#i just need to know if this is a symptom of her body finally shutting down of if she just needs antibiotics

[bluesey-182]

the vet today really tried to talk me into paying $600 for the same service they provided for my mom and her dog a few months ago for under $100

[penvisions]

one fish, two fish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Your day seems to be turning around for the better and you certainly don't expect for the night to end the way that it is. Maybe this is the start of things to finally settle into place, you can only hope.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, mentions of reader getting ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, reader and frankie finally talk things through, alcohol consumption, illusions to traumatic event involving fire / explosions, illusions to helicopter wreck in the movie, illusions to canon death, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, triple frontier boys, descriptions of both frankie and santi as romantic interests, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: um hi ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie morales masterlist || navigation

Panic grips Frankie, reminding him of the time he had been stranded in the middle of a field beside a smoking and wrecked chopper, the crash landing he had tried to avoid becoming their new reality. They had been stranded, all five of them, with far too much money pulling taught the netting beneath the vehicle. He had tried his best, to get them to the coast, to get them home. But he had failed, the feeling all too real as he watches with a thudding heart the way you careen down the aisle away from him in the middle of a grocery store with a pinched expression.

“Daddy, why did she run away? I wanted to talk to her!”

“Maybe she was just in a hurry, mija.” He knows it’s bad to lie, especially to his daughter, but the truth is something he himself isn’t too clear on at the moment. He tries not to dwell on the way he hadn’t had the courage to reach out, a couple weeks ago now when you had let him know your phone was repaired and working once again.

He was a cowardly idiot, that’s the only reason he concluded with confidence.

Later that evening, once Cecila was snuggled in her bed with the blankets tucked in around her growing body did he allow himself the chance to sit out on his porch and let his thoughts consume him. He had no reason truly, why he hadn’t responded. The day getting away from him, work calling his attention as a routine check on an engine turned into a full-blown repair as a belt had snapped, too worn from the excessive trips into the air and idling along the runway as students learned out to operate the aerial vehicle. He had showered and thrown himself atop the bed that night after tending to his daughter, no thoughts for the phone still stored in the front pocket of his pants crumpled on the floor.

The next day it had been much the same; the outline for his day tedious but thankfully predictable with teaching, instructing, lecturing, testing, repairing. For nearly five hours until he had been able to catch his breath and take a few bites of something Will had been able to bring over, knowing how overwhelmed he was, how stretched thin he was.

He had no reason other than his own life was barely managed, as to why he hadn’t reached out. Another layer to it was how sleezy he would feel, he met you at a meeting for fuck’s sake. You obviously had been seeking out a lifeline of your own, something to cling to in the low moments. His evening routine of sitting in silence on his porch seemed to be his only respite as of late. The pack of menthol cigarettes he keeps hidden from his daughter taken out once the door to her bedroom shuts. The flick of the lighter almost Pavlovian in the way he eases some of the tension in his shoulders.

The overwhelming feeling of turning to the pills or the powder or the needles that once meant salvation no longer an option. A new need to be better, to do better. And who was he to provide better for you? When he couldn’t even approach you in a friendly enough air to sooth your worries in that moment. At the meeting he was the orchestrator of. He’s by no means a sponsor, but he does hold a bit of authority in the local community. An ear for those too shy to share during meetings, a wealth of information for those seeking it, someone who always plays a part in the annual picnics and events. A family man with no family of his own, save for his friends who give too much of themselves to him even now that their feet are back on US soil.

There’s no space for him in his life, let alone another person who deserves everything and anything. He couldn’t give that to you, the hours spent in the diner already a welcome strain on the one night he had to himself a week. He had given it up for you, your distress at his hand and actions too much for him to handle and not feel like he needed to fix, alter, repent for. Your smile had been shy at first, but oh, when it had bloomed fully before him in the bright lights of the diner? He knew he would give what little of himself was left in order to see it again.

That in itself sounded warning bells inside his head, it was surely to become another vice he would cling to in low moments. But unlike white powder or scored pills, you would were something someone to let down even as he clung to you. Pursuing you would only create more problems, not alleviate any that already plagued him. So he made the decision to keep his head down, work through the strain of being short-staffed at his job, to focus on his daughter. To let his own needs for something more idle and be shoved into the back of his mind along with thoughts of you.

He was okay, Cecilia was okay, their life was good if a bit hectic. If a bit lonely. He would survive, and he’s sure you would too without him complicating things for the both of you.

Frankie tried to be a good man, too many past deeds reminding him of why he felt the need to find repentance and be better. Should he cross paths with you again out in public, he would apologize. Offer to take you to the meeting he had scared you away from. Introduce you to the others, integrate you into the group. As a friend, as a fellow addict, as…a friend. And nothing more. It’s the least he could do if you deign to give him the time of day.

Sighing, he rubs a rough hand over his face, palm catching on his scruff and reminding him he needs to trim it. His grays are visible no matter how short it is, beginning to shine through the dark brown. He was about to get up from his spot in the whicker chair to do something about it, but he feels rooted in his spot. Legs heavy and torso leaned back into the cradle of the chair. His feet are bare, his cut off shorts made from an old pair of sweatpants allowing for him to feel the cool breeze as the evening progresses.

It's nice out. He brings another cigarette to his lips and lights it, smiling softly as the sound of your soft laughter echoes in his ears.

Santiago is rather nicer than Frankie had initially been, though there was no underlying current of mutual attraction. At least, that’s what you were trying to tell yourself, tamping down on the way the man’s eyes would sparkle when they caught both natural and artificial light. The way his curls beautiful and nearly completely steel grey looked effortlessly soft and pliable for wandering hands to tangle in. He was handsome, as you originally thought, but it was his kindness and thoughtfulness that was cementing him in your thoughts.

So unlike the snub of Frankie’s affections after that first night of actually talking to him, that night of the diner where you had thought there would be more just like it. Before you had found out that he had kept the revelation of him being a parent from you, something that hadn’t been mentioned during those long hours you had sat and spoke with him, held his hand and shared in easy laughter. Not that he owed you the truth, you suppose, because for all intents and purposes he was still just a stranger to you. A chance encounter and a lovely night of shared company that was more a memory now than anything.

The sting of his silence and then half-assed explanation and excuses had faded over the last few weeks.

Until he exited out from the truck of his friend that Santiago had called to help tow yours. There was a mechanic shop just next door to the gym one of his other friends owned, something about one of them having worked there or knew the person who operated it and would be able to get you a decent deal that wouldn’t break the bank or your resolve to make this city work.

“Fish! Didn’t expect you to be off work already.” Santiago crowds the man, arms going around his shoulders and a few loud claps of his hand on his back before they part. You see a flash of the smile that had been aimed at you over a low table only once before and your heart skips a beat even as it disappears. Frankie’s eyes land on you and you suddenly feel exposed. The bare skin of your arms blooming with goosebumps despite the warm evening air.

“Can’t believe it myself.” The two men embrace, hands slapping and then Santigo is engulfing you in a side embrace of your own. His eyes catch yours briefly, as if signaling that the next words out of his mouth were genuine.

“Been pretty long days lately. But this one needed some help, and who am I to deny her that?”

It’s quiet for a beat, Santiago looking between you and Frankie who suddenly don’t seem to be on talking terms, while Will beckons you over to ask a few questions about the front bumper. The conversation of whether or not it’s able to handle towing and what kind of issue is going on fades as you both round the front of vehicle.

“Hey,” The older man whispers, sidling up to his friend. “Thought you said you two smoothed things over?”

“We did….until I never texted her back and she ran into me and Ceci at the market.” Frankies large hand rubs at the back of his neck, curls greasy from work. He’s sure he doesn’t look too great, tired from the long day and caught off guard that the ‘friend’ Santiago needed a hand helping out turned out to be you. How did he even know you? He had only ever briefly met you at the bar, all those nights ago. Had only ever been mentioned to the man in passing, not willing to admit to selfishly and cowardly ignoring you for weeks now.

“…you didn’t say anything about that. I take it you hadn’t quite yet told her you’ve got a lil one, then, huh?”

“She nearly knocked into an endcap display once she saw it was me.” Stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his khakis, he shrugs his aching shoulders. Trying not to look too hurt by the way his heart had clenched at the reaction. It hadn’t been great but he had deserved it. He knows he did, he hadn’t been fair to you.

“Shit, Fish. That’s…I thought you said you liked her?” Santiago furrowed his brows and looked at Frankie straight on, not giving the man any space to avert his gaze. He was being a good friend, but he was also sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Liking her ain’t the problem, it’s finding time for her. Which I don’t even have for myself right now.”

“Well, now you’ll have time. Gonna set her up with Will for work, fill that open position for a secondary mechanic they’ve got on the base.” Before he could respond one way or another, Santiago was clapping him on the back and walking over to where Will was just pulling on the chains to ensure they were secure.

Fucking- of course he would end up being in proximity to you. Every detail of your hours long conversation rolled around his head. You would definitely get the job, your background and experience exactly what the base was looking for.

The only issue is that meant he would see you on nearly a daily basis and he’s already botched meeting you for the first time and second…he needed to clear the air. Even if it was going to be difficult to articulate the reasoning behind his actions. You deserve it, to not question in the back of your mind the endless possibilities of what had happened. If you even thought of him, if you even cared at this point.

No thoughts of other than making things right, for the sake of potentially working together and seeing the way you interact with his friends. They like you, an invitation for drinks offered for later.

A short drive down a few blocks and you find yourself standing in a nearly empty parking lot of a gym called ‘Brass Knuckles’. Frankie, Will, and Santiago were idly chatting, waiting for their friend to close up the gym for the night to walk across the street to the dive bar that was mentioned. He looks a little younger than the rest of them, but not by much. You’ve all lived your earlier years for the country, that much is obvious, in the way you all hold yourselves. The comradery was one of the things you missed the most about being around other people who had served as well. But your contact with much of your squadron had fallen by the wayside as things progressed after the attack that had earned you all an honorable discharge…

Shaking your head, you found yourself sat at a table with them all and they were discussing what to get a pitcher of.

“Any preferences, hermosa?” Santiago nudges his shoulder into yours. “You were drinking an amber the other night, maybe one of those?”

“I stick to those just cause they’re pretty even along the board no matter what city, but just get whatever you all want.” To be honest, you’re a little nervous being around Frankie. Let alone amidst his personal friend group, you didn’t want him to feel like you were imposing. He had made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in you, even if he had tried to smooth things over in the way he had in that rambling voicemail.

It still felt like an invasion, his life his own and something he protected in omitting certain truths.

He keeps glancing at you from across the table and you weren’t sure what to think about him. He had apologized sure, but it seemed that he either feels some sort of obligation to you with all of the mix ups that keep happening or if he truly does wish to extend the hand of friendship. You don’t know him well enough to know which one for certain, thought if you were going off of the man he had been across a dingy table you would have to guess it’s because he was a good person who wanted you to be in his orbit.

“Nah, we’ll get a pitcher of that. And some appetizers to tide everyone over until dinner.” Benny winks at you as he stands and makes his way over to the bar counter.

“Pope here mentioned you’re on the lookout for a service job,” Will meets your eye with a charming smile. “We’ve got openings in Fish’s zone, mechanics and repair work. Don’t have too much in the way of engineering or assembly work, but we do have some instructor roles that need to be filled too. Safety protocol, seminar leaders, stuff like that. What experience do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was an explosives expert, Navy SEAL. Did foreign tours but spent most of my time at the Pearl Harbor base. Have a background in mechanical engineering and weapons instruction. But I’m not sure how much if it is on file now should I be looked up in the system.” It’s a clipped summary though your tone is open and honest, explaining in the simplest way you’ve come to know how to for exactly that question.

Potential jobs, apartment hunting, casual curiosity when using your discount out and about, it was a constant one in your life. Though the specifics of what happened to cause the way you had been ejected from active service more personal, a little heavier and harder to explain. Your keys jangle in your hand, the plastic chip emblazoned with ‘one year’ a grounding feeling in your palm. The cool plastic gives you a little comfort as you sit amongst strangers with similar pasts.

“Did you finish out your contract? The only time information about your skills gets altered is if you take leave before the end of it.”

“I was, um,” Your eyes catch the movement of Benny moving back toward the table, the phantom feel of flames licking at your sides as the room suddenly feels way too hot. “I was honorably discharged. For medical reasons.”

He watches you closely, eyes roving over your exposed arms, taking in the muscles you’ve managed to keep up as best as you could. There was no evidence you had been sick or otherwise that was visible, all of it shielded by your top. The other two men stealthily check you for the same, though you feel Frankie’s gaze more than the others, something underlying his casual concern. “And is everything okay now?”

“Oh, um, yes. It was…” You averted your eyes to the keys in your lap, unable to formulate a polite summary of the reason you had ended up sitting across from him. It was a lot, endless meetings and deep conversations, of yelling and arguing. Of admittance after too much avoidance of the truth. A lot of fault on your shoulders, on those around you, on medical professionals and the circumstances that had begun it all.

“Don’t need the details, if you’re uncomfortable sharing them. We can discuss is further when you come into the base for a “formal” interview, if you think it’ll affect any aspects of the job.” You feel the band of anxiety around your chest relax, the breath you take in expands your lungs instead of feeling stuck in the back of your throat. “How does- what’s today again-?”

“Wednesday, you big oaf.” Benny teases as he returns to the table with a full pitcher of dark beer and a stack of pint glasses nestled into each other.

“So kind and gracious, little brother.” He rolls his eyes as he thinks something over. “Would Friday work for you? Give me the weekend to run your resume and file over with the higher ups and could probably formally offer you something on Monday.”

You find yourself at the table alone with Frankie. His friends gone to the other side of the bar to start a game of pool amongst themselves. Brother against brother with Santiago to moderate.

It’s…awkward to say the least. Apprehensive tension charging the air around you both as you sip on your beer. It’s the second of yours, though Frankie is still on his first.

“Santiago and I ran into each other,” You blurted out, unable to handle the silence. Frankie had been lost in thought, plush lips twitching as he seemed to go over words he thought to say and then changed his mind. His eyes snap up from the foam he was watching slowly disappear in his drink to you across the table. You swallowed down the way your breath stuck in your throat as his eyes met yours. Dark brown that swirled with so much pulling you toward him. “Literally.”

“He’s got impeccable timing.”

“I was having the worst day, but he helped to turn it around.”

“And now you’re sitting here across from the asshole that ghosted you.” His scoff was subdued, but the distaste he felt about himself and the way things played out was obvious.

“I wasn’t trying to say that. I was trying to- you know what, just forget it. This is all so fucking stupid.” You reach for your bag, hands uncurling from around your own drink.  Frustration glowing hot in your chest as he took your words and twisted them. How dare he, you think, reeling from the whiplash of the man’s emotions across from you. You didn’t fault him for feeling things the way he did, but open communication means a lot to you. Honesty means a lot to you and he’s been terrible at both the past few interactions. “You really do know how to make an impression.”

