand. 

Although only the tip of your hand was touching the other’s, you could feel what she was trying to say.

‘I love you.’

And you loved her too.

-

this probably doesn’t make sense since I wrote this in an hour at 3am!! Forgive me for being so cheesy I hate this.

Also the song mentioned in this is <moonlight> by Ariana grande!

[sodobabe]

I’m With You Always: GN Reader x Aether x Dew x Swiss (Poly Relationship)

A/N: I have been wanting to work on a fic where a ghoul, or in this case, three ghouls, take care of the reader while the reader is suffering through a depressive episode and finally breaks down. This was originally just going to be Aether x reader but I got carried away so the reader is in a poly relationship with Aether, Dew, and Swiss. If polyamorous relationships are not your thing, just skip this. If they are your thing, enjoy this heartwarming fic of three ghouls taking care of their mate.

Warnings: A WHOLE LOT OF ANGST mentions of self-hatred (reader has semi-suicidal thoughts), mention of nausea, tooth rotting fluff,

You sat in the library by yourself, letting your brain rot with bad thoughts. I don’t deserve anything. I am nothing. Maybe the world would be better if I was dead. The thoughts were all consuming. You had been feeling this way for quite some time now. Even members of the abbey could tell as they would always ask if you were feeling okay because you did not seem like your normal self. You closed your eyes, hoping to hold back your tears, but alas, you failed. You curled up in the window bench as you watched the rain splash into the already forming puddle on the sidewalk. The more you watched the rain, the more it seemed as if your tears matched its pace.

As you sat there, paying no mind to anything other than the thoughts in your head, you heard a ruckus coming from across the library. You turned your head to see who it was and quickly snapped your head back around hoping that Aether, Swiss, and Dew didn’t notice you curled up in the window. You focused your attention back on the growing puddle. It was hypnotizing. It gave you time to create worse thoughts. What if I jumped out of the window? Would I die, or would I just suffer more because I would only be severely injured? The thoughts were growing with more and more morbid details. You closed your eyes to try to quiet your mind.

As your mind continued to race, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You realized it was getting harder and harder to fill your aching lungs. Fuck. They’re going to sense my distress. You were absolutely correct. You felt a stronger hand on your shoulder. You knew it was Aether. You knew his familiar touch, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look at such a caring ghoul.

”Y/N? You alright, love?” Aether's voice was as smooth as the calm ocean.

All you could do was shake your head as a torrent of tears ran down your blood red cheeks. You tried to take a deep breath to sooth yourself, but a sob was let out instead.

”Oh, my little love. It’s okay, shhhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Aether softly spoke, as he picked you up from your window.

You lost it, you sobbed into the warmth of his chest as he carried you out of the library, motioning for Swiss and Dew to follow him. You couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to. Aether gently carried you back to his room in the ghoul den and placed you softly into his nest. As you felt all of Aether’s engulf your aching body, you curled in on yourself, hugging your knees, and essentially curling up into a ball. You felt the bed sink next to you as Aether sat down and gently placed a hand on your back.

“Dew, can you go fix up some soup and grab some ginger ale?” Aether asked, knowing that you would make yourself nauseous by working yourself up.

”Sure thing, any type of soup?” Dew asked as he made his way out of Aether’s room.

”Anything we have, they’re not picky,” Aether said with a light chuckle.

”Swiss, can you go to their room, grab their stuffie, a fresh pair of clothes, and the book they’ve been reading that is on their bedside table?” Aether asked the multi.

Swiss didn’t reply. He simply nodded and made a beeline for your room. Aether stood up from the bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and abandoned his shirt. He knew that you enjoyed feeling his bare chest. At this point, he was willing to do anything to get you calm enough so you did not make yourself sick. He crawled back into bed with you, sat against his head board, and pulled you to his chest. Your head met his chest and you knew you would be okay, however, you could not bring yourself to stop crying.

”Don’t worry, my love. I’ve got you now. I’ve got you forever. No need to worry. I am here, as long as you need or want me to be,” Aether cooed into your ear.

You laid on the quintessence ghoul, listening to his heart beat, trying to steady your mind. You weren’t even sure what you were thinking anymore. You were just feeling emotions that you had been keeping to yourself. Aether continued to rub gentle circles on your back and gently shush you as you tried to gather your emotions. You were happy knowing that he still cared about you, even at your lowest like this. His very essence was enough to calm you to the point that your eyes stopped producing tears. Once you thought you were calm enough, you looked up at Aether who was looking back at you.

”Hey, lovebug. You’re okay,” he said before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

”Aeth, I- I’m sorry,” you mumbled out.

“What are you sorry for?” He questioned, confusion flushing over his face.

“For being like this. For being an emotional mess all the time. I wish I wasn’t like this. I hate it. I hate myself for it,” you began to babble.

“Hey, stop that. You’re allowed to feel feelings, but you are not allowed to hate yourself. I won’t allow it. You are an amazing human being. You are the kindest soul I have met. You are worthy, Y/N. Do not let anyone tell you differently, even yourself,” he said, reassuringly.

The tears started again as you thought he was mad at you for saying you hated yourself. He pulled you closer to him, and started to gently rock you back and forth, trying to get you to calm down again.

”Shhhhh, Y/N. I am not mad at you, my little love. I am simply trying to reassure you of what a great person you are. I could never be mad at you, ever,” he said as he resumed rubbing your back.

As he continued holding you, Dew walked back in with your soup and ginger ale. You needed it, you hadn’t eaten in two days. You needed to eat but could not bring yourself to do so.

”Hey, little firefly. I have soup and fizzy ginger juice,” Dew said with a chuckle to himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the fire ghoul’s dry sense of humor, even if tears were still pouring out of your eyes. Dew sat down in the nest next to Aether and held your soup, waiting for you to sit up and take a bite.

”Wanna try and eat? You can sit up, we aren’t going anywhere,” Aether reassured, noticing your tight grip on his upper body.

Once you realized that you were surrounded by the ones you loved, minus Swiss for the time being, you started to relax. You mustered up the strength to pry yourself off of the warm quint ghoul, and took the bowl of warm soup from Dew.

“It might be a little cooler now, want me to warm it up for you?” Dew asked, holding out his hands.

”No, thank you, it’s a good temperature,” you said as you finished your first bite.

The soup felt good going down. It was warm enough to warm you up, but not scorching hot. You did a little shimmy as you continued eating your soup. You looked up at the two ghouls who were staring back at you, smiles spread across your face. As you continued eating your soup, Swiss bolted back into Aether’s room with your stuffie and a pair of clothes for you.

”I’m back, sorry it took so long, Rain was being needy, as always,” Swiss said as he handed Aether your stuffie and put your clothes on the couch next to Aether’s bathroom.

He crawled into the bed on the other side of Aether and snuggled into the quintessence ghoul’s side. Swiss had joined the relationship that you, Aether, and Dew had formed. You loved all three of them equally, as they loved you and each other equally. They each helped you through depression in different ways. Aether was always the one to hold you while you cried, well they all did that, but Aether was different. He was more soothing. He didn’t force you to talk about anything if you did not want to. Swiss was also soothing but tried to get you to talk, which most of the times you would, but he never understood why you wouldn’t the other times. He always talked about his feelings so he just thought everyone did. Dew, sweet Dewdrop. He tried to be helpful when it was just you and him, and you were in an episode, but the poor ghoul has a hard time expressing his emotions, let alone helping others with theirs. He would hold you and text Aether to come help. You loved him nonetheless.

“Wanna talk about it?” Swiss chimed in.

“Swiss, not everybody talks about their feelings,” Aether said, sternly.