“Shit, wait, please.” The desperation in his voice makes you pause, silent as you wait for him to continue, gauging the wideness to his eyes. He licks at his bottom lip, the pink of his tongue catching your attention far more than you want to admit. “I don’t…I’m not good at…people beyond my small circle.”

“We don’t have to talk like friends, Frankie. But we do have to respect each other as coworkers and share the hangar space if I get this job. If you don’t want to talk to me at all, I can deal with that. We can leave notes on a whiteboard or exchange emails about things that need to get done, no big deal. But I will be damned if whatever happened between us, or lack thereof, affects this opportunity.”

“That’s the last thing I want, Angel.” Frankie’s mouth is a firm line, his hands cupped around his pint glass once again, eyes focused on you and the determination settled in your expression. Almost as if he was grounding himself.

“I wouldn’t ignore you just because of how we met. I…I only regret letting my own shit taint what I thought was a good night after everything had turned around. How I’m letting it fuck this up now, I’m sorry, I know I’m not being the best right now. It’s been a long day, like you said.” You see him pause, one of his hands tensing so much that his knuckles pale. “I can work with you, I’m willing to work with you. We both deserve to do something we’ve got the skills for, I wouldn’t ruin that for you. Believe me.”

“Kinda hard to believe someone who wouldn’t even tell me about their own kid. But hey,” You down the last dredges in your own pint and move to stand up. “I’m just the girl you were trying to make feel welcome after two not so good interactions. You didn’t and don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You deserved the truth.” Frankie agrees, reaching for your arm just as you shoulder the strap to your bag. “You do deserve the truth. Let me- please let me drive you home. I can bring you back tomorrow, talk to Javier, the owner of the shop and get you a deal. I used to work there, I just…I don’t want you to think I didn’t have a good time, that I don’t-it’s me, I’m the problem. Not you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Frankie,” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, a headache forming as the day progresses. You still really just wanted to curl up on your couch with take out. The greasy appetizers doing their best to fill your grumbling stomach, but the call of more food in the comfort of your home was strong. “I have no energy for this right now, my day has been shit. Can we just agree to…start over? We’re adults and I don’t want to dwell on things. Please?”

“Whatever you want, I swear it. Just- one last thing, just hear me out on one last thing and then I’ll shut up about it.”

“What is it, Frankie?” You don’t wave his hand off and he thankfully squeezes it in his grasp before stepping back. His shoulders square and he emphasizes with them when he speaks next, providing you with the answers to questions you had tumbled around in your head for days after your encounter at the grocery store.

“The reason I didn’t tell you about Ceci, my daughter, is because she gets attached to people very easily since her mother left us. I didn’t…it’s a lot to learn that someone you’re interested in has a kid, let alone a clingy one. I didn’t want it to be a deal breaker for you.”

“Kinda moot now, isn’t it?” You can’t help the hint of sarcasm that leaks into your tone, wanting for all the world to move past what if’s and maybe’s of how you first met each other. If you’re going to be working together, it’s better to start off fresh, to start off on a better foothold than the rickety one you two had been sharing up until this point.

He catches the way the corner of your mouth quirks up, the arch of one of your brows as you cross your arms and jut your head a bit to the side. Teasing, you’re teasing him and when he realizes his entire body relaxes.

“I mean, you’re the one who went out of their way to make amends for not one, but two terrible first encounters. So, I think you may have been a little more invested than I was, Mr. Morales.”

“With the way you were smiling and giggling, bet you were just as invested, querida.”

“Shut up and take me home, I need a mountain of Chinese food.” You can’t help the roll of your eyes as he matches your taunts, truly set on making things better and tiding over the insecurities of past interactions and lack there of. It’s tentative, your nerves alight even as a giddiness settles in just beneath your skin. The back and forth, the easy conversation flowing like it had once upon a time.

“I know a good place, we’ll look it up and place a to go order. Pick it up on the way.” He offers, seemingly willing to try and move forward as well. There’s a hesitancy behind his eyes that thaws your lingering anger and annoyance, the hurt that had bloomed from it.

“Yeah? You gonna pick up the tab?” You challenge, stepping closer to him as you do so. The setting of the bar and the chatter of the crowd melt away as he matches your step. He’s only inches away as he rests a hand on the top of the table, his head ducked down to focus on only you. The bill of his hat brushes your forehead and you feel a flash of warmth as the memory of his lips on your cheek suddenly bubbles up.

“Picked it up last time, why would this time be any different?” He’s smirking, the glint of his teeth behind his plush lips spurring butterflies to life in your middle.

God, why was it so easy to forgive him for the misunderstanding? Because now your body was alight with the giddy feeling of connection, just like it had been that night in the diner. You only hoped that you could keep it professional, keep it friendly. And how were you supposed to know that Frankie was wondering the exact same thing? His own mind racing as his heart beats wildly in his chest that things are finally changing and changing for the better.

Off to the side, the three remaining members of your little party are nursing their new pints. The second pitcher set on the table and left for you both as they started a game of pool.

“How much you wanna bet that’s gonna happen by the end of the month?” Benny’s wolfish smile influenced by his joy of games, though it stems from a place of genuine interest and want for his friend to find the happiness he had been lacking in his personal life.

“I bet it’s gonna take them two months, and one of them is gonna mistake it for being overly touchy- feely and back off again.” Santiago rises to the bait and offers his own idea of what will happen. He knows his best friend, the way things tend to play out. His past intertwined with is own. He thinks back on the past few years, since their collective return from South America. The strides they’ve all taken since then to be better, to actually make a difference and not fall victim to the endless cycle of not feeling good enough. Frankie deserved good things, a second chance at finding someone to share his life with, even if the man didn’t personally believe it.

“I think they’re gonna hit it off, become inseparable and then one of them is gonna get jealous that the other got asked out. That’s how these things typically go, don’t they?” Will chalks the end of his pool stick, eyes trained on you two standing far too close to each other and lost in your own little bubble. All three of them smiling and enjoying seeing Frankie truly relaxed for the first time in what feels like years.

“Either way, they have intoxicating energy. Makes me feel like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to.” Santiago claps his hands together before retrieving his phone from his back pocket. “Think it’s time to call my girl and see when her next night off is.”

They watched on as you both seemed to mess around on Frankie’s phone, fingers pointing at each other and easy laughter shared between you both. Mock frowns and the flash of tongues being teasingly stuck out at each other. They wondered what the conversation was, because when they walked away it looked nothing like it did now. Just as the phone is tucked back into a pocket, you’re both waving at the trio as you make your way to the door.

“I’d have that workplace conduct paperwork at the ready, brother. They’re gonna be trouble once they figure everything out, hell, maybe even as they figure everything out.” Shaking his head and chuckling, Will makes a mental note to stick a blank contract in each of your files tomorrow when he gets to work before going back to the game at hand.

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[maaarine]

My PMDD hell: why I went abroad to have my ovaries removed (Sarah Gillespie, The Times, Nov 27 2024)

"For six years, from my late twenties, I have lived with a condition called premenstrual dysphoric disorder, or PMDD.

Due to a genetic quirk, I have a brain sensitivity that makes my body intolerant to its own hormonal changes.

Instead of becoming moody and irritable, as with PMS, I become catatonic and racked with pain.

Dysphoria blooms in my brain, making me depressed and paranoid. I binge on carbohydrates, needing 3,000 calories a day just to function.

This happens for 7-14 days every month, during the latter half of my menstrual cycle, as hormone levels plummet.

On the third day of my period, the fog lifts and I feel normal again. But relief is soon replaced by dread as I survey the destruction.

There are relationships to repair, overdue bills to pay and excess pounds to lose.

It is the life of Sisyphus: every month, I roll the boulder up the mountain only for it to roll down again. (…)

PMDD is surprisingly common and, according to World Health Organisation data, affects 5.5 per cent of women of child-bearing age — about 824,000 women in the UK.

Of these, more than a third have attempted suicide. Yet hardly anyone’s heard of it.

No one knows the cause, either, though scientists generally agree that it’s genetic — hence why psychological therapies can’t fully fix it.

It was only in 2019 that the WHO added PMDD to its international classification of diseases and related health problems (ICD-11), legitimising it as a medical diagnosis (though there are still medical professionals who dispute its existence). (…)

After diagnosis, women with PMDD are put onto a ladder of treatments ranked from least to most invasive.

But as the body ages and hormones become more erratic, PMDD gets progressively worse.

So even when I found a rung on the ladder that worked, I never got to rest there for long.

First, there were lifestyle changes: diet, weight training, high-intensity interval training (HIIT).

Then supplements: chasteberry, evening primrose, magnesium, calcium, L-tryptophan, vitamin B6. Then antidepressants: fluoxetine, sertraline, citalopram.

Then contraceptives: Evra, Yasmin, Eloine. Finally, there was HRT: Utrogestan, Estradot, Estraderm.

I climbed that ladder for five years. Only HIIT and fluoxetine worked, for about nine months each; the rest worked for two months, if at all. (…)

After all this, only one rung was left on the ladder — one with a 96 per cent satisfaction rate, the closest thing to a cure.

This last-resort treatment is a bilateral salpingo oophorectomy: the surgical removal of both ovaries and fallopian tubes.

Upon their removal, all hormone fluctuations would stop, my hormone levels would drop to almost zero and I would enter menopause.

I would need to take hormone replacement therapy (HRT) until my fifties or risk the early onset of osteoporosis, heart disease and dementia. It would also make me infertile. (…)

Getting approved for surgery on the NHS requires a trial period in a reversible “chemical” menopause: monthly injections that would shut down my ovaries, end my suffering and “prove” that I had PMDD.

That was the idea, anyway. Instead, the injections threw my hormones into chaos, resulting in a PMDD episode that lasted for 11 months.

Deprived of even the monthly breaks in my symptoms, I languished in bed.

My attention shattered; I spent countless days scrolling my phone. I gulped down painkillers and sleeping pills like Skittles.

My finances were collapsing. I gained more than two stone in weight.

“It should be working by now,” the gynaecologist said after three months. “Have you tried eating more vegetables?”

The next gynaecologist was no better. “If it hasn’t worked, that suggests it’s not PMDD,” she said. “I should probably refer you to a psychiatrist.”

After months of my pleading, she agreed to write to the surgeon. But her letter was an act of sabotage.

“Sarah has diagnosed herself with PMDD,” she wrote, ignoring my GP’s diagnosis.

“She is on many help groups and accessing a lot of support from other PMDD sufferers online.” In other words: “This hypochondriac is spending too much time on the internet.”

Yes, I was on the internet, but I wasn’t talking to help groups any more.

Instead I’d been digging into scientific papers to find studies on chemical menopause.

Eventually, I found one — a meta-analysis of five clinical trials published in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry.

It stated that chemical menopause treats PMDD in “upwards of 70 per cent” of cases — but not 100 per cent, as the NHS doctors had said.

The International Association for Premenstrual Disorders (IAPMD) backs this up.

On its page on chemical menopause it says, “In rare cases [chemical menopause] does not fully suppress the cycle and there are breakthrough symptoms… If this was the case, you may still respond well to surgical menopause.”

Two months later, I was in Lithuania. Feeling desperate and unable to afford the £10,000 it would cost for private surgery in the UK, I had googled “gynaecology surgery Europe”.

This led me to Nordclinic in Kaunas, which treats about 2,000 British patients annually.

I sent my medical records to the surgeon, who agreed to perform the surgery. (…)

Though it’s early days, I still can’t believe how well I feel. My future unfurls before me without interruption.

I have so much time: time to write, to see friends and family, to travel, go on dates, paint and sing and read and run.

Time to cook, as I can now handle knives without fear. Time to sit and do nothing and burst out laughing from sheer wonder — for life without PMDD is so, so wonderful and I will forever be grateful for it.

That said, I still need to reckon with all the time taken from me over the past six years.

My trust in our healthcare system is broken and will probably never be restored.

I need to kick away the crutches — food, phone, pills, alcohol — that have held me up and rediscover better ways to cope.

But this time, I don’t need to keep starting again and again and again every month.

Yes, the scars are still red and raw. But by next summer, they’ll be gone."

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.lii // Aftermath of Blood

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

His first half-conscious impression is that of choking. An internal pressure down the front of his neck, down into his chest, like there’s an obstruction in his airways.

Choking, but also not, somehow - his lungs are moving regardless. He doesn’t have the strength to lift his hand to his mouth. He bites down on something, body screaming as he weakly arches his back, and then he tries to speak, but can’t. No groan, no whisper, not even the sound of air leaving his throat.

A hushed voice above him, the low-light blur of a silhouette when he manages to pry apart eyelids that feel stuck to each other. “Relax, kid, you’re good. You’re getting all the air you need, just try and relax.”

His eyes struggle to focus on the face, finding a gentle expression set in dark skin, and a casual, raised brow.

“Ready to breathe on your own, are you? See if you can squeeze my hand.”

His limbs buzz, whir, like wind spinning around his skin. The hand wrapped in his own is barely noticeable. It takes conscious effort he only barely possesses to make all fingers bend simultaneously.

Shaun grimaces a little, still keeping his voice low. “Normally I’d require a bit more than that, but you’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

Renee can see the edge of something blue at the bottom of his vision, something that stays in place when he shifts his head. His teeth dig into it, but it’s hard enough to withstand the bite despite his jaw’s ache at the effort. Fingers making a loose fist in the covers.

Maybe he blacks out, maybe time just passes. Shaun takes hold of the object in front of Renee’s mouth, his other hand firm on his shoulder, and tells him to try to cough. For a few seconds, Renee thinks he might’ve forgotten how to do that, and his uneven gaze seeks the other, silently begging for clues.

Finally, as if by chance, his diaphragm contracts, and he discovers he can make it do that on his own. Shutting his eyes tight, he pours all feeble effort into coughing.

What follows is the bizarre, oddly relieving feeling of the pressure leaving his throat from the bottom up in one, rapid movement. Even after the tube clears his teeth, he can’t stop coughing, a weak effort by his body to make sure his airways are clear – it finally makes a sound, then, hoarse and ragged. Fills his chest with pain, and his stomach with the sense of seams being pulled taught. Wheezing air in between attacks with every fiber of his being, grunting involuntarily against agony. A hand tilts him sideways by the shoulder, while another supports the back of his neck through it. Words of reassurance he can’t make out. The smell of his own sweat, laced with something chemical.

Eventually, it fades into heaving, which fades into deep, rapid breathing. A sense of warmth flows through his body, relieving the pain. His vision blurs and blurs.

The heavy dark brings him back down.

💵

“He’s sleeping every few hours.”

“I noticed.”

“And you don’t find that alarming?”

“It’s a reprieve, I suppose.”

“It’s a symptom, Kit.”

“That, too.”

“You know where this kind of thing ends if y—”

“Yes, I know. I’ve considered it, I’m aware. It crossed my mind.”

“So you just don’t care, is that it?”

Silence.

“I figured I was wise in keeping my nose out of your business, but the more I glean from this, the more I’ve realized I can’t ignore my moral repulsion.”

“What happened to loyalty?”

“It was tied to whatever false front slipped when you talked to my wife yesterday.”

Silence.

“I think I’ve made up my mind, Kit. I won’t stick a knife in your back when you leave. I’ll stick it in the front if you come back.”

Silence.

“Understood.”

Silence.

“You manipulated her too, you know.”

💵

The room has a different atmosphere. Different ambient sounds. Different smell, as if the brighter light against Renee’s closed lids somehow changed anything. Less biting, more pleasant.

The bed has been raised to prop up his back, not enough that he’s outright sitting, but he finds he’s lying more comfortably. His eyes flicker open, missing against brightness, walls that spin around him for several long moments.

Renee flexes his hands, although one doesn’t quite respond. He looks down at it. The cast for his elbow is back, from upper arm to thumb, joined by a splint around two fingers. Shifting its heavy weight reveals gauze following a curve down the side of his ribcage, and two red tubes sticking out of his stomach, joining with a mess of other wires. Under the covers, all he wears is a pair of boxers, but he’s pretty sure they’re not his own. He lets his head dump back down.

It's curious, there’s almost no pain this time around. Just a warmth, a pricking, senseless feeling all over, an iridescent sheen to the world, a barrier. A thick cloud in his head that makes his thoughts slow, then indiscernible after a certain point. Floating in warm mud, maybe.

Shaun approaches the bedside, half-leaning against it and offering a smile that’s blurred in his vision. “How are you feeling?”

Renee squints up at him. “’m high.”

Shaun nods, raising a brow. “Very.”

Swallowing thick, Renee’s eyes drift across the rest of the room. Off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, Davin dispassionately approaches to watch them. So does Conrad from a bed next to his, just a pair of eyes sticking out from the blanket covering his thin frame, idly watching beneath a mess of curls. Renee manages to move his tongue around, and it’s only then he realizes how dry his mouth is. Dry enough to burn if he wasn’t numb. His voice is so rough, he barely gets vowels out. “Do you h-have… water?”

Shaun smiles politely, backing up toward the door. “’Course. Sit tight.”

The sight of Davin should fill Renee with loathing, and he recognizes it on a distant, clinical sort of level, but the weight of that emotion is lost in the mud.

“You lost a kidney,” the man greets him.

When Renee blinks, even that feels sluggish, delayed. “… kidney,” he repeats.

Davin nods. “You know what a kidney is, don’t you?”

Renee nods a little. Frowns. “Why…?”

“A third of it blew out your back, I’m guessing, and the rest was so frayed it wouldn’t have healed on it’s own. Shaun had to cut out a small chunk of your liver, too. Minimal muscle damage, that’s the good news.” Davin sniffs. “There’s a second incision in your back where we fixated four of your ribs; one was poking at your lung but somehow didn’t penetrate. That’s just the notable stuff. I’ll give you the rest of the list, if you want it.”

Renee grimaces, in lieu of having enough energy to shake his head.

“You realize you got lucky, right? From now on, you’re living on borrowed time.”

Reentering with a glass of water in his hand, Shaun shoots him a look. “Let him gather his bearings, Kit.”

Davin snorts, casting his gaze down. “We’re a bit past courtesy,” he says under his breath.

Renee can’t lift the glass on his own, but he’s too exhausted to feel humiliated when Shaun brings it to his lips for him. Swallowing down the cold liquid finally triggers pain strong enough to break through the drugs, a rawness in his throat, as if the muscles involved are shredded. Still, he drinks hungrily, the nails of his good hand close to scratching at Shaun’s to pull the glass closer.

“Nice and easy, kid.”

The effort leaves him winded at first, panting hoarsely once the glass is finally empty. He sinks back against the pillow, head spinning.

It doesn’t suddenly crash back into his head, but instead flickers in his memory one drop at a time, moments here and there, out of order and hard to distinguish. Parts of it, whole sections, are gone entirely.

A trace of that feeling comes back – the one that’s marred the totality of his existence for what feels like an eternity. Maybe it’s triggered by physical cold water hitting his gut. It’s similar to panic - energizing, in a strange way, although it probably won’t last. With some effort, Renee hauls his upper body forward, pushing with his good arm until he’s sitting on his own. It dawns how wrecked he is – bar being drugged enough to see the world in far too many colors, moving in any significant way sucks the air out of his lungs, and even sitting like this, he can barely keep his balance.

Shaun’s hand is on his shoulder. “Try to rel—"

“I’m fuckin’ fine,” Renee bites out.

Just sore as hell. It doesn’t feel like he’s missing an organ, but then again, he’s not sure what that’s supposed to feel like. There’s mainly pain in his back, side and core, all mostly on his right side. The cast already has him curling an arm around it. He drops his head, letting his body adjust to the new position, breathing through it.

Davin clears his throat. “Fine enough to talk?”

Renee lets out a rough laugh. “Not to you.”

“I’d like to think I’m owed some clarity.”

Baring his teeth, Renee looks up at him, breath ragged in his throat. “Owed… You fucking started this.”

The way Shaun stiffens in his periphery isn’t lost on Renee, and Davin notices it, too. His jaw works for a moment before he turns his head towards him, inhaling deep through his nose. “Leave the room.”

Shaun grits his teeth. “If you’re going to—”

“He’s safe,” Davin says. “Leave the room.”

Shaun draws in a deep breath as his gaze travels the room, from Renee to Conrad and back to Davin. He looks on the verge of speaking, but instead sets his jaw, shaking his head. He brings the empty glass with him when he walks out.

Davin waits until the door has clicked shut before he takes a deep breath, shifting from one leg to the other. “I thought about double tapping you in the parking garage,” he mutters. “Took quite a bit of effort to view you as anything other than a loose end. Now I’ve compromised my own safety to save your miserable life. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

Renee sits tense, eyes locked on his lap. He can barely get the words, or the unsettling ease with which Davin says them, to make sense in his head, much less sink in fast enough to respond. Numb, shaking hands tighten and release, that’s all that happens.

Way too casually, Davin uncoils his arms and walks over to the side of Conrad’s bed, taking a seat on the foot of the mattress. He doesn’t seem to mind the way Conrad first coils his legs up further, then stiffly crawls up against the wall to increase the distance between them.

“Honesty for honesty, hm?” Brushing a chunk of hair behind one ear, Davin folds his hands, giving Renee an imperative look. “Mind explaining why your face has made national headlines?”

Even Renee’s hands stop fidgeting after that, reduced to subtle trembling as his fingers slack. He closes his eyes. “I don’t really… want to talk about it.”

“Too bad,” Davin says, matter-of fact. “News have been talking about an informant. Who was that?”

Renee frowns. “Inf…?”

A shock of cold water. His gaze snaps up, before he tries to reel his reaction back in, teeth gritted against the pressure threatening to loom in his chest. “He’s okay, right? He’s…? Is he… has he said anything?”

Davin eyes him for a moment, pursing his lips. “No, he hasn’t,” he mutters. “What’s his name?”

Renee shakes his head. “I don’t want—”

“News already described him as your source, if that’s what you’re worried about. The rest, I’ll find out eventually, you should know that by now. Cat’s out of the fucking bag, Renee. I’d like you to tell me who that guy is and what you told him.”

Renee winces, curling slightly over himself. Why would they release his details like that? Fucking drama-hungry—

“How did he find out?”

Ducking his head, he runs his working hand over his hair, grabbing his neck tight. Compressing his torso only agitates his injuries, but he can’t keep still in the overwhelming feeling of dread. He’s not ready to consider how fucked Laz’s life is going to be - or his own, or everything – after this. His voice is barely above a whisper. “God fuckin-… what was I even…?”

“Focus, Renee.”

“I stabbed him.”

Davin doesn’t sound the least bit taken aback by the confession. “I know,” is all he says. “What did you tell him?”

Letting out a terse breath, Renee looks up, although his shoulders slump. “I don’t fucking know, dude, I don’t—I wasn’t paying attention to…”

“Walk me through the conversation, if you have to.”

Renee shakes his head, teeth bared. “It doesn’t fuckin’ matter anymore.”

“Oh, yes it does.”

“Why?”

Davin snorts, raising a brow. “Did you tell him about me?”

Through the fog in his head, Renee remarks how bizarrely funny it is, the timing of Davin flashing his actual priorities every single time it might be relevant. He lets out a tense laugh. “I fuckin’ hope I did.”

Davin doesn’t react outward, but he’s silent for a bit, eyes locked with his. But contrary to the layered threats Renee expected, when he finally breaks from the staring contest, he smiles politely, tilting his head to the side. “Were you guys dating?”

Renee blinks, then lets out a bitter snort. “It’s not…”

“You seemed awfully concerned a minute ago.”

“What the fuck do you care?”

The slight curl to the corner of Davin’s mouth disappears, as he looks down at his hands. Something about the rapid shifts in atmosphere makes Renee indulge the silence, if nothing out of confusion – he can’t quite keep up. There’s a somber note to Davin’s voice when he speaks. “There’s something you should know,” he says.

The tone isn’t alarming, but a tiny movement in Renee’s periphery makes him glance at Conrad. Teeth locked, body pressed against the wall, as if he’s been trying to make himself as small as possible for the past five minutes. Renee catches him mid-wince, but he looks away the moment their eyes meet, brow creased in silent apprehension.

Renee swallows, frowning. “Wh…?”

Davin absentmindedly taps his thigh. “Police department did a briefing this morning. Officially confirmed you’re a suspect in Conrad’s case, but they did also give a recap of the events leading up to the chase. And I know they have incentive to embellish the truth, but…” He clicks his tongue. “There’s some things they have no reason to lie about, I suppose. They had EMS waiting near that building in case of an emergency. That cop you shot – Carla something – she was picked up by an ambulance and taken to the nearest trauma center. About an hour later, the news reported her death.”

The temperature in the room seems to instantly drop. Renee’s mouth opens, he’s staring at Davin with wide eyes. Not sure what to think, or if he’s even able to comprehend what was just said.

Davin’s jaw works. He leans back before he continues. “A couple paramedics stayed behind to tend to the informant, but he died on scene. You killed two people yesterday, Renee.”

On the other bed, Conrad has clasped a hand over his mouth, but even that doesn’t muffle the awful little sound he makes. It makes Renee turn his head again, distantly confused, but the guy’s eyes are shut tight now. He looks like he might be sick.

Brows furrowed, a slight curl to his upper lip, Renee gives a minute shake to his head. “Wh—I don’t… Are you talking about Laz?”

Davin nods. “Unless they forgot to mention a thirdperson you tried to kill, then yes, Laz the informant is dead.”

Breathing veering more superficial, Renee shakes his head again, blinking rapidly. “What… do you mean?”

“There’s not a whole lot of ways I could phrase it, Renee. You killed him.”

“I didn’t try to… It’s not…” He lets out a hard breath. “I didn’t hit his heart. You don’t die from, from—”

“I don’t know the specifics, but he’s dead. News have been circling footage of a body bag. I’ll show it to you, if you want to see it.”

It’s unnatural, the sensation washing over Renee, as if he can physically feel the blood draining from his head from the top down. His scalp, forehead, eyes and ears, mouth, jaw. Down and down. “You c-… There’s no way. There’s no way. He’s not—”

His throat closes, and he rocks forward,

Disjointed fragments of images, stuck in a loop, like an endless attempt to process the same piece of information over and over and over again. The sound he made when the blade punched into him, the look of shock in his eyes. The fact that he didn’t push Renee away, but instead drew him closer. Those can’t have been his last moments. They can’t, it’s not possible.

It hurts to think, physically hurts. Head, chest, stomach, agony. It’s paralyzing. Makes his body seize up, makes his breathing sound strangled to his own ears. Several moments pass, in which he can’t see anything. Or he can, but he can’t.

Can’t think for an eternity. Feels like he’s being deafeningly loud somehow, but when he finally manages to gather enough wherewithal to pay attention to his surroundings again, it’s silent. Conrad has ducked his face between his knees, shielding his head with his arms. Davin is just looking at him with an impassionate, but still vaguely curious expression.

Something like a whine escapes Renee’s throat. “You’re fucking with me. You fucking lying bastard, there’s no way—”

He’s halted in his tracks when Davin sighs, pulls out his phone and begins searching for something.

Renee holds up a finger, sneering. “Don’t fucking do that, don’t – I don’t care – I don’t give a fuck what they’re saying, do you hear me?”

With a hand on his thigh, Davin pushes himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders as he approaches the bedside. Renee feels himself recoiling, shaking as he , eyes fixed on the phone in the other’s hand. “I’m not gonna let you show me whatever the fuck—”

As soon as Davin is close enough, Renee kicks at him. He partially sees it coming when Davin catches his leg by the ankle, but what he doesn’t expect is for the man to lean his whole body into yanking backwards, pulling enough of Renee’s body from the bed to send him toppling over the edge.

Wires dislodge in the fall, coiling around his limbs, and IVs are ripped from his skin. The half-scream Renee lets out is painfully coarse and abruptly silenced when the floor knocks the air out of his lungs. He lands on his bad side, curling over his wounds before the pain even has a chance to flare, rolling over on his stomach. Above, the piercing blare of alarms from the machines that no longer detect his pulse.

He hasn’t even heaved in a breath before Davin’s knee is on his back, and a hand pulls his head sideways and presses his cheek into the floor. Vision sailing, he lets out a frantic grunt, struggling to will his lungs to inflate. “Ng—gh—”

“Stop it.” Conrad’s voice, a weak hiss.

Davin snorts. “I fucking hate denial.”

When he brings the phone down in front of his face, Renee instinctually shuts his eyes, wheezing through his teeth. The force on his head increases, as Davin leans his upper weight on the hold.

“Fucking look at it, Renee. You think I’m lying? I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

Spit flies from his teeth as he bucks, half-conscious from agony, and pushes at Davin’s arm with his good hand - now streaked with blood from the ripped-out IV, plaster barely holding on by a corner. His eyes still find the screen, news B-roll taken outside of Lazarus’ apartment building. Yellow barrier tape – POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS – flutters between light posts, dozens and dozens of people in uniforms, some of whom stand in groups talking, others walking to and fro. Center frame, a gurney is rolled down the tiled path from the front door to the parking lot.

“See that, mh? About the size of your dealer?”

The top of the gurney is covered in a white sheet, but the wind has knocked a corner up to reveal the black tarp-like plastic underneath.

Renee can’t process anything. He lets out a broken sound, another, another. Doesn’t quite know or understand what they are. Hitching, rough from his chest, bits of words and outcries, fragmented by sobs that won’t stop coming, mostly unheard by his own ears. Long after Davin gets up and lets him lie there, Renee’s eyes are fixed on the spot in the air where the white sheet was. His whole body shakes. He doesn’t feel human.