”I know, but sometimes they talk about them,” Swiss replied.

”Maybe in a little, just wanna finish my soup and lay down,” you said, as you smiled to your multi ghoul.

As you took the last bite of your soup, and sipped the remaining broth, you handed your bowl back to Dew for him to place on the table next to Aether’s bed. You resumed your position laying between Aether’s legs with your head on his broad chest. He wrapped his arms around you as Dew snuggled into Aether’s side, wrapping his arm around you, and Swiss doing the same on the other side.

”A shower would really help you,” Dew chimed in.

“In a minute, just wanna lay here right now,” you replied, giving a soft smile to the kind fire ghoul.

The four of you laid in bed for a few minutes before you decided that you did in fact need a shower, but when you went to move, you realized that Aether and Swiss had fallen asleep. Dew was still awake, staring at you with admiration.

“Dew?” You whispered.

”What’s up, babe?” He replied.

”Wanna take a shower,” you mumbled.

The fire ghoul slowly pried himself off of the sleeping quintessence ghoul and stood up out of bed, releasing a big stretch while holding out his hand to you. You got out of bed next, and took his hand. The two of you walked to Aether’s bathroom and quietly closed the door. Dew started the shower, making sure the temperature was to your liking.

“Do you want me to cover my eyes, y’know, so you can undress?” The fire ghoul asked shyly.

”Dew, you do realize that you’ve seen me naked too many times to count, right. I don’t care if you look,” you joked with him.

”I know, but I feel like now is the wrong time to be turned on,” he chuckled, his tail tucked between his legs.

You rolled your eyes and smiled as you started to undress. You finally stepped into the shower and the hot water felt amazing against your aching body. You stood in the downpour for a minute before you realized you didn’t want to be alone.

”Dew? Can you join me? Don’t wanna be alone,” you said, shyly.

Before you knew it, a naked Dew was joining you in the shower. He knew exactly what to do as he embraced you, gently tipping your head back into the water to get your hair nice and wet. He then stuck his own head into the water, getting his stunning blonde hair wet. You always enjoyed showering with Dew. Even though the water was hot, he added to it. He grabbed your shampoo and squeezed a good amount into his hand before rubbing his hands together and gently massaging it into your hair. The warmth of his palms along with the massaging sensation relaxed you even more. While he was at it, he also added shampoo to his hair. While he let his shampoo sit, he embraced you once again and tipped your head under the water to rinse it out. One of his hands embraced the small of your back while the other worked on getting the shampoo out of your hair. Once your hair was shampoo free, he grabbed the conditioner and lathered your ends to make sure they were good and hydrated. He let that sit while he rinsed the shampoo out of his own hair. He didn’t bother to condition his hair as he only did it once a week. While the conditioner was still sitting in your hair, he took the time to wash your body. He picked up the clean washcloth that was on the towel rack and put a little bit of Aether’s body wash on it, knowing you liked to use his. He then gently ran the cloth all over your body, leaving sensual kisses along your body in the process. He then wiped himself down with the cloth. It was time to completely rinse. He held you close to him, under the downfall of water and worked his hands through the ends of your hair, making sure to get all of the conditioner out, while the water washed the soap off of the two of you.

Now that the shower was done, he helped you dry off and put on your fresh clothes. He went to reach for a clean shirt of his when he noticed you were staring at it.

”Would you like this shirt instead of the one you are wearing?” He smirked at you.

All you did was nod. He picked up the shirt and walked over to you. He gently lifted your hands up and pulled the shirt you were wearing off before pulling it onto himself. He then pulled his shirt onto you and gave you a deep kiss.

”I love you, Y/N. Never forget it. We all love you,” he whispered in your ear before opening the bathroom door.

Swiss and Aether were awake now, just chilling on the bed with each other. Dew took your hand and guided you back to bed. You crawled back in between Aether’s legs and placed your back against his chest.

“Mmmm, you smell delightful, love,” he purred in your ear.

”Do you want to read your book? I brought it for you,” Swiss said as he reached behind him and grabbed the paperback.

You graciously took it from him and opened it to where you left off.

”Thank you, all of you. I love you all so much and I’m sorry that I can be a lot sometimes,” you said, taking a moment before starting your reading.

”We wouldn’t have you any other way, Y/N,” Swiss says as he gives you a quick kiss.

”We don’t want you any other way,” Aether seconds, kissing the back of your neck.

”You’re perfect just the way you are, my fire love,” Dew said as he took your hand.

The three ghouls snuggled into each other after throwing on Inside Out, one of Dew’s favorites. You leaned your back into Aether as you continued your reading. Before you knew it, you were being woken up by Swiss taking your book from you, making sure to place your bookmark into the pages.

“Get some sleep, love. You deserve it. We will all be here when you wake up. Those two are out cold. If you need anything, let me know,” Swiss said before giving your forehead a kiss. He was always up throughout the night. Consider it a nightwatch.

[yoyomomiko]

"You're not leaving."

Pairings: Witch!Shinobu x F!reader

Summary: After passing out in an unknown forest due to harsh wounds while trying to escape your arranged marriage, you wake up in a small hut. What you didn't know, was that the woman who helped you refused to let you go and roam free.

Warnings: BLOOD; wounds, slight yandere (not really).

(A/N): With how slow I'm writing, I'm not sure I'll finish every single fic on my Halloween special (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠) I'll try my best!! Anyways, this fic was a little bit rushed towards the end, and it may have some mistakes... -> halloween m.list

The twigs snapped underneath your bare, bruised feet as you forced yourself to continue. The leaves trembled every time you passed through a bush, the birds chirping around you.

You were bleeding from your arm; where your mother had thrown a shattered piece of a vase at you. From your feet; from running without any shoes. From your knees; when you fell down the stairs while trying to get away from your fiance. You had a few cuts and holes in your clothes from the branches, and also a few bruises here and there.

You tried ignoring the pain and your sore, dry throat. Your lips were cracked and you couldn't go on. You've been running for too long, and back home, you didn't have time to drink water. It's been almost hours since you've drank anything, if you recall correctly.

Your head was spinning, chest heaving up and down. It hurt to breathe, and each step you took only fed into the agony. You felt the need to rip out a scream from the top of your lungs, feeling nauseous, your mind a blur.

Your eyelids drooped down, threatening to close completely. Your consciousness was slowly slipping away, feeling your eyes roll back as you made contact with the ground, the world blacking out.

...

...

Your eyelashes fluttered open, breathing heavily. Your whole body felt numb, unable to properly move. You tried to move around, but all you did was cause pain.

You looked around, observing your surroundings. It was a small room, and all it had was a bed, an oven, a small carpet and two shelves that went from empty bottles to filled ones, books and so many unidentifiable objects.

It was pretty dusty, but only in a few places. You noticed that it wasn't too messy, mostly organized and clean.

What you also noticed, was that your wounds were now bandaged, your clothes changed into a bright, simple and white dress. It didn't hurt so bad anymore, they were clean, properly washed and then left to heal properly. Another thing you realized, was that the smaller cuts and bruises were no where to be seen.

"You've awoken." You heard a soft voice, turning your head to the sound of it.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to harm you." The beautiful woman spoke again, a small smile on her face.

"Where am I? Who are you? What am I doing here? What happened?" You questioned, frantically looking around the small room as she let out a chuckle.

"One question at once, please." She leaned over to you, inches away from your face, wich caused you to blush.

"Where am I?" You asked, scanning her beautiful face.

"You're in my hut." She replied, her smile widening.

"Who are you...?" Your breath got heavier, chest heaving up and down.