He doesn’t even feel like an animal anymore.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 3 - Blood Play

Kink: Blood Play

Pairing: M!Reader x F!Vampire

Other Kinks: Femdom, Thigh-Fucking, Blood Used as Lube, Pussy Job

Warnings: Blood

Word Count: 1232 words

Kinktober Masterlist

You’ve learned to recognize the symptoms of blood loss.

More specifically, you’ve learned to differentiate them from the unfortunately similar symptoms you experience whenever you’re around Anais. Heart beating faster, heavy breathing, weakness in your knees and the occasional spots going across your vision. It’s a difficult task, especially when she’s pressed herself up against you like this, fangs deep in your neck while she grinds her clothed cunt over your crotch.

A warmth spreads down your neck and onto your chest as she detaches with a pop, licking her lips and watching as droplets of blood pool. She takes her long, manured pointer finger and drags it across the red lines, sucking on the tip like it’s a lollipop. Anais forces her finger all the way down to her knuckle, looking you directly as she does.

Your throat feels dry, hips humping into her as your hands futilely try to rip through the rope tying them behind your back. You’re usually a much more behaved plaything, but the haziness of her beauty has you acting irrationally. Or maybe that's the blood loss.

“Delicious, darling, as usual.” Anais leans down and licks up your bleeding wound, closing it enough with her healing saliva that it won’t cause major complications, but still beads with her favorite drink. Her lips suck around the sensitive area, her predatory gaze watching the goosebumps rise to your skin. “Just what I need after a long day.” 

Blood has now dripped down to your belly button, smearing over your stomach as she continues to grind in your lap. The liquid makes a squelching sound between your two bodies, sticking you together. She doesn’t mind the blood stains on her white babydoll dress, knowing you’ll be a good little boy and wash it out for her later. Or maybe she’ll keep it that way, a permanent reminder of your trysts.

She fully closes her first bite with another lick, but only because she craves a different part of you. Your chest heaves with a whine as she pulls away, pushing your pliant body onto your back. Your boxers are short, seams rising up so high your throbbing cock is basically pushing out. But that’s not Anais' focus. No, she’s interested in your inner thigh, the fatty, thick part of your leg teeming with blood.

Your cock jumps when Anais leans down and sinks another bite, blood gushing down her jaw and onto her cleavage. She’s messier this time, letting it soak down the front of her and onto the bed spread. Head tossed back in a moan, you thrust your hips up again, hoping just to graze her face with your crotch. Anything for a touch.

“You’re such a good pet.” Anais whispers between mouthfuls of your blood, licking her lips and suckling. Her nails dig into your ass cheeks as she nuzzles in further, eyes clenched shut and savoring the taste. “Always so willing, so ready for me.”

You nod, too delirious for words, just desperate to remind her of how obedient of a boy you are. 

“I think you deserve a reward.”

A hand darts upward to the back of your neck, digging into the back of your skull with her nails and pulling you to sit upwards. With a better look you can see her entire front is now covered in your blood, sticking the babydoll to her chest and revealing her peaked nipples. You feel drool pooling your mouth.

With her grip still firm Anais lays down on her back, legs laying on your chest. She does a half crunch and grabs at your cock, fishing it out of your boxers, ignoring your desperate cries and moans at finally being touched properly. 

With your dick now settled in between her legs, pressed right between her pussy lips and dripping with pre-cum, Anais licks her hand and smears the blood on her stomach down to her thighs. The combination stains her thighs wet, making them slick and easy to glide through. Your cock jumps again, realizing the boon you’re being given.

“O-oh! Ungh!” You grunt as Anais squeezes her legs together, plush meaty thighs marshmallowing your sensitive dick. The hand on your skull finally unfurls, traveling down your back and slicing open your restraints. Your chest falls forward and hands dig into the comforter below for leverage.

“You know the rules, don’t you?”

“No touching until you say so, mistress.”

“Good boy.” She pets your head. “You may use my thighs and grind against my sweet cunt, but no-

“No penetration, miss.”

“That’s right. You’re a good boy, but you still have to earn being buried in this pussy.”

That's fine by you, in your drunken state the feeling of her pussy lips and her thighs is all you need.

“May I start?”

Anais smirks, leaning back and resting on her elbows.

“You may.”

Too desperate for reservation, you immediately begin humping like a rutting dog. You can feel everything, your mistress’s slick, the bump of her clit as your head catches on it, and her soft skin encasing your shaft. You feel her plump ass cheeks jiggling as your balls slap against them, wondering what your cum will look like running between them.

 Anais bites her lips as she watches you, watches you struggle not to cum right then and there. There’s a pleasant heat starting to spark in her stomach, the friction of your shaft against her entrance and button enough to drive her wild. Not to mention your cute face, eyes squinting but never closing, never one to look away from your mistress. Sweat drips down your forehead and nose, the veins in your arms becoming pronounced as your thrust into her thighs. She just loves watching you come undone.

It’s why she pulls down the front of her nightdress, lets her giant breasts spill out, still covered with your blood. Your whole body trembles at the site, her tantalizing nipples so close to your mouth.

“M-mistress-ah!”

“Are you close?” Anais asks and giggles, already knowing the answer.

“Y-yes! Yes I am!”

Anasi teases her finger around her areola, watching it perk at the slightest touch, You notice too, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Drool dribbles down your chin, mixing with the sweat and blood.

“Suck on my nipples as you come, baby. Do it.”

You all but collapse into her chest, mouth ravenous as you immediately latch on. Anais laughs as your teeth dig in and tug, your hips speeding up and beginning to shake.

“T-thank you!” You say in between mouth full of tit, face now nuzzled in the valley in between. “Thank you mistress! Thank you!”

Your whole body seizes as you cum, jets of semen shooting up Anai’s stomach and hitting right under your jaw and the bottoms of her tits. You bite down hard enough to break the skin if Anais had been a mere mortal, nostrils flaring as your ride out your high.

It’s enough to send you over the edge, your body no longer having the strength to hold you up and falling right onto your mistress. Your nose stays buried in between her breasts, weak tongue still darting out for a taste.

Anais draws shapes into your upper back, massaging the base of your skull as your breath heavily on top of her, on the edge of consciousness.

“My perfect little toy.”

[ketsueki-writes]

Hii! I saw you're doing that 'welcome back beloved' event and wanted to ask if you could write some headcanons about jjk men(preferably gojo, itadori and choso but if you only write for one I'll be fine with just choso) with a fem!reader who has narcolepsy and cataplexy?

If you don't know what that is narcolepsy is a sleep disorder witb symptoms such as excessive daytime sleepiness (so basically a reader who sleep a lot and can fall asleep anywhere. Also narcoleptics need to take a 10-20min nap before doing something that needs concentration)

And cataplexy is a sudden and transient episode of muscle weakness accompanied by full conscious awareness, typically triggered by emotions such as laughing (so basically a reader who experiences muscle weakness in her whole body when she laughs or gets too excited)

I hope it's not too much and not too hard for you😭 Thank you!💗

ɪ ʟᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴏɴ! <3

ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛᴀᴅᴏʀɪ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ! ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ.

♡ Satoru Gojo

Somehow you've always been so predictable to him. He knew whenever he pushed open the door of your home that there you'd be. Preparing. He walked in quietly, shutting the door behind him as he neared you. He pressed a hand to the wall as he slid off his shoes, watching you with a sweet smile across his lips. He set his hands to his sides, sliding them in his pockets as he neared you, hushed and full of admiration. His head turned slightly as he checked the clock on the wall, his eyes quickly finding their way back to you as the moment he got the time. It was nearing the part of the day where you'd go about whatever task you set out to do that morning. Whether it'd have been cleaning or something on that computer of yours he knew he'd find you here- preparing.

Sleeping.

At first he didn't get it- narcolepsy. He joked that it sounded like necromancy and you slapped his arm, telling him to cut it out while he laughed. However once he got it, he got it good, reminding you to take it easy and watching for any sudden bouts of drowsiness that might befall you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing a hand to your cheek as he softly thumbed your chin, whispering sweet nothings in a way that seemed almost too loving for his normal taste out in the world. He soon looked around, figuring the couch wasn't quite good enough for you. He loved to the front of the couch, bending forward as he went to scoop you into his arms before you moved. He froze, curiously looking- his eyes growing wide like his smile as you hummed slightly, pushing yourself up to your side.

The white haired man's feeling gleamed brightly on his face as he squatted down in front of you, whispering softly "Hello sleepy-head" before your eyes finally focused on him.

He gleamed as you did, he'd been waiting all day to see those pretty eyes and finally he got the opportunity to do so. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as your arms wrapped around his neck. He pulled you in closely, his familiar scent filling you as the two of you embraced.

"Missed you too-" he snarked, grinning as you pulled back slightly to look at him. You only playfully rolled your eyes as he chuckled, picking you up and into his arms. "So- what's the plan for today?" he asked softly into your ear. "I'm thinking, maybe me, you, some food and a movie huh-" he added.

You'd like that, and he'd like it a lot more.

♡ Choso

You quickly moved around the house, quick of course but not too quick. You didn't want to trigger any sort of episodes.

You needed the place to be as clean as possible, as spic and span as you possibly could. You had so much that was going to be happening- but regardless of all of it only one part stood out from among the rest.

He was soon to be home.

You smiled to yourself at the thought, doing your best to keep calm before you heard the doorbell ring. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt all those giddy nerves finally form one single fireball-

and down you went.

Panic set in as you felt the control you once had beginning to slip from your fingers. You could've sworn you heard the doorbell ring again but you weren't sure. You tried to fight it, feeling a wave crash through you as your muscles began to lose tone.

Cataplexy is something you'd had for as long as you could remember and you knew what triggered it but how were you meant to help yourself. Who could be calm when the love of their life was just on the other side of the door?

You opened your mouth to try to a call for help, a task that seemed ferociously hard before the lock clicked and turned, the knob moving slightly before turning itself. You began to collapse on yourself as if you were melting as the door began to open.

If you'd have blinked you'd have missed it.

You weren't the only one excited for him to be home.

As if it were the Flash himself he moved, the dark-haired man wrapping his arms around you as you sank, cradling your body into his. You looked up at him as he smiled, holding your body close to his.

"I missed you too baby," he said sweetly, running a hand alongside your cheek before he lifted you to the couch, letting you down in his lap. Your body felt comfortable against him, each piece of you melting to him out of your control but he seemed to like it better this way. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your lips, holding his there as he breathed deeply against you. He finally pulled away with a face of nothing but clear adoration.

Choso was usually very calm and reserved but he made a point to show his affection to you whenever he was around you, whether it be small gestures or touch. You knew for certain his love and care for you, even with a debilitating disease such as this one.

Because he loved you, so very much.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Tonsil Troubles

Pairings: Weems x Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: Reader has been ignoring their body, Weems and Thornhill intervene.

TW: Tonsillitis, medication, hospitals, sickness, surgery

A/n I’ve kinda started doing requests in a random order … whoops. This is based off an A03 request I had.

The pain was back again. You had had the same pain a few weeks ago and a couple months before that. But it was just a cold. Or so you thought. It hurt to swallow. It was far too hot. And it your throat hurt. But as long as it was a cold you could deal with it yourself. So, you hid. You hid the pain. You hid from your friends at mealtime, so they didn’t question why you were only eating soft foods. You hid your symptoms and your misery from students and teachers alike.

So far it had been going ok. You looked a little flushed from what may be the begging of a nasty fever, but you were doing semi-alright for yourself.

You were sat in botany. Ms Thornhill was blissfully distracted drawing a diagram on the board which meant she wasn’t paying much attention to you. Thinking you were in the clear you shut your eyes and laid your hot cheek on the cool surface of the lab tables. You let a small sigh escape at the nice feeling and relaxed your muscles.

You were beyond tired, and everything hurt. That’s probably why it was so easy for you to fall asleep. You hadn’t meant to. Your body simply demanded rest and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Ms Thornhill continued teaching for the rest of the lesson. Once all the textbooks were shut and put away, she returned to her desks and dismissed her students. After a few minutes she looked up from her lesson planner and frowned. You were asleep in the back row. Your hair covering your eyes and your cheeks holding an unnatural flush to them.

Ms thornhill stood and came over to your side.

The first thing you registered was a hand rubbing circles on your back. You let out a soft groan as you gained your surroundings and sat up slightly. After a second you swallowed and failed to contain a wince.

“Y/n? Are you feeling alright honey?” A voice asked but everything was moving too fast, and you simply placed your head back on the table.

“Y/n?” The voice asked again, and you felt someone brush the hair from your face, smoothing it back with one hand and placing another hand on your forehead. You lent into the touch; their hands much cooler than you hot face.

You heard someone suck a sharp breath.

“Oh honey.” The voice sounded slightly sad. “You're not feeling good, are you?” You hummed an affirmative sound and nuzzled into the hand.

“Let’s get you to the nurse. That fever needs to be brought down and I’m sure your feeling awful.” You whined softly. “I know I’m so mean, caring about your wellbeing. You shouldn’t have even come to class like this Y/n what were you thinking?” She said and you finally connected the dots. Ms Thornhill.

Lifting you head from the desk you looked at her tiredly. “Im fine.” Your voice sounded awful, and Ms Thornhill scoffed.

“No. No honey, you're not. Not by a long shot.” She started to pack up your things for you. “Let’s get you to the nurse. Can you walk?” She asked and you gave a defeated sigh and nodded. “Alright then, up you come.” She offered you a hand and pulled you to your feet. You stumbled slightly, still very tired and you felt an arm around your waist to stabilise you.

Ms Thornhill held you close to her side the whole walk down. You were too tired to care and even rested your head on her shoulder which made the trip probably take twice as long. Ms Thornhill had your bag on her shoulder and an arm around your waist as she practically held you up.

Once you were steered into the infirmary, she guided you over to a bed and gently pushed down on your shoulders to make you sit. She placed the bag down by the bed. “Wait here, I’ll go grab the nurse.” She said and you nodded.

A second later she returned with the nurse behind her. Ms Thornhill came and sat down on one of the plastic chairs near the bed and watched silently.

The nurse began to do a short exam and asked a few questions. She had you poke out your tongue and had said your tonsils were inflamed. That made sense to you. When you told her it hurt to swallow Ms Thornhill bit her lip and furrowed her brow but stayed silent. After a minute the nurse asked if you had felt this way before where you sheepishly admitted that it had been a reoccurring thing for a few months now. Ms Thornhill looked slightly disappointed. After the exam was over the nurse pulled back the sheet on the bed.

“Am i not allowed to leave?” You asked eyeing the bed warily.

“Well, you have tonsillitis and based off how often it seems to be reoccurring. I think it would be best to stay here until we can get someone to take you to the emergency room. You will most likely need them removed with how much trouble their causing.” You looked at her blankly.

“Surgery?” You asked and she nodded.

“A minor one. But yes, surgery all the same.” She said and you looked to Ms Thornhill who wore an expression of shock and concern. She knew you well enough to see you were panicking. She got up from the chair and came to crouch in front of you at your eye level. She took your shaking hands in hers and spoke softly.

“If you would like i can come with you. I’ll be there the whole time. I think Ms Weems will come along as she’s in charge of all you kids' wellbeing and I stay with you if she’ll let me. Honey i know this is scary but I promise you will be ok. Can you trust me on this one.” She asked and you nodded. The nurse watched before whispering to Marilyn she was going to phone Weems from her office and to stay with you for now. Then she left and it was just you and Ms Thornhill.

The botany teacher stood from where she was sat and patted the bed, encouraging you to climb in.

“Might as well get comfy.” She smiled and you nodded, still reeling from the implications of what was to come. You crawled up the bed and Ms Thornhill tucked you in and pulled the chair closer to sit beside you.

“Close your eyes sweetheart. You must be exhausted. I won’t leave. Get some rest now.” She said and you nodded again and rested your head on the pillow. Your hair framed yoru face as you began to drift off. Ms Thornhill pulled out a book she had seemingly brought with her and began to read, glancing up at your sleeping form from time to time just to check on you. Your brow was pinched even asleep which indicted you were in some degree of pain even in unconsciousness.

The next time you woke up it was to the sound of voices. After a minute you made out the first, Ms Thornhill, and the lilt of an english accent told you Ms Weems was also present. You opened your eyes slowly and observed the scene. The nurse and the two teachers were talking in the corner and not really sparing much attention to where you were in the bed. Ms Thornhill mentioned something about nerves, and you sat up against the headrest. The movement drew the attention of the botanist, and she made eye contact and came over.

“Hi y/n.” She said softly taking up her chair again. “How are you feeling honey?” She asked and you looked at her for a second before saying.

“Awful.”

“Alright. That settles it. Lariss- Ms Weems and I will come with you to the ER. The sooner we get there the sooner we get back.” She said and brushed the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You heard the sound of heels and turned to face the headmistress.

“Hello Y/n. How’s the throat feeling now darling?” She asked and you sighed.

“Sore.” You said and Ms Thornhill looked at Weems.

“I think we should take her in. Are you good to drive or do you want me to?” The teacher asked and Weems shook her head.

“I’ll drive. You sit in the back with Ms L/n. It's a short trip to the Jericho ER.” Weems said and you simply watched their back and forth silently.

“Alright. Are you ready to go y/n?” Ms Thornhill asked and helped you out of the bed.

“Yeah.” You sighed and stretched.

The trip to the hospital was simple. You sat in the back with Ms Thornhill, you flushed face pressed to the cool glass window, your eyes closed as you walked the line between sleep and full awareness.

Once Ms Weems had parked Ms Thornhill helped you out of the car and the small group went into the emergency room. You waited with Ms Thornhill while the principal went up to the desk and got you checked in.

The next little bit passed in a blur, most likely because of the fever and before you knew it you were in a bed looking up at the two teachers who had escorted you there. A mask was placed over your mouth and nose, and you were told to count back from ten as you drifted off into a drug induced sleep.

The next time you woke your head felt it was in the clouds. Someone was holding your hand and your mind felt warm and fuzzy. Cracking open an eye, you broke out into a grin.

The face of your favourite blonde principal was looking down at you with a soft but worried expression, she was also holding your hand. Without thinking you began to talk under the heavy haze of the drugs you were on for the surgery.

“You're so pretty” you said dreamily. Ms weems went red to the tips of her ears while Marilyn muffled her laugh with her hand from where she sat on your other side that wasn’t currently occupied by a blushing blonde Brit.

Before Weems could open her mouth to protest you spoke again.

“I wish you were my mother.” You sighed looking sad.

At the half mortified look on Weems face more so from shock than anything Marilyn failed to contain her laugh and your head whipped around to look at her.

“You too.” You whispered. Both teachers paused and looked mildly honoured and concerned. Weems gave your hand a gentle pat.

“I love you both.” You smiled and closed your eyes.

“Hush now Y/n Sleep my darling.” Weems said in a softer tone than you had ever heard from her.

Even with your eyes shut still you frowned. “But i don’t want you to leave.”

“We won’t” Both teachers said at once.

“We’ll be right here the whole time” Ms Weems said.

You gave a sleepy nod followed by a yawn and fell asleep to the feeling of hands stroking your hair and a thumb rubbing over your knuckles. It was soft. It was safe. It was home.

[infernalodie]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

“𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘜𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶“

Inspo: Sleep Token - The Appartition

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

Summary: A wound unattended to will fester and take its hold on the person’s body...

Warnings: angst, character death, and faint symptoms of schizophrenia (for plot purposes)

A/N: A fic that I finally finished after weeks of not acknowledging it’s existence and Sleep Token’s album motivating me to finish it.

Words: 1735

Tara couldn’t sleep.

Those eyes, those lips, that voice. It haunted her. It sliced at her eyelids, forcing them open for hours until her imagination took hold. Shifting between false and reality-bending that obscured her senses. If it be whispers in her ear, dark figures crossing her vision, or shivers that ran down her spine like the tips of fingers running over each curve. The motion resembling a snake curling around each curve of her body, wishing to experience each spot for itself.

She couldn’t escape you…

Her high school sweetheart. A wonderful human, who had simply been manipulated and twisted from an early age. Crafted into a deluded girl that trauma clung to like a virus. But Tara still loved you, even with a knife driving into a person she thought you considered a friend. Even with the Ghostface mask on and with the dark robe, she loved you. Regardless of your wrongdoings, she knew it hadn’t been your fault. You had no way of knowing that following your sister as you did would turn out how it did for you.

It’d been two years of dating before Tara finally grew curious as to what you did in your spare time. What had been the act of surprising you, she showed up at your house butchering one of the cheerleaders from your class. Much like others that had been found dead miles away from Woodsboro. And Tara might’ve been just as twisted, but she didn’t say anything. She kept her mouth shut and never spoke a word about it. But she was cautious of being alone with you. Tara didn’t make it apparent, but she wasn’t sure if she would be the next victim of your vicious rampage.

But it was the way you sought approval from Amber that told Tara all she needed to know. The way you made a display of what you did hoping to impress her. It was a dead giveaway to Tara who was too late to stop anything further from happening.

Tara liked to think that she lost you that night. She liked to think that your soul went somewhere better than here.

Yet, she still felt you.

She could still hear you. Parading around in the reveries of her dreams. A fresh wound waiting for the skin to heal over.

It was almost cruel the type of games you played. Then again, it might just be the trauma. The image of you laying on your back, Amber stabbing you in the chest repeatedly as you cried out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” It was a mantra that played like a broken record in Tara’s head when she went to sleep at night. Seeing you reach out for her, for help, for a saviour.

She missed you…

Every time she reached and every step taken, you seemed farther and farther away. But it felt like every time she acknowledge even the faintest possibility you were there in some spiritual form, you grew louder and made yourself known.

And at some point, Tara was going to snap. She would finally break under the torture you were submitting her to. But tonight, after spending so much time with Sam, Chad, and Mindy, she finally felt the grasp of exhaustion take its hold. Ignoring her sister as she marched into her room and slammed her door shut, collapsing in her bed, lazily peeling articles of clothes and replacing them with something more comfortable; grey sweatpants and a white tank top. And before she knew it, the softness of the blankets and the sinking sensation of her mattress allowed her to shift into dreamland.

“Tara~.” The sing-song tone of a voice called out to her through a sleepy haze that clung to her. “Tara, baby. Are you alright?” Fingers glossed through her hair, a gentle hum of approval vibrating through her chest, lips twisting into a small smile. It became enough to stir her to finally recognize someone to be with her.

In the disorientating filter over his thoughts and vision, her eyes slowly peeled open. Half-lidded, stinging with the need for sleep, she squinted slightly to focus her swaying gaze. Her eyebrows slowly scrunched together. Those familiar lips smiled down at her in slight amusement.

It took a few moments for her mind to catch up to what she was seeing. But when she did, she wasn’t holding back. She screamed, scrambling back and out of her bed. Rubbing her eyes roughly, hoping it was just the craftsmanship of her mind. When she pulled her hands away, she found you standing there anxiously, hands fiddling with one another.

You were here, fully. Not in flickering lights. Not a whisper. Not a shiver along her back.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered nervously. “I know this is unexpected, but I wanted to see you-”

“You aren’t real!” Her yell made you flinch, heart slightly cracking. Tara shook her head, eyes clamping shut in an attempt to force reality back into place. “None of this is real. You’re a fraud. This is all my imagination.”

“Tara-”

“Stop talking!”

“Baby!” You yelled, silencing Tara as her eyes snapped open to stare at you. You lifted your hand, fingers curling and knocking against her headboard. The audible sound of something meeting the wood echoed in the room. “I’m here, with you. Right now. This isn’t some fake fabrication of your mind wanting to torture you for what happened.”

Tara pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes. Her mind fractured the longer she tried to differentiate what was real to fake. But she knew this was fake. You weren’t actually here but in some form of spiritual manifestation in her dreams. That could be the only justification for this.

“Why couldn’t you be here?” Tara trembled, back pressed to the wall. Her eyes were glass that never blinked or flickered away from your smaller figure. Those same beautiful eyes stared up at her with a cheerfulness that she missed seeing every morning at school. Now, she was only allowed to see it in the false acquisition of reality. Her mind conjures up fraudulent beliefs in response to a trauma she would never be able to feel or see again. “Why can’t you be real?”

You tilted your head, smiling softly as you slowly closed the space between the two of you. Just like in the movies, Tara expected your hands to phase through. But when she felt the warmth of smooth palms grasps her arms, she nearly sobbed. Legs wobbling as she stared at your hands, absorbing in the warmth as if your touch was a fire in a snowstorm.

“Why aren’t you real? Why couldn’t you come with us? Why…? Why…” She fell into mantras, melting in your hold as you slid your hands up her arms, past her shoulders, over her neck, and stopping at her cheeks.

It stilled her for a moment, long enough that she could take in your smile. “What I did…it was inexcusable Tara. But that doesn’t mean you should allow me to hold you back.” You pursed your lips, tilting your head, eyes blinking rapidly to remove the tears that hung along the brims. “But I…I wanted to be with you for a little longer. See you, feel you, hear you. I wanted it for as long as I could before I had to go.”

Sniffling, you caressed her cheek and smiled. “But I want you to know I love you. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Tara’s eyes welled up with tears, nose stuffed as she breathed heavily. Forcing her eyes to meet yours, her head tilting to sink into your warmth further. “Can I come with you?” She asked, voice cracking. “Please?” She didn’t want to go another day without your innocence in her life. The clueless look on your face whenever Chad made a dirty-minded joke. The purest emotions when Tara first took your virginity. How you looked up at her, afraid. She missed how you clung to the warmth of her body that night and how it seemed to link the both of you in unexplainable ways.

She didn’t want to let any of it go.

Hearing her plead made your heart shatter, swallowing the lump in your throat. You hated leaving her as you did. The way it went was traumatizing for not only her but for yourself. Seeing Amber hurt you as she did, not a day went by that you wished you hadn’t listened to her. You could be living with Tara in New York and going forth with a life you envisioned with her. Which only made it harder for you to deny her.

“You know you can’t, baby.” Tara’s face twisted, head bowing as you held her cheeks. “But-“ You placed your index finger under her chin, forcing her brown orbs to connect with yours. “-I’m always going to be near. I’ll just be…a little more quiet for you.”

Tara couldn’t comprehend how you could smile through those words. How even the faints tremble of your lips didn’t sway the light in your eyes. To be fair, she never understood it even when you were alive. But that’s why she fell in love with you in the first place. You never decided to put yourself first when it came to her or your guys’ friends. You kept a caring and warm glaze in your eyes that anyone would underneath. She just didn’t want to let it go.

“And even when you feel like everything is falling around you. I’m always going to be here.” You pressed your hand to her chest, fingers slightly curling into the fabric. An immense heat radiated from the touch and filled Tara’s body. “I’m always going to love you, Tara. No matter what happens, I’ll be waiting here for you.”

Tara shook her head, watching you step away. “Just let me come with you-!” When she took the first step, the floor gave out. The wind whistled past her, hollowing her senses until she gasped, shooting up from her bed.

“Tara! Hey, hey, hey! You’re okay. Breathe.” Sam’s voice was acknowledged, but Tara couldn’t stop her chest from rapidly falling and rising. Choked breaths restrained and cut in half. Tears began to break through the wall she had placed months ago, leaving her a weeping mess in her sister's arms.

Why couldn’t you be real?

[kipsels]

Something Precious

Lumine x Zhongli

Trigger Warning: Pregnancy

Lumine liked to joke that Zhongli knew her body better than she did. The combination of his heightened senses and his observant nature meant he was cued into every little detail, every little change.

So it really shouldn’t have surprised her that Zhongli realised she was pregnant just from the slightest shift in her scent, well before any symptoms or physical changes could set in.

There had been shock, but there had also been so much joy.

Being in a space to finally have a family was a blessing all of its own, but knowing it was real… that was something immense.

It was also then that Lumine learned she had only seen the tip of the iceberg when it came to Zhongli’s protective instincts beforehand.

She handled most of it with grace. If he brewed her four different types of herbal tea that were meant to ease morning sickness, she would drink them. If he served her fortified soups and stews that were supposed to support the baby’s development, she would eat them. When her belly began to swell, she agreed to his request to swap her commissions for lighter errands and put her sword aside.

And okay, she might have chewed him out when he suggested she remain in her teapot domain for the entire length of her pregnancy because he was certain the fluctuating energy in the ley lines would have unintended consequences, but he was going a bit far that time.

Still… Though it might have felt a little overbearing, every time Zhongli got down on his knee in front of her to press his forehead against her belly and murmur sweet words to their child, the grumpy cast over her heart crumbled into a lovesick gooey mess.

But this.

This was something else.

Lumine stood in the entryway of their bedroom, her jaw dropping to the floor. Their furniture had been pushed against the walls, leaving an open space in the centre of the room.

Large, fluffy pillows and rich, blankety throws covered the entire floor, as if a small tornado had run through the place and dumped a merchant's entire stock in there. Warm colours of amber and gold shone in the afternoon sunlight, quietly beckoning her forth.

And in the centre of it stood Zhongli, his coat discarded and shirtsleeves rolled up, with his brow pinched as he plucked at a pillow as if its position disturbed him.

Perfectly human looking, and perfectly not.

“Zhongli, a-are you nesting?” She asked while she hid her budding smile behind her hand.

She knew that look- watched as he straightened up his posture and raised his index finger, furrowing his brow as he readied himself for an explanation.

What excuse would he come up with?

That he was ‘simply redecorating’, or he was ‘removing hazards’?

But the explanation never came. His mouth remained open as if the words sat at the tip of his tongue, and Lumine felt her smile grow as he struggled.