"Ah, of course! I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Kochou Shinobu." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, before slowly opening them, now half lidded.

"What's with the... Weird hat? And all the bottles, and those... Things on the shelves?" You asked again, squinting your eyes at the unidentifiable objects that were sat on the shelves.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm a witch!" Shinobu giggled out, her small hand covering her lips.

Your eyes widened. You didn't believe her, she was for sure delusional. First, it was your fiance's father talking about some 'demons', and now witches? Those were children's stories, the ones where little kids would fear disobeying their parents, afraid a witch would steal them away.

"You're not." You disagreed, shaking your head.

"I'm not?" Shinobu let out a chuckle, a genuine smile stuck to her face. "Then how come I almost fully healed you? It's called magic, dear." She explained, your eyes darting to where your smaller injuries were fully healed.

"But this isn't true... It can't be true, witches don't exist..." You murmured, your head feeling empty, your mind long lost.

"Really? Well I suppose I'm not real, then." She shrugged, smile fading.

"You're not a bad witch, are you?" You asked, feeling like a toddler.

"I did help you, didn't I?"

"You did..." You nodded your head, all of the sudden blushing.

You tried sitting up, only to wince in pain and lay back down onto the hard mattress.

"What were you doing running through the woods like that? It's dangerous, filled with monsters."

You realized she was referring to those 'demons' or whatever they were. You fiddled with your thumbs, fidgeting with anything you could lay your hands on.

"Trying to escape my family. My fiance, and my whole life at once..." You muttered a response, glancing away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"Mhm, I get it." She nodded, figuring out what caused you to run away.

She softly placed her hand on top of your forehead, checking your temperature and making sure you don't have a fever.

"Are you a doctor or something?" You asked, a smirk on your lips as she retracted her hand from your face.

"You could say that." Her hand was now tracing your chest, making circles all around. You felt your heart beat faster, your chest rising up and down heavily as your breath hitched.

"Don't be so scared now." She kept her smile, giving you a sly look, a pink tint covering her cheeks as well.

Her hand trailed down, way down, too close to where you weren't sure you wanted it to be. She then pushed her own hand off, turning around, her back facing you.

"Where- Where are you going?" You stuttered out a question, eyes widening.

"To fetch you some water." She replied, walking out of the hut. You turned your gaze away from the door, feeling your cheeks burn and your heart thump loudly in your chest.

Where you seriously falling in love with a witch?

You heard footsteps, thinking that she's coming back as she swiftly opened the door, walking up to you with water. She handed it to you as you drank it all, taking big sips.

You tried shuffling against the bed, wich wasn't too comfortable, but was definetly better than the floor.

"I wet a cloth and tapped your lips with it, they were dry and I figured you were thirsty, but you wouldn't wake up."

"Thank you, for everything... I mean- really! But uh, I have to go now." You spoke up, glancing away a few times.

Her lips formed a thin line, smile fading in an instant as she just stared at you. The cute look on her face immediately gone.

"Where are you going to go then?" She asked through her gritted teeth, wich slightly scared you.

"I wanted to go live with my-"

"You're not leaving."

Her words came out like venom, hissing them out. You tried to keep repeating in your head that she's not a bad witch, but it could have been a lie.

You felt vulnerable underneath her piercing gaze, scared to move or make a sound. Now that you took your time to look at her face, she seemed intimidating. Her soft features forming one of anger and something else you couldn't quite make out.

"You're staying with me, whether you like it or not." The corners of her lips tugged upwards, except this smile wasn't cute anymore, but instead creepily disturbing.

Your brows furrowed together, feeling panic race through your veins, your breathing growing heavier.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[sourpatchys]

Chapter One: Hell Hole

Time: Right before the USJ attack

Rating: nothing explicit in this chapter, though overall this story is 18+

Word Count: 1k

Summary: To learn how to love after years of loathing— the very concept had Shigaraki sick to his stomach. He didn't love you, he didn't love anyone—not even himself. In which Tomura Shigaraki, a villain in despite of anything else, learns that maybe he doesn't hate everything after all.

A/N: Same drill as my other ongoing story! This first chapter is just a stepping stone to create some solid groundwork for future chapters, it may be short but the story cannot stand without it <3

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You were supposed to be dead— a pile of dust in some dark alleyway where no one would think twice to look.

But you were alive, perfectly healthy and put together, staring at a sticky unwashed bar table just wishing— praying — that the floor would swallow you whole.

Disoriented couldn't even begin to explain the way you were feeling. You were nauseous, your skin was clammy and cold, a million thoughts were swirling through your head and you couldn't focus on a single one.

You were afraid to look up— hell— you were afraid to breathe too deeply without permission. No one was speaking, the only noise you could hear was the fast arrhythmic thumping of your own heart against your bruised ribs. The only concept you were able to hold onto was a single word, and even that was caught in your throat, unable to be spoken against the humid air— why? Why did this have to happen to you?

It was as if the world itself was mocking you, challenging you to try again— to go big or go home. You wanted neither.

Suddenly someone's throat was cleared, a gesture meant to grab the attention of the patrons, though you refused to look, afraid of what you might see.

"Tomura, what plans do you have for this girl?"

The voice belonged to the shadowy man behind the bar, you could feel his eyes on you as he spoke— it made your skin crawl.

"Does it matter?"

This voice was familiar, scratchy and untamed— it belonged to the man who had brought you here— the one who had tried to kill you not even a full hour earlier.

"I suppose not. I was hoping to understand the bedding situation, if she's staying I'll be needing to clean the storage room."

"Whatever."

The thought of staying in this disgusting place made you wish you would've died. It was awkward and stuffy, tense and so, unbearably quiet. Your body was in extreme amounts of pain, and you somehow doubted anyone within range cared enough to offer their assistance.

Sounds of shifting feet and clanking glass solidified your fears— you were going to be staying in this hell hole whether you liked it or not.

—

With nothing to focus on, minutes felt like hours and seconds left like decades— it was if your life force was being sucked out of your body bit by bit.

Usually, in movies or books there would be a clock ticking away in the background— a solid reinforcement that time was moving and the world hadn't ended. Unluckily enough this was reality and you were stuck clinging to yourself instead of abstract coos and ticks— not even your own breathing was loud enough to distract you from the overwhelming sound of silence.

You had almost forgotten Shigaraki was still with you— trying your hardest to lose yourself in make believe, pretending that this wasn't happening.

"Why didn't my quirk work on you."

His voice was demanding, seething and full of venom. It was an understandable question, even if it was disguised under something much more dangerous and lethal. It didn't seem as if he was used to not getting his way.

"I don't know."

It was an honest answer— choked out from your burning throat. You'd seen the horror that came from his hands. Cold, calloused and lethal weapons of destruction. When he'd touched you, you had made peace with the fact that you were going to die, that the world no longer had space for you and he was simply cleaning up the mess.

You could still feel of his fingers gripping your throat— and then your face, and then your arm and your leg. All he'd managed to accomplish was destroying your favorite jacket and turning your leggings into frayed shorts. If anything you were more confused than he could ever be.

"Bullshit. What's your quirk?"

Now this was hilarious, you weren't sure if it was the absurdity of it all or the pain finally turning your brain into mush— but you laughed. Giggling up a storm to the point your eyes were watering and your stomach felt as if it would collapse.

The stool Shigaraki was sitting on made a screech as he stood, marching towards you and grabbing the collar of your stained shirt forcing your face towards his in a frenzy.

"What's so fucking funny?!"

Without the fear holding you back, you found yourself looking into his striking vermillion eyes, small hiccups of laughter still spilling from your chest as you found the words to say.

"I'm registered Quirkless."