She waited as his mouth finally clicked shut, his eyes downcast as he looked down at the plethora of pillows surrounding him.

“I… suppose you’re right,” Zhongli said, his hand falling to the side as he looked baffled by his own admission, “I am nesting.”

Lumine could not stop herself, peals of laughter bubbling up inside her as Zhongli gave her a guilty side-eye.

“I am sorry, my dear. I know my tendencies leave me getting a little carried away.”

“Zhongli, it’s fine… But you know you don’t need to do all this, right? Our bed was perfectly fine,” Lumine questioned, her eyes scoping out the room to try find any surface that wasn’t covered in decadent throw blankets.

He peered at her with those magnetic eyes of his, capturing her heart all over again with his words. “I understand but… Lumine, your body is protecting something far more precious than any treasure, a miracle I once never dared to dream of."

"Can you fault me from wanting to protect you both in turn?”

Lumine felt herself soften, and she raised her arms up, “Carry me? Please?”

Zhongli’s body visibly wilted with relief at her request, and she soon found herself scooped up in his arms as he took them to the middle of his haphazard nest.

He cradled her gently as he brought her down onto the floor, the softness of the pillows and throws against her aching body leaving her sighing in relief.

Zhongli curled himself around her, one hand laid protectively over her stomach. She felt his deep breaths flutter the hair on the back of her head, the soft sound of his quiet purring reaching her ears.

“Feel better now?” She asked as his thigh nudged her legs apart, tucking himself even closer.

“Knowing you are both safe, that is all I need.”

Lumine placed her hand over his, her fingers curling in between the gaps of his own. She could feel his contentment as if it was her own, a blanket of comfort that felt warmer than any else.

“So…How much did this all cost?” She asked, her voice already drifting with sleep.

“It is of no consequence.”

“It is if the debt collectors come after us.”

-Fin-

[dystopicjumpsuit]

DJ!

For your ficlets, could I request

'Mumbling unintelligibly into the embrace'

With Scorch from Delta Squad?

He's a soft boi really, and if anything happens to him in the finale, I will be cry 😭😭

Love you! ❤️💜💗♥️💚💓💖💙😍

A/N: Hi @arcsimper5! I’m so relieved to know that the person claiming to be Scorch in TBB was in fact an identity thief, and that the real Scorch is safe and happy and hanging out with Sev, whom he scooped up from Kashyyyk as soon as Scorch flipped the Empire the bird and dipped after Order 66. This ficlet takes place shortly before the brothers reunite. 💛💛💛

Pairing: Scorch x Reader (GN, has a pet vulptex named Lyca because I really want a pet vulptex and I would name her Lyca)

Rating: T (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 485

Warnings and tags: nightmares; panic symptoms; angst; hurt comfort; cuddles; Scorch blew up canon with a thermal detonator and the galaxy was a better place for it

Summary: Scorch grapples with the aftermath of Kashyyyk.

Suggested Listening:

This fic smells like: Pillowtalk Poet by Pinrose (rumpled sheets, soft musk, quiet whispers)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Scorch lurched forward, his eyes snapping open before he even realized he was awake. Sweat beaded on his skin as he sat up in bed, and he shoved the blankets away, suddenly overheated and overwhelmed with claustrophobia. He heard a faint tinkling sound followed by a small whimper as your pet vulptex nuzzled him gently, her cold nose bringing him back to his body. 

“Hey, Lyca,” he gasped. 

He gave her a reassuring pat, then scrubbed his hand over his head, blinking hard as he tried to get his bearings in the darkened bedroom. His thumb traced over the smooth scar where his inhibitor chip had been removed, a grim reminder of a terrifying reality.

The sheets rustled, and he knew he’d awakened you. Kriff.

“Scorch?” you murmured hoarsely, reaching for him. “Are you all right?”

Your hand rested on his shoulder, solid and comforting, and he reached for it with his own, holding onto you tightly, afraid that if he let go you might vanish into nothingness.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Just a bad dream.”

You were quiet for a moment, then you sat up and scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him. “Kashyyyk?”

He nodded, burying his face into the nook between your neck and shoulder as he clung to you. He mumbled against your skin as you stroked your hand up the back of his neck to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Hm?” you asked as you pressed your lips against his head.

“I miss him so much,” he repeated, squeezing his eyes shut tight to keep the stinging tears from falling.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know you do. We’ll find him, I swear to you. We’ll get him back.”

“I should have gone back,” he choked as his throat constricted with grief. “I should have—”

“Stop,” you said firmly. “What happened was not your fault.”

“But—”

“It wasn’t.” You tightened your arms around him, holding him close. “You can’t keep blaming yourself like this, or it’s going to eat you alive.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied. “All that matters is what we do now. You told me you think Sev is still alive, right?”

“I know he is,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“Then he needs you to be on top of your game.” You kissed the side of his head again, then whispered, “I am here for you. I will do whatever you need me to do. But I can’t do it alone. We’ll get through this together, and we will find him, I promise.”

Slowly, he nodded, then pulled away just enough to look into your eyes as they glittered subtly in the semi-darkness. He rested his forehead against yours as he sighed, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve better,” you said quietly as your lips brushed against his in the lightest kiss imaginable. “You deserve everything I can give, and more.”

---

Want to request a ficlet? Check out this list of prompts! Requests are open, but my writer's block is still plaguing me, so I might be a little slow in filling them, but I will fill them!

Want more Delta Squad? I have Sev fluff and spice!

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

[needlereads]

Makes You Unsteady 2

Bucky Barnes x agent!Reader

Warnings: fem!reader; not canon compliant at all; pining Bucky; soft feels; actually no plot only feels;

“So I take it you no longer need your weighted blanket?” Darren smirked.

You frowned. “What?”

Sita looked up from the chess game. “You use a weighted blanket?”

You nodded.

“I heard it helps some people with anxiety symptoms,” Sita set down her rook.

You hummed. “It does. I don’t know the science behind it but the pressure helps me relax.”

“And helps me from having to hug you twenty-four seven when you’re feeling off your game.” Darren blew a kiss at you, which you grudgingly pretended to catch and put in your pocket. “I just figured from now on, you’ll have something more appealing to aid you. Something more muscular, you know?”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, but I am right, aren’t I?”

“Are you talking about James?” Sita asked.

“Of course I’m talking about James,” Darren replied.

“What is it you’re saying about me?” James strolled into the room. You glanced at him and winced.

Darren obliged with an answer. “That you are the new and improved weighted blanket for our beautiful agent.”

Your eyes shifted away from everyone, feeling torn between grumpy at your friend and embarrassed to be teased. James took a seat next to you, close enough to brush the sides of your thighs.

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. You gaped at him, then glared at the pleased little smirk on his lips. The very same that tempted you to kiss.

Darren and Sita snickered.

-*-*-*-*

“Sorry I didn’t mean to ignore you. Just excited about this project.” You quickly shut your laptop and placed it to the side. Peering at James, you finally shifted to face him. He watched your eyes roam over him, first his face, dropping down to his chest and torso, and even tilting your head to look at his ears. You opened your mouth, closed it, then tried again.

“Can…Do you mind? If I just…” You fingers found the opening of his jacket and with his assistance, peeled it away from him. You continued your examination after settling at his back. You hadn’t tried to touch him after taking off his jacket, yet he had to hide a shiver knowing your eyes were focused so intently on his body.

“Is there something you’re looking for?” he asked.

“Just checking out how the op went.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Turning around he said, “I’m fine. Nothing happened to me.”

“That is a blatant lie, Barnes.” You tone was light, not accusatory. “You led the infiltration into heavily guarded terrorist headquarters. People were definitely shooting at you.”

“I heal fast.” It was as good as a confession that he did get hurt.

“I knew it.” Your eyes flashed in interest. “Let me see it. Please. And it has nothing to do with me being weirdly fascinated by your enhanced healing that defies natural biology. I was worried. I mean, not too worried, because obviously if you had been seriously injured I would have heard and not allowed you anywhere outside of the med wing and you wouldn’t be sitting here in front of me.” You paused you rambling. “Sorry. May I see it?”

How could he say no to you when you looked at him like that. He lifted his shirt to reveal two pink bullet wounds, freshly healed over the left side of his rib cage.

“I will never get over that,” you murmured.

You fingers ghosted over the wounds. At the chime from your phone you flinched, pressing forward just enough for his torso to graze against you fingers. You drew a light circle around one of the pink scars, then seemed to grow fully aware that you were touching his bare skin.

“Sorry.” You dropped you hand.

He ached for your touch on him.

Why did you feel breathless suddenly? It couldn’t be his gentle gaze.

“It’s okay.”

Or the way his low voice sounded like a purr.

“Um,” you averted your eyes, reached for your phone. “Darren just texted. Says there’s free tacos in the dining court. Something about Agent Jeffords treating everyone to celebrate the birth of his daughter. Shall we?”

“Sure, yeah.” James got to his feet, and had to blink back the exhaustion pounding behind his eyes.

You frowned. “Or maybe you should rest?”

“I could go for a taco before bed.”

You smiled. God, as long as you kept smiling so sweetly, he would stay up all night and eat a hundred tacos.

After pulling on his jacket, he called your name.

“Yes?” you replied, emerging from your bedroom with a cardigan.

Words fumbled in his throat. He hadn’t expected this to be easy, but James couldn’t bring himself to verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t want you to think he expected anything of you.

“Uh, actually it’s nothing. Come on. Tacos are waiting for us.”

As you led the way to the door, James kept his eyes on his feet. Why had he come here? Being in your space just made him ache with need for more. More of your voice, your small hands reaching for him in concern, your hair tickling his arm, your silhouette dancing in the corner of his vision, reminding him you were real and with him and safe. He hadn’t been able to resist pressing into your touch earlier, wishing his skin could be branded by the pattern you drew on him.

“James.”

Suddenly, you were face to face.

You weren’t sure what had come over you. There was a persistent yearning in you that you were afraid would be tainted with your own fears as soon as you walked out this door. Dropping your hand from the door knob, you whirled around, found him a mere inch from you. You had to tilt your face up to meet his gaze. And then you were no longer afraid of your own desires.

His eyes were impossibly soft, reverent, and the shade of a clear spring brook. You felt like prayers were answered by those kinds of eyes.

The only way you could look away was to fulfill your goal to wrap your arms around his waist. Your ear pressed to his chest and when his arms came around you, you melted.

“Could you…please squeeze me harder?” you asked. When he hesitated and ducked his head a little to try catching your eye, you hid your face in his chest. “I like firm hugs.” You grimaced against him. Did that sound weird?

James couldn’t resist grinning and obliging you. He pulled you tighter in his embrace, and you breathed a sigh of pleasure. Darren may have been right about your new muscular weighted blanket.

Why hadn’t you asked him to hug you before? You could skip tacos and just fall asleep in his arms.

Lucky for you, by the time you made it through some chit chat with the on-site crew and barely two tacos, James was dead on his feet. He went without question with you back up to your room.

He had already cleaned up before coming to see you, so you settled under the covers, and you took his hands in yours and watched as he drifted off to sleep. You pressed yourself closer, letting his heavy arm curve over your waist.

[niuniente]

I stumbled upon above image from this blog and went “Huh, that’s exactly how my fingernails grow. I know it can be a sign of a severe health problem but doctors haven’t found anything and my fingernails have looked like that for my whole life”. (I’d like to grow my nails long but I can’t because the pressure of the curving is too much and painful.)

(and here’s a pic of healthy nails, growing as they should)

I checked the origin of the photo and found the blog I just mentioned. It’s run by an English person who was diagnosed with BJHS - Benign Joint Hybermobility Syndrome. I read all the person’s experiences and symptoms and yikes! That’s me! (with overlapping IBS and iron deficiency which can’t be treated)

“Benign meaning “it will not kill me,” not that it’s all fluffy-kittens-and-sunshine. Joint Hypermobility meaning my joints move too much in the wrong ways (yes, “double jointed,” though of course I have only a single set of each joint). Syndrome meaning that this problem creates a cascade of other issues throughout my body. BJHS is a connective tissue-based disorder. Somewhere along the line, my genetics have made it so that I don’t either produce enough of, or don’t process completely, the protein collagen. Collagen is like the scaffolding for every connective tissue in  your body. Connective tissues include: skin, muscles, ligaments, tendons, hair, bones, eyes, blood vessels, spinal discs, cartilage, the intestines, the heart, the liver… basically, everywhere. In fact, I can’t actually name a part of the body that doesn’t contain it.”

Here are the blog person’s experiences VS my experiences

Insomnia: did I mention the hyper-wired, jazzed-up, over-talkative, never-shuts-down nature of my brain? That I get more hyper the more exhausted I become? That I used to sleep so lightly that my roommate in college could wake me up by writing in her journal? Did I mention that, without the right meds, I probably get one or two nights of truly deep, restful sleep… a year? Me: Yup! I sleep so slightly that when I had a flatmate, I woke up when she touched the handle of her door. Though my insomnia isn’t as bad as this persons, I do regularly need melatonin to sleep normally. Otherwise I can’t fall asleep until 8am, even if I was super tired during the day. Otherwise I sleep well.

Liver metabolism: I have serious problems processing medications, as I have a liver that is slow to metabolize chemicals. I cannot take a very long list of drugs, including most pain killers. This also includes naturopathic treatments… even my own hormones! I get side effects (or no effects) with everything I take. As my naturopath likes to say: “You just walk by a chemical, and it affects you.” Me: My shiatsu healer said that my liver is not working properly. I have hormonal problems. Even with the IUD I still get them monthly, though IUD has improved my health tremendously.

Complex PTSD and anxiety: like the stuff combat veterans get, only not quite. Caused by excessive exposure to stressful situations that one cannot escape, like, say… a bully at work (not saying that was my situation. Just as an example…). Though I received great treatment, people with BJHS are prone to stuff like this: fight or flight, remember? Me: I’m getting better but I’m 24/7 anxious more or less. I hope I can continue having anxiety medication for “bad things” like traveling. Do you know how annoying it is that you love traveling and have traveled the same journey for 10+ years and your anxiety still says “Okay but this time, something bad CAN happen!!” I was also pretty much mute for 12 years. My muscles are tense 24/7 due hyperactive nervous system and anxiety.

Heart palpitations: yucky, but harmless Me: Sometimes they happen, ugh...

Irritable bowel syndrome Me: TELL ME ABOUT IT QoQ The IUD has helped with this, too, as apparently I also have endometriosis which causes IBS to some.

Sinus problems and severe allergies (go immune system, go!) Me: YUP! Just got finally an allergy medication after sneezing daily, 20 times a day for 30 years. I new life has began! My nose isn’t running! I don’t need to have a truckload of tissues everywhere!

GERD (bad acid reflux) Me: And it gets worse with hormonal changes... I’ve got 4 different medications for this.

Poor balance and an inability to fully understand where my body is in relation to everything else. Me: Not really my issue but I do get clumsy with hormonal chances. It’s a common joke between me and my sister by now.

An inability to regulate body temperature, including both freezing extremities and excessive sweating, sometimes at the same time Me: This is genuinely THE WORST! It’s -30C outside, I go there half-naked, walk for 3 minutes and I’m sweating like a little big. All my clothes are trenched with sweat in 10 minutes. I’m inside and it’s 23C and I need wool socks and wake up with a sore throat because it’s too cold. I also “catch” the temperatures easily and shower (or sauna) is then the only option. If I catch “cold”, I will not warm up no matter how warmly I dress and sit in front of a heater. If I catch “hot”, I will not cool down even if I sat in front of a fan naked with ice-cubes on my body.

Hair that breaks easily and nails that are bent and curl off the tips of my fingers, as well as fingers that wrinkle like I’ve been in the tub for days Me: Yes. I need to use hair oil daily and baby oil for body and my eyes are like Sahara desert. Nails curve and my fingers are always wrinkly.

I have painful big toe joints, so no high heels for me. Walking long distances can be a disaster, so good shoes are very important. I suffer from plantar fasciitis, which means the bottoms of my feet hurt, especially in the morning. Me: Same. I went to doctor to complain how my toes hurt but they couldn’t find anything. My soles hurt extremely easily - like 5h walking and I’m already in pain. Doesn’t matter if I’m 45kg or 100kg in weight, it still hurts the same. Fingers hurt all the time.

My immune system is hyper-active as well, mounting elaborate, full-scale mucus or lymph node or other responses to mild colds and viruses. I’m sick a lot longer than normal people, and a lot more seriously, yet it’s not due to a poor immune system, but rather one that’s too strong. Me: Same. Last time I was sick was in 2017. It was just a normal cold but it took 4 weeks from me to recover. I was bedridden for a week. I’ve not gotten covid and despite my shitty bowl I don’t get sick easily. I don’t remember the last time I was sick prior 2017. Probably in 2007? With a bit runny nose though.

Loose connective tissues mean joints that move too easily, which means pinched nerves and pain. Think about how it feels when you throw your back out, or get carpal tunnel syndrome. Now imagine this feeling all over your body.  My nerves get pinched, causing several types of pain. I get back pain, obviously. I get numbness and mild paralysis in my thighs and hands. I get weakness in my legs and arms, and sciatica/restless leg sensations if I sit too long. Worst of all, I get parasthesia in my fingers and toes (that’s the tingling, painful sensation you get when you sit funny and your foot goes numb, then starts to wake up). I have this sensation, in varying degrees, all the time. Me: I’m literally in pain all around my body from neck below, for 24/7. Only the level of pain differs. I get easily numbness to arms and legs. I’ve started to suffer of restless legs and middle body with heavy jolting, especially if I’m tired. If I’m stressed and go to sleep, my nose and lips switch a lot.

[josephquinnswhore]

Girl Dad

Pairing: Ex Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: Joel makes a series of mistakes that cause you to leave the QZ with Tommy, finding a community to settle down with. Joel reunites with you to find he had daughters he never knew about.

Word Count: 2.8k

Content Warning: pregnancy, failed abortion, birth, failed abortion, death of a twin, typical tlou violence.

18 years, you and Joel had been together, never married but you both decided early on; it was something that could wait until you were ready, you were convinced you really would last forever, regardless of marriage. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where things went wrong, when Sarah died Joel didn’t shut you out, he leaned into you more, depended on you as if you were his lifeline. You felt the loss as hard as Joel did, you officially adopted Sarah the day she died, your heart felt so bitter to this day at the way she was taken from you, it would be your first loss as a mother, the first daughter you would lose. The loss had you both closer than you ever had been, a trio travelling across the country accompanied by Tommy, the three of you stuck together like superglue.

At the time, finding the Boston QZ felt like a blessing, paradise within the giant walls and safety of order and authority. It felt like things were almost normal, everyone worked and earned credits, currency used like money to buy everything you needed to survive. 

The closest instance you could pinpoint the beginning of Joel’s hostility was when you had worked 10 hours a day, teaching children basic education, because was still important, even at the end of the world. A sickness had been bothering you for days-okay, a week, you’d experienced nausea and stomach cramps, with no blood to indicate it was your period behind the symptoms. You used 4 credits on an out of date pregnancy strip that showed a positive result. Turns out even out of date pregnancy strips can detect pregnancy, you were hesitant to tell Joel, he was a fantastic dad to Sarah, but he wasn’t the same, he was a broken man and you didn’t know how he would react to you having a baby.

You decided impulsively to drop the bomb over dinner, a half warm-can of pasta, interrupting Joel in the process, “got some extra credits today for those pills-” “I’m pregnant.” Your brain was running a million miles a minute, eyes scanning Joels face for a reaction when he started to frown. oh no. The lines in his forehead deepening, probably causing more stress lines. “I’ll see if I can find some pills that will get rid of it next time me and Tess go out, it’ll be fine we just need to get rid of it. Darlin’?” Joels eyes are watching you as he leans forward in his seat, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, “Joel maybe we don’t need to get rid of the baby.” Joel scoffs and stands up, the chair squealing as it scoots across the floor, “this is no world for any goddamn baby to be raised in y/n. Don’t be stupid.” You bit your lip as you stood, stepping toward Joel your hands in defense, “this could be a good thing Joel, we could even name her Sar-” Joel snaps at you loudly, “don’t finish that sentence, you’re really pushing it.” His body stiffened at the thought of you naming that clump of cells after his deceased real daughter. 

“We’re not doing this, you’re getting rid of it and that final.” Joel tells you sternly, leaving the apartment, slamming the door on the way out. You slump back into the uncomfortable embrace of the steel chair, accepting that Joel wouldn’t accept this baby as his own, it was a hard thought to swallow. You lean forward to rest your head on the dining table, eyes fluttering as you fall asleep in a position that your back would complain about in the morning.

A clink noise woke you up in front of you, the sunshine filtering through the square window by the bed, you had slept through the night on the damn dining room table, your back aching and cracking as you sat up made you groan, eyes met with Joel, who had placed a half a glass of water in front of you and two small pills rolled onto the large side as he threw them in front of you, standing over you as you take them into your hands and rub your eyes. Your eyes can’t meet Joels as he watches you, you drink the water in the glass, relieving some dryness in your throat as you swallowed the pills. You slam the cup on the table standing to turn away from Joel, his hand grabbed your wrist, “open your mouth.” You turn to him with a frown, “are you fucking serious right now Joel?” He didn’t answer just starred at you blankly, you open your mouth and lift your tongue, “Happy asshole?” You spat and walked into the bathroom where you turned on the cold water and held your arms around yourself protectively, “sorry baby i’m so sorry. Mama wanted you so badly.” Joel stood on the other side of the door, forehead pressed against the chipping paint, his heart filled with regret, he just couldn’t do it again, he couldn’t lose Sarah all over again.

Months went by and Joel had never been so distant with you, you had taken a few weeks of grieving to yourself, then slowly started to come back to Joel, the hugs, kisses, but no sex. His rejection weighing deep on your heart and the insecurity eating you alive, he thought you were disgusting, why else wouldn’t he have sex with you? For weeks the question ate you alive. 

The question was answered a few nights later when Joel stumbled in, drunk at 3:30am, you kept your eyes closed as he fell onto the bed next to you, the smell of Lavender and whisky was a scent you would never forget, you started to put the pieces together.

The extra smuggle runs with Tess. Coming home late. Not being intimate with you. Joel wanting you to abort your baby, all because of Tess. Your heart broke, you sobbed silently next to Joel as you mourned 18 years of your love, the loss of your daughter, the man you were meant to spent forever with. You started to emotionally detach yourself, Joel didn’t notice how you pulled away, never noticed how you wouldn’t touch him, would scoot further away when he lie down in the bed, would skip meals with him.

Joel only noticed something was wrong with you when it was too late, weeks too late. Tommy was going on a run far North; he was determined to find humanity outside of the worsening violence that happened daily in the Boston QZ, he always spoke and hoped of a nicer place, somewhere more communal. You begged Tommy to tag along, you would make yourself useful, you wouldn’t be a liability; “please.” You beg Tommy, he sighs deeply, “what about Joel?” You shake your head, “he’s with Tess now.” All Tommy hears is a mumble from you, “oh sweetheart.” He pulled you in for a hug and checked your bag for supplies, making sure you have a suffienct amount of equiptment. 

“Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Joels booming voice watched you, stopping right in front of Tommy. “She wants to come Joel, that’s her choice.” Joel grabs your wrist, and you shake him off, “isn’t Tess expecting you?” Joels face drops and his eyes soften, “darlin’ no, no. Come inside we can talk about this, okay?” You shake your head, “sorry Joel, it was over the day you made me swallow those pills.” Tommy looks between the two of you, confused. “I regret it, everyday.” You offer him a small smile, not wanting your goodbye to be hostile, “me too Joel. Goodbye.” You leave Joel standing there, heartbroken and truly alone for the first time since Sarah had been born. The ache in his heart begged for you to mend it, for him to chase after you and beg, grovel if he needed to, but his legs were frozen in place and all he could do was watch you leave.

 “Mama, my arm.” You’re met with your daughter sobbing, tears stained her red chubby cheeks as saliva slobbered down her lips as she wailed, pointing to her arm. “Oh Elliarna, let mama kiss it better baby.” You soothed as you cuddled her, the small scrape was red and barely peeled back a layer of skin. “Which bandaid do you want baby, Princess or Horses?” The tears stop momentarily, “hmmm, horsies please mama, can we ride the horsies and go and see sissy Sar?” Tears gathered in your lashline as you applied the bandaid carefully, “sure baby, go and ask Tommy to help get your boots on.” Her footsteps thundered down the hall to meet Tommy, the sore on her arm completely forgotten about. 

She came back speed walking down the hall to you where you wait by the front door, pulling one of Tommy’s warmer jackets over your shoulders, covering the vunerable exposed bump of your pregnant stomach. “Tommy told me stop running in the house mama, so I did.” You smile at Tommy walking towards you, his shy smile making him look so handsome, “good listening Elliarna, let’s go and feed the horses.” She skipped ahead of you out the front door in joy, Tommy holding your hand in his, “she’s going to be a great sister.” You smile at Tommy in agreement, a protective hand over your bump, “I have no doubts Tommy, you’re going to be a great dad, you have been a great dad.” Redness spreads from Tommys cheeks to his ears, you had been together for three years, shortly before you gave birth you found yourselves romantically involved. Tommy was there when you found this community in Wyoming, when you had pregnancy complications and went into pre-mature labour at 36 weeks because you were having twins, Elliarna survived, the smaller baby didn’t. You never thought you would lose two daughters in a lifetime. You had suffered enough. Tommy shared the same anxiety as you carried his own child, 8 months into your pregnancy you were as far along as you were when you gave birth three years ago. Praying to whoever was listening this baby was born alive, healthy.

“Hey, it’ll be okay sweetheart.” Tommys fingers squeezed your own and offered a sweet smile. You bring his hand up to your lips and kiss lovingly, finding the same appraise in your eyes. “Mama, Tommy look, there is new people on the horsies.” 

You look up, a familiar face looking back at you and Tommy, a young girl clinging to him on the back of the horse they shared. Your mind had to be playing tricks on you, a delusion. Joel fucking Miller was jumping off the horse, you pickup Elliarna and rush to your house, tears gathering in your eyes, “what’s wrong mama are you hurt?” You sniffle and nod your head, “yeah baby mama’s hurt.” She rubs your pregnant stomach which makes you weep more, “is the baby ok?” You place your hand over her small one, “the baby is okay Elli.” Your daughter frowns, “then what’s wrong mama.” She reaches up to wipe your tears away and you chuckle, “let’s go outside and see sissy? Mama can explain it better okay?” 

She smiles at you and pulls on your hand leading you outside, “okay mama.” 

“Tommy.” Joel yells rushing to his younger brother, “Joel.” Tommy breathes, embracing each other, seeing each other for the first time in 3 years. “Was that..?” Tommy nods, “yeah, we made it here together.” Joel looks to Tommy, “and the kid?” Tommy huffs, a cloud exiting his lips, “your daughter, Joel.” Joel frowns and shakes his head, “no, that not possible, she took the-” Tommy placed his hand on Joels shoulder, “they didn’t work.” Joel’s breath stutters, choking back a sob, falling into Tommys arms. “There’s something you should see before you meet her, follow me.” Joel follows Tommy towards the house you retreated to, walking to the back of the house to a small garden shed, your body crouched down with you-his daughter. In front of you was a small wooden cross painted white, with black letters Melody Sarah Miller, small pink flowers painted around the name with a date. 07/15/2020. 

You put the small butterfly antique back with the other decorations that the town had donated for your daughter. You wipe your tears as you turn around with your daughter, Joel standing beside Tommy you immediately start shaking your head no, “sweetheart he deserves to know.” Your teary eyes met Tommy’s and your hand instinctively cradled your pump to protect it. Joel watches the interaction between the two of you, sweet, affirmative, loving, you’re pregnant. Joel’s heart sinks, regretting every choice he made to push you into his brother’s arms. 

You turn to Joel with sad eyes, he feels his demeanor crumbling at the sight of you, teary eyed and vunerable, your daughter shying away from him. “The pills didn’t terminate the pregnancy, I was pregnant with twins, I had alot of complications and went into early labour, Elliarna was the larger twin so she survived, Melody didn’t, I had to bury our daughter Joel and you weren’t here.” Your eyes began weeping as your body shook as you sobbed, reliving the feeling of despair, hopelessness and loss as you look at him. “I’m so sor-” You shake your head, “don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare Joel.” Joel’s body slumps in defeat, you were right, he doesn’t get to cop out and apologise now once all the hardship had been done, alone. He didn’t feel the grief, the void and emptiness losing this baby condemned you with. “You’re right.” Joels admission confuses you, him owning his actions calmed you a fraction, enough for you to take a breath. “Come here Elliarna sweetie, meet your daddy, remember how mama and Tommy told stories of your daddy Joel?” Elliarna steps out front behind you and in front of Joel. Joel’s eyes water, she looked exactly like him, her deep brown eyes mirrored his, her dark brown hair was sat in messy waves, the curve in her nose was a definite trait she inherited from him, the freckles on her cheeks softened the chubby-ness of her face. “Hi daddy.” Joel drops to his knees and holds his daughter, the weight of not missing 3 years of his daughter life weighing heavily on him, “hi baby girl.” Joel sniffles into his daughter shoulder, finding solace in the way she looks so familiar to Sarah. He pulls back and studies her face, afraid she will disappear from his arms. 