He threw his hands off of you, tossing your body back into the sticky unwashed counter. Looking at his face, devoid of the threat of dying, he looked like a pouting child. His brows were furrowed, his bottom lip was stuck in a pout between his teeth, and his hair was frayed in every direction, as if he had only just rolled out of bed. A distant part of you wondered how a man so slimy and unforgiving had become such a fuss in the world today. Though a much larger and present part of you knew, if he had wanted you dead, you wouldn't be sitting here right now.

In a shaky voice, one that made your bones tremble and your ever unceasing nausea to come back full force, he spoke once more. "You aren't leaving."

He was hunched over, his face now hidden under the turquoise locks that had framed his face only moments before. You felt sick again, the fear steadily creeping back into your skin as you looked away from his trembling body.

You wanted to take it back, to lie and make up some make believe quirk, just to see if maybe you could leave. To go back to your stupid 9-5 and forget this had ever happened. Realistically, you knew that wouldn't happen— Shigaraki had you in his grasp, like a snake strangling its prey.

Next Chapter

[starlightsuffered]

Ghosts (part 1)

Info - trans fem reader, ghosts, abandoned by family, series, blood

I carried my suitcases through the rickety door of my new house. It was dingy. A dark mark stained the floor of the bedroom. There was an oddness about the place. It was both homey and frightening.

I felt like there had been great love here. Every wall felt as though it’d been important and adored. If walls could speak, I knew this place would have a story to tell. I was reminded of the novella called the Brave Little Toaster that I’d read, and of the horror video game about a house that missed its previous owners so much it drove new buyers insane. I shuddered all over.

This would have to do, even though it felt haunted. Every step I took forward I felt like my body was weighted down by something. I didn’t know why I felt…. Almost contaminated.

“A ghost would love it here,” I mumbled.

I began the unpacking process. I didn’t have much. There wasn’t a lot I could pack quickly when my parents had decided I had no home with them anymore.

I was sweaty once I’d put the appropriate boxes in each room. This house had a rickety old AC unit that wasn’t nearly strong enough to cool the whole house. I grabbed a cup and used the sink. There was no water filter here. There was no ice button. I would have a bit of trouble getting used to this life but it would be worth it.

I surveyed my new abode. It was sparse but definitely liveable. I looked and looked until a strange anger over took me. I was prone to it. Biological. The amount of times I’d seen my parents fly into a rage was uncanny. At least I had a reason for the unjust component of it. They had no excuses.

I lowered my head and sobbed. The tension weighed heavy on me. It could’ve been cut like a knife. I needed a relief.

I decided to breathe slowly and take a tour of where I was living. I walked slowly. I made sure to sip water as I did. The technique of calming myself was working well.

My eyes landed on a door I hadn’t taken into account before. I cocked my head. I didn’t know about this door. The house was so small I didn’t think I could miss anything.

The door looked somehow like it was imbued with a sort of cosmic energy. I tiptoed as if there were anyone else in this house I needed to be wary about. I took the handle in a tentative hand. I noticed I was shaking just a little bit.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. I gasped, hand fluttering to my mouth as I took in the sight the small broom closet.

The walls were dripping what very convincingly looked like fresh blood. Words and pictures were made on the unsanded walls. There were hundreds of pictures of the same girl. Polaroids, but some in more vibrant colour as the years progressed.

I played nervously with the necklace around my neck as I stepped inside. I swore it was colder inside the closet. I tried to read the messy script on the walls.

“Maren”

“Love”

“Sacrifice”

“Eat”

“A meal for my love”

“I live inside you”

The phrases made me shudder. I also gently a bit nauseous. The girl in the photos must be Maren. On a pulpit, looking almost like an altar or shrine, was a book. Faded writing journaled about a young man’s life. I didn’t have time to read it and my mind was spinning.

“Do I scare you?” Asked a voice. I jumped out of my skin. When I turned to see the culprit, no one was there.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[fawnforgold]

| Take Me With You |

Zhezhi x Gn!Reader | Minors do not interact

Warnings: Depression, Mental Health Themes, Gender Neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Ooc Zhezhi (?), Established Relationship, Psychosis, Angst, Paranoia, Negative Thought Patterns, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Zhezhi is implied to also have mental health issues, 1.5k words.

Summary: After you vanished from the public eye for about a month Zhezhi begins to worry. Then, one day she finally sets out to find the truth about your absence.

It had been a whole month since Zhezhi had seen you roaming the streets of Jinzhou City. Usually you would have been found watching people who passed by or reading a book on a bench nearby, but it had been a long time since Zhezhi had seen that familiar sight. Initially she worried she had done something wrong, perhaps she had offended you in some way without realizing, but she quickly understood that wasn’t the case.

Granted she probably could have called you, maybe even find an excuse to come see you. Although, that was easier said than done. So, she waited until she felt too much time had passed, and indeed it had. Zhezhi gathered a basket full of items she hoped would cheer you up, and mustering up all the courage she could she nervously made her way to your place. 

As she made the journey there Zhezhi thought about all the reasons that could have resulted in your absence, trying her best to prepare for the worst, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the truth behind it all. 

She knocked on the door once, twice, three times, but there was no answer. Zhezhi called out your name, suddenly feeling nauseous and on edge. No answer. Twisting the knob she realized the door had been carelessly left unlocked and that's when she felt her heart drop into her stomach. She was terrified of what she would find inside. So, without hesitation she started to knock on the door faster and louder, calling out your name as she neared the brink of tears, panic flooding her veins like a contagious disease. 

There was a brief moment where Zhezhi considered walking inside and looking for you herself, not caring whether you gave her permission or not. Thankfully, she decided against it.  Instead she practiced breathing deeply in and out while she watched as the knob turned and the door slowly opened to reveal you standing before her. 

“Zhezhi? What are you..?” You rubbed your eyes with your fists and yawned. 

Zhezhi became fidgety as her face turned bright red. Averting your gaze she tried her best to explain her irrational behavior in a rational way. After some time she was finally able to explain everything in full to you. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Zhezhi. Her body curled and eyes glossed over shamefully, feeling the weight of everything she’d gone through that past month.

“How about we talk inside.” You offered with a smile, taking Zhezhi’s hand with your own. 

As you led her inside Zhezhi was introduced to the environment you had unfortunately grown accustomed to. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink, clothes which most likely hadn’t been washed in a while which littered the floor, and it was incredibly dark due to the closed curtains and lights which were either turned off or dimly lit. It was an absolute mess and that only furthered Zhezhi’s concern, she was reminded once again why she was worried in the first place. Regardless, of her exaggerated reaction, her concern on the other hand was warranted.

You brought Zhezhi into the kitchen where you showed her a small table and set of chairs, and gestured with your hand for her to take a seat. 

“I hope this is okay, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come over and this is.. uh..” You stopped yourself, not wanting to say the words that lingered underneath your tongue.

“What is it?” Zhezhi asked in confusion.

You shook your head as you grabbed an empty glass from the cupboard and began filling it with water. “I just didn’t have time to clean, so this is the cleanest room for now.” There was a pause where only the sound of the running water could be heard. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Who were you kidding? Of course, Zhezhi cared. She didn’t come over for any fun occasion. The only reason Zhezhi nearly barged into your house was because you had practically vanished from civilization. Turning off the faucet you clenched the glass, your hand shaking as those voices replayed in your brain like a painful memory. You grit your teeth before relaxing your mouth and turning to smile something strained towards Zhezhi just as you placed the glass right in front of her. You took the seat across from her and looked anywhere that wasn’t in her direction.

“So..” Zhezhi started, “How have you been?” She smiled nervously, but behind the awkwardness you could see worry and fear swimming in those pink irises of hers. 

You sighed. “Really?” 

Zhezhi looked at you and frowned. “Sorry..” 

There was a moment of silence.

“What were you- Where were you?” She finally asked. Her eyes had begun to gloss over and you could see her bottom lip tremble. 

You picked at the edge of the table with your nail, head faced down as you spoke. “Here. I’ve been here this whole time.” 

“Why?” Zhezhi asked. There was a desperation in her voice that you found all too familiar.

You tried your best to keep a composed expression but you couldn’t help but glare at her a little. “You know why, Zhezhi.” 

Your words made her slump in her seat. She of all people should’ve recognized the signs. So, why didn’t she see it coming?

“How come you didn’t tell me? I would’ve-“ she stopped upon seeing you turn your head to hide your teary eyes from Zhezhi— “I would’ve helped you.” 

It was sick really, like twisting a knife in an already paralyzed back, how easily Zhezhi spoke those words as if they were true. They weren’t. You knew better than to believe a word she had said. It wasn’t necessarily that she was a liar, rather that you were never all in when it came to trusting people. Why would someone be kind when being cruel was so much easier? 

“Hey, look at me.” Zhezhi asked, her voice as gentle as her touch.

You hesitated for a moment before looking up at her. Upon seeing your face stained with your sorrow she felt her heart twist in pain. Zhezhi had never witnessed you in such a miserable state before. It was as if someone had sucked the light right out of you and hidden it somewhere that never existed. 

“Let me help you.” Zhezhi consoled you. 

On one hand you wanted to put your faith in her. Fuck, you seriously wanted to trust her, but it was the equivalent of pulling each and every one of your teeth out. She’d never done anything to cause this distrust. If anything Zhezhi had been more deserving of your trust than anyone. So, then why was it so fucking difficult? 

You wiped away the stray tears that trailed down your cheeks. “It hurts. Everything hurts and I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

Zhezhi slowly rose from her seat and walked over to your side, wrapping both arms around you as she felt your walls crumble down. She held you even as your tears stained her nice clothes, caressing your hair as you sobbed into her chest. 

She shushed you. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

You really hoped she was right. Half of you wanted to believe her while the other half fought viciously to prove her wrong, but you were tired of fighting. You were sick of fighting the voices, the ache in your chest, and everyone who tried to help you. More than anything you wanted to be free from that torment but you weren’t sure where to even start. Maybe it was too late, you thought for sure it had to be. 

After some time you eventually were able to calm yourself and quiet your cries. Carefully pulling out of Zhezhi’s arms you brushed your hand against the side of her face as you smiled sadly. 

“What am I gonna do, baby?” You whispered as a tear fell down your cheek. 

Zhezhi smiled. Frankly, she wasn’t sure where to start either, but anywhere was but nowhere. 

“We’ll figure it out together. Okay?” Zhezhi reassured you.

“But-“ you interjected but were quickly cut off by Zhezhi kissing you.

The kiss was deep and gentle. Your hands clung to her arms and you leaned in to get closer to her just moments before Zhezhi pulled away. 

“What if.. What if I stayed with you for a while? Just till you’re feeling better.” Zhezhi suggested. Her heartbeat started to race. 

You smiled and had begun to cry, but this time it was happy tears. “I think that sounds like a good idea, but uh.. I should clean my house first.” 

You looked away from Zhezhi, embarrassed by the current state of your home. 

Zhezhi turned your chin gently so that you were forced to look into her eyes. “I’ll help.” She said.

You wanted to protest and for a second you opened your mouth to do just that, but Zhezhi was quick to intervene.

“You don’t need to do everything on your own. We’ll do this together.” She reassured you. 

You felt an unfamiliar feeling blossom across your chest as Zhezhi reached out for your hand and gently squeezed it. Even you couldn’t help but admit that the thought of someone helping you was relieving. Maybe, it would be a beneficial change. Perhaps, this is where things will start to turn up, you thought. 

You nodded. “Okay, together.” 

The both of you exchanged genuine smiles before you leaned in and kissed Zhezhi. And for the first time in a long time you had hope. 

[hydrangeapartridge]

Title: Mind Body and Soul

Pairing: Mage!Shinsou x reader

I wrote for Shinsou again! Link to AO3 here

Summary: Once upon a time there was you: a nobody, a refugee from a country devastated by Dabi’s undead army, serving as a maid in king Todoroki’s castle. There, fate decided you would cross path with the mysterious and dreaded court mage Hitoshi Shinsou. Little did you know that particular encounter would change your life forever.

Rating: M

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy - Romance - teacher student relationship if you squint but no age gap - AFAB reader - ritual with mildly dubious consent - Strangers to Lovers

Chapter 1 : The Apprentice (under the cut!)

You cursed under your breath as you dragged your heavy bucket of water and mop through the seemingly never-ending stairs of the castle’s highest tower. Though you weren’t the youngest, as the most freshly arrived servant of the Todoroki royal palace, you were left with the most ungrateful chores. One of them being the weekly cleaning of the court mage’s quarters. For all their posh attitude, some of the nobles were positively disgusting, and cleaning their rooms made you nauseous. But Mage Shinsou’s quarters were different. They weren’t as dirty as they were messy. Piles of books and parchments littered every furniture, making it impossible to dust the space. And given you were forbidden to touch anything, your cleaning could be reduced to mopping the floor.

But to do so, you had to climb those damn stairs. Hence why the other servants always let you clean that particular corner of the castle. As well as being lazy, your colleagues were also quite afraid of the court mage. Rumour had it that mage Shinsou devoted himself to terrible experiments, hidden in the secrecy of his private laboratory. You once overheard some recruits say the clumsiest young maids and soldiers were sent to him, never to be seen again. His old master, who betrayed the king and cursed his wife long ago turned out to be an evil necromancer, who delved into the darkest kind of forbidden magic. Why the king then kept his apprentice as his new court mage was a mystery. But one thing was sure: Shinsou was as dangerous as he was recluse. He kept to himself and his researches, only ever appearing during official events where his presence was absolutely required. The rest of his time he spent locked up in his tower, working on shady projects.

You considered yourself lucky that you never crossed path with him. He probably avoided the cleaning staff, and it was perfectly fine by you.

Once you finally arrived at the top of the stairs, you took a minute to catch your breath. The door to Shinsou’s office was opened, as usual, and you entered without knocking. As always, he wasn’t there.

You were allowed to clean his office, and only his office. The three attached rooms were private, and no staff member was permitted to enter them. You sighed as you spotted a few spiderwebs hanging from the numerous shelves and bookcases filling the room’s walls. Ignoring the dusty books and spilled inkwells, you started energetically mopping the floor. The sooner you were done, the better.

You didn’t like the heavy atmosphere of Shinsou’s quarters. The room felt stuffy from not enough ventilation, and the whole place inexplicably gave you the chills. It felt haunted; like you could feel traces of the atrocities that took place there, from his or his former master’s doing. Whenever inside this particular room, you felt observed, followed. This feeling of insecurity often settled deep into your gut; whenever you found yourself some place that was unfamiliar, but here, it was particularly strong, more intense than anywhere else. You were always eager to leave.

A cracking sound coming from the large oak door at the back of the room made you jump. You quickly turn around only to find said door shut, like always. You eyed the complex drawings of runes and magical symbols carved into the dark wood of the door. Some days, you swore you saw them glow. Other days, you thought you heard them sing. A mere product of your imagination of course; none of it was real. You just listened a little bit too much to the rumours about this place.

Once you were done scrubbing the floor, you squeezed your mop dry and picked your bucket, hurried to leave. As you made your way to the opened door, you caught a shimmer coming from the mage’s desk. There was a noise too, like a whisper, barely audible. A shiver ran down your spine, like a warning, but curiosity had you turn your head towards the desk. There, you saw that the mage’s usually clear crystal ball had filled with a thin string of light blue smoke. The smoke twirled, spiralled and coiled as it got bigger and bigger, progressively filling the whole crystal sphere. You were mesmerized by the movement of it, unable to look away from the beauty of the turquoise sparks that sometimes shone through the growing cloud inside it. You didn’t hear your bucket drop to your feet, for its noise was covered by the melody singing in your ears. Words whispered in a language unknown to you filled your head, the voice uttering them becoming louder and louder. You couldn’t understand it, but you could feel its intent, its power. You took a step closer, then another one. The smoke now an intense blue seemed agitated, like it was trying to push against the crystal walls of its spheric prison. Its movement became harsher the closer you came, the noise in your ears turning into an acute ringing. Despite the warning signs, despite the strong wind that started to blow in your hair, you continued to step forward, hypnotised by the sphere and its content; lulled by its appealing call. Your hand rose up without your consent, and once the very tip of your index finger made contact with the crystal ball, it shattered, falling apart into millions of tiny glass shards.

The sharp pain in your finger made you come back to yourself. In front of you, the blue smoke continued to expand until it grew twice your size. Still twirling, it started forming a vaguely human shape, and soon, you were faced with a giant creature, seemingly human of face and torso, but with a string of smoke where its legs should be. The creature smiled at you, revealing sharp white fangs that matched its long claw like fingers.

“Thank you for freeing me mage” The creature’s cavernous voice iced your blood. You watched it bow, paralysed by fear. “How can I serve you?”

“I-I am no mage” You stammered defensively, voice high pitched and squeaky, hoping the creature would forget about you.

Hearing your answer, the creature eyed you more intently, from head to toe. Slit golden pupils in a see of black pierced through you, like they could read into your very soul and your injured hand came closer to your chest as if it could protect you. The creature’s grin widened, unnatural and ghastly.

“Foolish little one, you should have known better than to free a Djinn without being warded”

You gasped for air, panic seizing you when you felt something block your airway. It was like an invisible hand was strangling you. You tried to fight against the strength binding you, your hands coming to your neck only to helplessly claw at thin air.

“Your young unmarred soul looks delicious little one” The djinn chuckled, its hold on you getting stronger by the minute.

Your feet were forcefully lifted from the ground and the creature’s face came closer to yours while your strength started to abandon you. Tears ran down your face, blurring your vision and dark spots filled the corner of your eyes as you started to lack oxygen. You were about to die. You were about to die eaten by an evil spirit.

The Djinn laughed darkly, visibly amused by your suffering “As much as I like to eat slowly, for you I will try to be quick and painless. Consider it a reward for freeing me” He mocked, then opened its gory mouth.

You were unable to scream and only felt an extreme coldness overwhelm you as you closed your eyes and drew your final breath.

“YOU WILL UNHAND HER”

The booming voice echoing from everywhere around you made your eyes snap open. The hold on you was released and the next moment your body was projected to the nearby wall and you landed against the stone in a thud. The impact made you gasp and despite the burning pain in your lower back, you took a few greedy gulps of fresh air. You massaged your neck while trying to orientate yourself, your eyes darting everywhere to find your saviour.

In the middle of the room, facing the Djinn, was a tall lean man in violet robes. He was standing firmly, almost proudly before the creature, his lavender hair dishevelled, like he just got out of bed.

“Ah… a properly warded one” You heard the Djinn click its tongue before it addressed the man in front of him. “Mage, you I cannot touch, but this unguarded one I can lay claim on by the laws of the Otherworld”

“You will do no such thing” The mage severely replied, his purple gaze intense, his voice bearing a supernatural echo. “for she is of my kind, and is as such under my protection”

Although a lot smaller than the Djinn, he looked intimidating, and the creature frowned just as you did upon hearing his words.

The spirit turned to you, angry “I see no claim on her!” It growled, baring its deadly teeth. But the mage didn’t falter.

“She vowed to be bound to me before sunset on this precise day” He declared before he turned to you, addressing you slightly more softly. “Did you not?”

It took you a second to understand he awaited an answer from you, and impatiently, he repeated himself, albeit more coldly, his voice regaining its deep echo. “Did you not?”

His words felt like an electroshock that rang and stung deep inside you. “I did” You uttered, feeling breathless from the intensity of it.

Seemingly satisfied, the mage turned back to the Djinn “So it is decided, before the old spirits and the new”

The creature let out an enraged shriek that almost made you faint. You slammed your hands against your ears, while the mage stood unbothered before the wrath of the spirit.

“Shall that vow be broken, I would come back for the both of you” The creature warned menacingly, its head mere inches from the mage’s impassive face. Smoke started coming out of the Djinn’s opened maw, filling the room with a foul odour that burned your eyes and your throat.

“As you should. Now be gone son of Marid.” The mage ordered, unaffected by the heavy smoke he was breathing.

You blinked, and the blue creature of nightmares was gone.

The mage, that you knew to be Shinsou, turned to you, his amethyst eyes cold as stone. From where you knelt before him, you discovered his features more precisely than before. His face was pale, almost sickly so, betraying how little time he spent outside in the sun. Under his eyes, there were dark circles, proof that he spent more time engrossed in his research than sleeping. Yet, despite his ill-looking complexion, you found him to be a rather handsome man, with refined traits, and soft looking hair; far from the monster the rumours made you imagine.

You opened your mouth, about to apologize for touching his crystal ball and thank him for saving you. But before you could speak, he started yelling at you.

“Idiot girl. I thought you servants knew better than to touch any of my belongings!”

You shut your mouth, feeling your cheeks heat up under his scolding. His reprimanding tone set a boiling anger ablaze inside you. You were so scared back there facing that monstrous creature; he didn’t need to yell at you to make you regret what you did.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t let dangerous artefacts lying around where anyone can fall prey to them!” You replied harshly.

A look of surprise crossed the mage’s features, but his own anger didn’t recede. “It is not my fault if clumsy servants can’t help but drop-”

“I didn’t drop it! I barely touched it and it exploded!” You retorted, offended.

“What?” This time the mage looked even more surprised. He frowned, glaring at you. “Don’t lie to me little one, or I will let that Djinn feed on you”

You gasped, outraged. How dare he threaten you after what you just went through?

“I’m telling the truth.” You insisted, jaw clenched in anger. “I didn’t drop it”

Shinsou’s eyes narrowed and he asked more calmly, slowly, but without any warmth to his tone. “Alright. I will ask one last time” His amethyst gaze dove deep into yours, and just like before with the turquoise smoke, you couldn’t look away. “Did you drop it?”

His voice echoed inside your head and your tongue suddenly felt loose. You immediately replied “I didn’t drop it” the words neutral in tone, like they were escaping you.

Shinsou looked away, and you fell to your knees. You didn’t realize it but you had tilted your bust towards him while he spoke.

“Then you are gifted… but it would mean you escaped the trials ...” You heard him mutter, looking out of the room’s single window, his long fingers pensively caressing his chin. Something caught his eye outside, and suddenly, he stopped his introspection and started pacing around the room, gathering different supplies from the overflowing shelves.

“The sun will soon set. We must proceed with the ritual” He told you. “Get up”

Your achy joints and muscles protested as you tried your best to stand up. He repeated himself, hurrying you to stand, and suddenly your body obeyed. One second you bolted upright but the next you felt the need to support yourself on the nearby stonewall. Still, you managed to get on your two feet, your legs still wobbly. “I thought what you said earlier was a trick to make the spirit leave” You weakly remarked.

“Of course it was a trick to save your life” Shinsou replied, rolling his eyes and sighing like he was dealing with a particularly stupid person. “But we must proceed with the bonding ritual, just as we vowed to. Words are binding, it is one of the first laws of magic” He explained as he started drawing on the floor with a small white chalk bar. “Unlike humans, spirits of the Otherworld cannot be lied to. When you promise something to them, it is your soul you put at stakes”

You watched him draw, amazed at how easily he traced a perfect circle. Once he was done, he stood in the middle of the runes, an old dusty book held in one hand, and a knife with an ornamented gold handle in the other.

“Now come stand with me in the circle. This won’t take long but we must hurry” He urged you, motioning you to come closer with the hand that held the knife.

The whole idea wasn’t too reassuring, and you hesitated. You didn’t know this man, didn’t know anything about magic and what it could do. Sure he saved you, but that didn’t mean you could trust him. For all you knew he could be taking advantage of the situation to use you for one of his experiments.

Seeing your hesitation, Shinsou insisted. “I know this is very sudden and I wish I could explain more” His features softened, and then you realized he was probably much younger than you first imagined. “Ultimately it is your choice. But it either comes to this” He tilted his head towards the circle. “Or suffering an extremely painful death having your soul eaten by that Djinn”

His voice was shaking with haste, and another emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. He said you had a choice, but your felt like you didn’t. The answer was clear, if you wanted to live, you had to trust him.

You stepped into the magic circle, and Shinsou immediately took your left hand. Inspecting it, his eyes stopped on the blood still dripping from your fingertip, where you touched the crystal ball and cut yourself.

He balanced his opened book inside his elbow, and used the knife to inflict the same type of cut upon his own finger. He then put the knife away.

The sight of blood made you flinch; from your basic knowledge of magic, spells bound in blood were associated to darker types of magic, often forbidden ones. Shinsou caught your wrist again, keeping you inside the circle as its contours started to glow white.

“I know this is scary, but now that it is started, the ritual cannot be stopped” He gave you a warning glare before he turned back to his book and started reading from it.

“Blood of my Blood, Bone of my Bone, I give you my Body; that we Two might be One. I give you my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done. I give you my Soul; so Forever we’ll Always find Each-other. You are now mine as I am yours. Together we shall walk, on this world, and the Other”

The words of the incantation felt weird to your ear. Graver than a promise to protect should sound. Magic was all about grandiloquence it seemed, and soon, a strong wind blew through yours and Shinsou’s hair, whistling so loudly you could barely hear the rest of the incantation. Shinsou looked up from his book and brought your hand closer to his. He pressed his wounded finger to yours, mixing your blood with his. The gesture made you wince in pain and in disgust.

“And so in blood the deal is sealed” He declared, that weird echo returning to his voice. Once the last word was spoken, the wind stopped as quickly as it came, and the circle lost its silver glowing hue.

The room was darker than before the ritual, and you realized that outside, the sun had set.

“You are safe now” Shinsou told you blankly as he stepped out of the circle, breaking it with the tip of his boot. His expression was neutral, unreadable, but he looked even more fatigued than before.

He put his supplies away and then silently shoved a white embroidered handkerchief in your hand, for your bleeding finger.

You pressed the fabric to your wound while curiously watching the mage roam around the room, visibly looking for something.

“Well, thank you I suppose” You started, slowly backing away to the door. That was enough emotion and magic for one night, and you desperately wanted to put your sore body to rest. “I shall be going then. I wish you to have a good night” You awkwardly added, turning on your heels to leave while the mage was busy.

“You won’t be going anywhere” Shinsou’s strict voice stopped you dead in your tracks. You desperately wanted to leave, but his words demanded a reaction from you.

When you looked back over your shoulder, you saw a strange ray of light coming from your back and travelling in a straight line to an object that Shinsou had found in the mess he called his office. Or maybe it was the other way around, given the orb Shinsou was holding out shone bright of that same purple hue that lit up your back as if someone put a target right in the middle of it.

The corner of Shinsou’s mouth lifted up in a smirk that meant nothing good.

“Fellow mage. As of this day, I declare you my apprentice”

[monstersandmaw]

I am unreasonably excited for this stardew fic im hearing about 👀 (also seb, my love- i always end up romancing him)

Thank you! In all my playthroughs (maybe five before this one, lol) I've never romanced anyone. This one (which inspired this story) I decided to romance and marry Seb :).

The story is gonna feature a lot of the game and setting as inspiration, but I'm going to edit the mechanics a bit so it's less contrived, and there are gonna be more supernatural elements and folks at play... :). And an affectionate, fwb situation with Elliott before the end-game Sebastian romance, just a heads up.

Since you were kind enough to reach out about it, here's a 1400 word WIP sneak peek of Rowan, my gruff, buff werewoof farmer:

(CW: standoffish, loner character with scars on his neck from a werewolf bite, passing mention of a werewolf attack at night that nearly killed him)

This run-down, wild farm, with its endless tangle of fairytale brambles arcing around the roots of maple and oak trees, and its overgrown ponds full of frogs and flowering water weeds, was beyond perfect.

Of course, Rowan knew next to nothing about organic vegetable farming, but that was a problem for another day.

Mayor Lewis dithered on the top step a moment longer before taking his leave with Robin and heading back up the rutted path towards the town. Apparently Rowan had been taciturn enough to drive the chatty old man away, and something about him had evidently unnerved Robin a little. Maybe it was the mess of scars on his throat. He didn’t much care. If it meant they left him alone, so much the better. He wasn’t sure that anyone but Robin in her off-road pickup could make it comfortably along the winding drive to the farm anyway, and it was a miracle that the old man hadn’t toppled into a pothole or a ditch on his way over.

Rowan watched them leave together, deliberately ignoring their nattering gossip about him, which carried easily enough on the spring air to his sharp ears, and he felt something new prickle down his spine. It wasn’t even close to the full moon — he’d made damned sure of that before booking his one-way ticket to the sleepy little valley — but something about this place set the wolf in him prowling. He realised with a jolt that his wolf liked this new territory, with its fresh air and cacophonous birdsong. Where he’d been fractious and aggressive in the city, prone to lashing out when he felt the least bit cornered or trapped, now his wolf was practically bounding on the spot to explore his new territory and claim it as his own, and Rowan recoiled from the idea.

“I am not an animal,” he snarled at himself.

He thought that after bearing the curse for a year, he should have been far more accustomed to the feeling of there being a whole new part of himself inside his own head, or in his heart. And yet, noticing that the way he was feeling was largely because of the wolf, and not his human side, still freaked him the fuck out.

He turned back to the front door of the tumbledown cabin where his grandfather had lived until he’d had to go into care five years earlier, and immediately put his boot through the rotten boards of the veranda with a curse and another snarl. A small family of mice skittered away beneath the house, their pungent smell rising through the new hole to his sensitive nose, and he sighed. “Still not alone, even out here.”

Although the moon was only halfway to full, and against his better judgement, Rowan did let the shift sweep over him a few nights later, and as he sloughed off the complex trappings of his human life and sank his claws delightfully into the velvet-soft dirt, he patrolled the perimeter of the farm where his human self had spent his first week in Stardew Valley clearing weeds and setting up his first organic vegetable beds.

His wolf didn’t think about the uppity shopkeeper in the general store or the awkward blacksmith who’d smelled of a nauseous cocktail of discomfort, anxiety and axle grease, or the harried-looking man in a tweed jacket who’d smelled of coffee and antiseptic. His wolf lowered its head to the ground and inhaled the scents of rabbit and squirrel. It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or saddened to find no trace of wolves — shifter or otherwise — in the area, but seemed to settle for relieved as he slunk like a deeper shred of shadow from the porch of the farmhouse and bounded off into the dark to explore the place with the new, golden eyes of a wolf in place of the slightly blurry, hazel eyes of a human.

A rockfall in the cliffs behind the wreckage of the greenhouse had exposed a damp cave some years ago, though it smelled of bat guano and little else to interest a wolf. He let it be. Trotting eagerly on, the wolf relished the decadent flex and stretch of its powerful muscles, and the bliss of being able to shift whenever the fancy took him was enough to make him tilt his head to the sky and howl his ecstasy at the silent stars.

Rowan knew that being bitten and turned, and dumped unknowingly into the secret world of the supernatural, had taken its toll on him.

His sanity had been right on the ragged edge when he’d come across that forgotten letter from his grandfather in a desk drawer. After a year of trying to hold the remnants of his miserable life in the city together, of slinking down into an old storm drain on the edge of an abandoned industrial estate every full moon, to cage and contain his frustrated, furious wolf, Rowan had known he had to get out of the city. Permanently. It was messing with his wolf and he was losing more of his awareness to it with each passing full moon. He’d also started zoning out at his desk at work and coming-to with claws out and the wolf prowling right beneath his yellow-eyed facade of calm, even halfway through the cycle. The constant clacking of keyboards, the shrill, metallic ringing of office telephones, and the stink of leftover lunches from the cubicle next door to his was going to make him snap. Violently.

Part problem and part gift, his wolf existed purely in the ‘now’. There was no painful past; no human lying abandoned and bleeding and irrevocably changed on the rain-soaked tarmac of a grotty bus station; no human who’d drifted out of touch with his one surviving family member; no bills overdue and no landlord to keep happy. There was only the scent of moss and emerging spring grass and last year’s fallen pine cones, and the echo of a fox’s passing trail across the land which was now his territory.

Rowan’s wolf followed its nose down to the lower pond and lapped luxuriantly at the rich, cool water. His ears drew back and another thrill of delight ran down the length of his body as the sweet, wholesome taste of the water exploded across his tongue; he could detect none of the pollution and chemicals of the city water, just fresh spring that bubbled up from the depths of the earth, carrying with it the minerals and magic of the place.

Yes, this place had magic in abundance.

His grandfather had married a witch, so magic had been in Rowan’s blood already before he’d been mutilated by a lone werewolf at three in the morning in a filthy, city bus station. Perhaps that had been why a bite that messy had taken when it would have killed most people. He prayed he never met his monstrous sire, because he knew he’d rip his fucking head off for ruining his life and turning him into a slathering, near-mindless monster once a month. It was probably only by sheer, dumb luck that he hadn’t been killed by hunters, or killed someone himself by accident, and it had only been by the grace and patience of a blue-haired witch named Mercury that he’d even known what was happening to him in the first place. He shuddered to think where he’d have been without her.

A figure moved in the darkness at the edge of the trees on the southern-most reaches of his property and his lips drew back into a snarl.

“Easy, Rowan,” came a resonant, bass voice, and he froze, tilting his head, ears pricked. He recognised that voice, but couldn’t place it. For answer, he just growled a warning. “Easy,” came the voice a second time. “Rowan MacTavish, I am not here to hurt you. It is I, Rasmodius.”

At the sound of his full name on the still night air, Rowan’s whole body shivered, but the wolf let go of his mind a little. Thought came to him just a little easier. Rasmodius. That was the name of the wizard in the tower. Rowan blinked his golden eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“May I approach?”

He whined and ended the sound in a soft sneeze. Close enough to a petulant ‘fine’, he supposed.

___

(more soon, hopefully, if there's interest :3)

[sunflowergraves]

Will Character Analysis: Panic Attacks

I did a breakdown of Will's character a few weeks ago after my first read-through of TSATS. I went back and reread the book (mostly because I'm obsessed), and I noticed something that I don't think a lot of people picked up on. Will was having panic/anxiety attacks throughout the course of the book.

I think this is extremely important to recognize because it gives us a better understanding of why Will was reacting the way he was during the entire quest. It also answers some questions that I previously had.

As someone who has severe anxiety and suffers from panic/anxiety attacks, it makes complete sense that Will would also. He is forced into uncomfortable and challenging situations that he can't control. He feels useless and incompetent, especially when it comes to helping his boyfriend. And he already felt lonely, scared, and unsure before they even started. Combine all that with overstimulation and stress and you've got yourself a great recipe for mental disaster.

If you don't want TSATS spoilers, I suggest stop reading here. I'm going to provide some examples from the book to help me out. This will also be pretty long tbh lol.



The Subway Ride:

As they were leaving the station, Nico asked Will to stop shaking his leg (an anxious habit). Soon after this, Nico noted that Will had closed his eyes and started using a breathing technique. He also said that Will did this often to calm down and decided to leave his boyfriend alone.

Breathing techniques are a very common way to help prevent an attack or calm them down. I've had it drilled into my head that breathing techniques are one of the first things to do when I feel overly anxious/upset.  

As a healer, Will most likely knows about these and uses them to help keep calm. He had just experienced a very stressful taxi ride (which he is described as clinging to the seatbelt for dear life) and is now on a train to start his journey to Tartarus. I'd be freaking out too.



The Trog Tunnels:

The second time Will exhibited an attack was when they were crawling through the tunnels with the Trogs to get to Menoetius farm. Will was complaining about feeling closed in and felt like the tunnel would collapse. He also started feeling nauseous, woozy, and forgetful. The second they left the tunnel, Will immediately needed to rest. He kept his eyes closed and felt better once he had a minute to breath.

These are all symptoms of a panic/anxiety attack. While symptoms definitely range based on the severity of an attack, the most common ones are dizziness, nausea, and brain fog. This is because your brain is tricked into thinking what is happening is a life-or-death situation. It's pumping adrenaline into your body, but there's nothing happening physically to you. This leaves you with a body filled with energy and a mind screaming with chaos.

The only way to really stop these attacks is to sit down somewhere you feel comfortable (literally anywhere but a tunnel in Will's case) and calm yourself down.



The Tartarus Argument:

The fourth example is the argument Will and Nico had after the whole pigeon fiasco. The power of anxiety leads you into overthinking and what was Will doing? He believed that Nico was going to abandon him and that he deserved it. He was 100% convinced of this despite Nico's very stubborn loyalty trait. Will literally broke down in gasping sobs, unable to think of anything but being left behind.

Will had been facing attack after attack since this moment that he finally just broke. When faced with doubt and fear and panic towards the one he loves, towards the person he trusts, coming back from that brink is almost impossible.



Tartarus:

Will was basically in a constant state of panic during the entire Tartarus trip. He was pale, shaky, loopy, and irritated. The rational brain train had left the station and it was not coming back.





As a fellow struggler of anxiety and attacks, I'm glad they added this side of anxiety, even if it was never explicitly stated. I believe that it was purposeful that both authors didn't state that Will was having attacks because it is a sensitive and heavy topic that is hard to discuss, especially when they were covering a bunch of other bases.

The main reason I wanted to make this though was again to drive him the point that Will was not a whiny, weak-spined character. He was struggling with his own anxiety and fears which drove him to act the way he did. I always see people preaching the importance of supporting others, yet my dash is filled with angry, hateful comments towards a character that is meant to represent people like me.