“She looks like her.” Joel whimpers, looking up at you, the statement overwhelming you and your lip wobbled. “Yeah, she does.” Elliarna insepcts Joel’s face and giggles, scratching his patchy salt and pepper beard, “you must be old daddy, you are all grey.” Joel chuckles and his chest feels a load of weight lifted off him, “yeah baby, i am getting old, aren’t I?” Elliarna giggles, “how old?” You scold her gently, “that rude Elliarna.” Joel dismisses it, “I’m 56, and you, you’re 3, right?” Joel looks to you for conformation, standing up his knees crack as he lifts up his daughter in his arms, “yeah, she’s 3.” Joel looks between you and Tommy, not displaying any affection in front of him, “and you two are? You’re..” Joel trails off noticing your pregnant belly. “Uh, yeah. We’re 8 months along now.” Tommy replies, testing the water. Joel nods, accepting the fact that you looked happier with Tommy than you ever did with him. “Now,” you start, looking at Joel, “who’s the girl”? Joel walks with his daughter in his arms, you and Tommy following beside him hand in hand, back towards the young girl that was left behind with the horses, standing awkwardly. 

You rush to her and pull her into a bone crushing hug, your swollen bump pressing into her, she hugged you back, welcoming the affection. “Ellie, meet my daughter, Elliarna.” Ellie laughed, “no way, that’s so frigging cool,” she turns towards your daughter, “we have the same name! sort of.” Your daughter giggles at Ellie and you smile between the bond that Joel and Ellie have. “Didn’t know you were such a pimp Joel.” You all laughed; she was going to fit in well with you. “This is y/n, the woman that gave me this beautiful girl, and my brother, Tommy.” Ellie looked between the three of you and you laughed. “Welcome to the family Ellie.” Tommy gives you a sweet smile, “let’s go and have dinner, we can talk more over a hot meal and a warm house to sit in.” Everyone agrees, “thank you for givin’ me a chance, I know I ain’t deserve it.” Joel thanks you sincerely and you smile, “you’re a dad of four Joel, it’s who you were meant to be, who am I to keep you from that?” 

Tommy kisses you sweetly, admiring your strength and kindness, the love of his life, no one in the world would ever compare to you, silently thanking his older brother for his mistakes. Your family was almost complete, waiting on the arrival of your baby, with two watching over you.

[sarawritestories]

His Nightmare Part 2

Nash Wells x Female Reader

Her nightmare

His Nightmare Pt 1

His Nightmare Pt 3

Summary: Eobard is keeping Nash's body hostage, Y/N is frustrated with the potential threat about losing another person she cares about, and the one thing she dreads most returns.

Content Warning: Angst, Rage, grief, blood, death, murder, zombies?(it makes sense, i promise). Dark Nightmares, a symptom of a panic attack but is not named. Cliffhanger, no happily ever after yet.

Word Count: 1590

Tags: @eonash @twilightlover2007 @yetanotherwells @achromaticerebus

Y/N was sitting in the cortex as Barry and Cisco were in the pipeline talking to Eobard Thawne, who possessed Nash’s body. She was gnawing on her bottom lip as Frost walked in, “You alright, Y/L/N?”

The younger meta shrugged, “Define okay.” She released a sigh, looking up at Frost, “I was finally feeling as though my life was getting back into place. When Earth-2 was destroyed and not being able to tell anyone that Harry was gone, my family was just wiped out. And the Monitor made it where I couldn’t speak whenever I wanted to bring it up. It was crippling in more ways than one. I felt extremely alone, and Crisis took so much from us. My home was a constant reminder of what I lost, and Nash never questioned that I wanted to stay with him. Never faltered when I had my first nightmare and the numerous ones that followed it. I finally got to this point of feeling like my old self again of being happy with myself and happy in his company.” Slamming her fist against the table in frustration embers sparking from her fingers, causing Frost to jump and take a step back. “And Thawne went and fucking ruined that for me, again!”

Y/N looked at frost orange, consuming her irises in her eyes. “I’m tired of his games. He will not take Nash from me.” With that, she storms out of the cortex, leaving Frost to notice the scorch marks Y/N left on the table.

Storming to the cortex to see Barry and Cisco, arms crossed the evil speedster leaning toward the glass when his eyes glanced up to find Y/N at the end of the hall, her eyes bright orange, “Hello, Sweetheart. You can get closer, I won’t bite, hard.”

“I would suggest keeping your mouth shut before I do so for you in a permanent fashion,” Y/N snapped, being consumed by rage.

Her two best friends turn their expressions, shifting from confused to fear at her glowing eyes. “Oh shit,” Cisco muttered. As she approached the cell, Cisco grabbed her arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “He can’t hurt you, Y/N.”

“He’s right, I can’t hurt you physically,” he gave her a sly wink, “But one swift motion and I can take one more person from you, can’t I, Angel.”

Y/N became blinded by rage at Thawne’s use of Nash’s nickname for and lunged for the cell, Thawne not even flinching as Cisco and Barry held her back. “You, Son of Bitch! Bring him back, you Bastard!”

Thawne laughed as he pushed away from the glass as Y/N pushed her friends away, flames kissing her fingertips. Anger and pain overtaken her senses. She turned back, “Open the doors.”

“Y/N,” Barry slowly approached his partner, “I need you to calm down.” Moving closer, he noticed that her hands were shaking, “I know it hurts, I know you want Nash back. We all do, but that look in your eye, you want to kill Thawne, I’ve been there, I know what that feels like. Killing him will not bring Nash home.”

“Maybe not, but then Thawne can let me have peace finally.” Y/N gritted out through her teeth.

“I know, but Nash and the Council of Wells wouldn’t want that. They wouldn’t want you to kill on their behalf.” Barry cupped her cheek, her eyes slowly going back to her normal eye color, rage slowly dwindling as Cisco closed the door, cutting off Thawne’s view on the moment. Y/N looked at Barry and embraced him. Sobbing in his shoulder, she could feel Cisco wrapping his arms around her from behind, soothing her as she let out the tears she had been holding in all day.

The trio stayed in that position until Y/N sobs turned into soft hiccups, and Cisco led her to the med bay, where he insisted she lay down and get some rest. Not having the strength to fight him, she did what she was told, and she fell into a deep sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Y/N startled awake S.T.A.R Labs dark and empty, getting up she walked over to the cortex the sudden metallic stench assaulting her nose, and losing balance from a slippery substance on the floor, causing her to fall. Pain shooting from her head, she lifted her hand to see her hand covered in blood. Looking to her left, her eyes were met with Cisco’s eyes lifeless, and the light snuffed out of them

Y/N scrambled to get up and took a moment to regain her balance and take in the sight of the cortex with a sob, the bloody hand going up to her mouth in shock. Team Flash scattered across the room bloody, bruised, and lifeless. Her friends gone, why had she not been awake? Hands gripped her waist, and her body froze as the warmth of someone’s breath brushed against her ear. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Sweetheart.” Thawne’s low register caused a shiver down her spine as he gripped her tighter with the assumption that she was going to flee. He pressed her back against his front and gave her a tender kiss on the head. “Now, I can have you all to myself, and no one can stand in my way.”

Y/N did everything she could to keep the bile from crawling up her throat. Swallowing it down, her throat extremely dry, she whispered, “You killed them all, just for me?” she looked at Barry’s body his limbs twisted in every direction, a small trickle of blood poured from his mouth pooling beneath his head, Y/N could hear every drop of blood hitting the floor as if she gained super hearing overnight.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

She closed her eyes, and Thawne’s voice drowned the dripping blood.“Well, Barry surely had it coming, and to be fair, I did recruit some help.” At that electricity lit up the room, she opened her eyes and gasped and began wriggling in her captor’s arms, trying to break free as Savitar and Zoom loomed over Iris and Caitlin’s limp bodies.

She managed to turn and face Eobard to find Harry’s face. His lips and skin tinged blue from death, “You could have saved me, Princess.” She looked back to see zombie forms of the Council behind him, “You could have saved all of us. You let him kill us.”

“You abandoned us, Kitten.” H.R. spoke in a lifeless tone that scared the young meta. Getting out of Harry's arms, she created some distance to get her breathing back in order.

“You left me at the hands of Thawne, my body no longer mine to control, and it’s all on you, Angel,” Nash’s voice rang out.

Y/N fell to her knees, not caring that her knees cracked against the concrete or blood stained her dress. She wrapped her arms around her waist and began to rock herself in hopes it would calm her down. But she could feel the approach of the two speedsters grabbing her and lifting her and bringing her back to her feet. Her head hung low, guilt, shame, and grief, overtaking her ability and willingness to fight. The familiar sound of a hand moving rapidly caught her attention, but not enough to look up.

A hand gripped her chin and forced her head up as she was finally met with Eobard Thawne with the face he was born with and not the stolen face of Harrison Wells. A smirk ghosts his lips, “Goodbye, Y/N,” with his parting words, she watched as he shoved his hand through her chest.

Gasping, Y/N sprung from her mattress sweat, glistening her forehead as Barry startled from the chair. “Hey, what happened?” Barry shook off the grogginess as he saw his friend struggling to breathe. He approached her and guided her head, between her legs, “Take deep breaths. Inhale,” she inhaled along with him, “Exhale.” She exhaled, and they did that for a few moments as Y/N’s breathing went back to normal. Barry rubbed soothing circles on her back as the tears stained her cheeks.

“Did you have a nightmare?” She sat up, looking at her friend she nodded. “The same one?”

Y/N shook her head, and her voice came out strained, “Worse, so much worse.” She laid her head on Barry’s shoulder as he just soothed her.

~Meanwhile~

Nash was struggling in his bonds as Thawne began to pace back and forth. “Did you see how mad she was back there? I thought she would have killed me on the spot.” He got down to Nash’s level, “She does like you a ton though doesn’t she. I’ll make sure she has no memory of you when I have her back in my possession”

Anger flooded through Nash as he lunged to head but him but Thawne reacted just in time to avoid the strike. Nash groaned through the gag, his hands and wrist slick with blood from rubbing against the rope to break free. He tried to say, “Don’t you dare touch her!” but it only came out muffled.

Thawne held a hand to his ear, “What was that? Make sure to annunciate, Nash. I might have taken that as your blessing to do as I please with your little angel.” Fury flashed in Nash’s eyes as Thawne walked away with a wave. “I’m sure you will be seeing her soon. They are planning something I can feel it.” The speedster turned and gave him a wink, ”Sweet Dreams, Lover Boy.”

To Be Continued...

[yoshiyakiryu-archive]

Wanna talk about shiki being a lil fucked up?

Oh boy do I ever! Not to be predictable (glances at the joshneku mentioned in my bio) but I adore when things are flawed and messy and complicated and Shiki is all of those things. She's all of these things WHILE setting an example anyway of how to treat others, teaching Neku a lesson on the inner unseen thoughts and desires of others even while not fully getting it herself.

You never know how much of her is an act, a performance of unpersoning herself to match her perception of what everyone around her must be. There are times she acts out of pure impulse and emotion, such as making Neku strip or shutting down when she decides for all her, Beat, and Neku it wasn't worth it to finish the game, and these times where the facade really and truly breaks are times we see a person that is bored and selfish and despairing and thoughtlessly cruel in a very organic way. She tries to be Eri. She loves Eri. Eri is a cardboard cutout of everything she thinks she should be—beautiful, charming, smart, creative. Eri has good grades and a lot of friends and wears clothes like they're built to be displayed on her. Which makes it fascinating how "being Eri" manifests as wearing her body, as something superficial and skin deep.

Once she looks like Eri, she tries to smother all the parts of her that are inconvenient. The parts that need things and want more than she has. The self-loathing we see from her is probably a symptom of her larger pattern of not really understanding that other people are people as much as she is. She knows lying is sometimes good and necessary but hasn't worked out exactly where that applies yet, and has a demonstrable ability to be manipulative or cold in the face of others being erased. There's so many ways this could go wrong, viewing people as just bodies and tools and things to be decorated and prop each other up!

It's not a mistake or coincidence the final gun duel is a callback to the scene where Nekua chokes Shiki, and while I wouldn't call her misanthropic to any extent, there's a lot of ways in which Joshua's sentiments and behaviours mirror hers with regard to honestly, unpersoning, depression, blame, and appearance, and I think there's a lot to be said about the way Joshua starts the narrative a grotesque funhouse mirror of being in Neku's shoes and ending it by casting himself in Shiki's, with him being the obvious villain the fandom loves to point at as being unreasonable.

I think it'd be an absolute blast to explore the sides of her we know are dishonest, mocking, and prone to dehumanizing others without erasing the good parts of her the fandom likes to celebrate (and frequently the only ones they acknowledge) because I think her self-centeredness is fascinating especially in the context of her utterly trashed self-esteem she spends the game trying to get others to bolster by being kind

[thevede]

Corruption Game Ch.3 (Su Ji x Ha Rin)

Previous Chapter

Ch. 3

Su Ji

Nothing prepared her for the morning after. Her mind was in a foggy haze. Her vision dulled by the unyieldy moisture in her eyes. Her brain pounded, expanding and shrinking, threatening to escape from her skull. The entirety of her body felt weak and drowsy. 

She hovered over the toilet, wanting to be rid of all of the contents within her stomach, no scratch that, she wanted to be rid of her stomach entirely, cut it out of her body. 

Drool leaked out of the corner of her mouth. The nauseation was too difficult to bear. I don’t care anymore… I don’t care about anything anymore, just please let this end. 

This was death. This was how it feels to die. 

She needed to feel better… She needed to feel better… 

She leaned spineless against the bathroom wall, huffing for fresh air, but smelling her own breath infused with soju and stomach acid instead. She needed to feel better… Anything… 

Su Ji let her hand wander around her body, guiding her hand along her stomach. The cold touch shocked her skin, she trembled. The cold was nice though, it took away the burning pain. Her hand moved up, slowly, gently. She felt her ribs, they were like ripples, up, down, up, down… Then she reached her breast, soft and tender to the touch. The hand moved up more, reaching the pink peak of her mound… 

She wanted to feel good…

“Are you feeling better?” A voice interrupted her. She retracted her hand as fast as she could. 

Ha Rin had peeked her head in. The bitch kept encouraging her to take more shots last night. This is what you want to see, Baek Ha Rin? 

“Yes,” A wave of dizziness hit her again. “No… it’s still terrible.” She grabbed onto the toilet seat. 

Ha Rin smiled. “It’s okay. Rest up, we are not in a rush.” 

After what felt like an eternity of torment and three full bottles of water, her body was finally free of the symptoms of a hangover. She recovered at the perfect time as they checked out of their hotel and took a flight back to Incheon airport. 

She exited the black car, and shut the door. 

The window rolled down. “See you tomorrow, Su Ji.” Ha Rin said. 

“Bye, see you tomorrow.” She waved. 

When she got back to her home. She raced to the laundry machine to wash her clothes. It would not be ideal if her father found out she smoked. After that, she spent the rest of her Sunday making up for the assignments she has been slacking behind. 

She did her best to focus, but the memories of Jeju refused to escape her. She still couldn’t figure out Baek Ha Rin, the enigma. Why was she doing all this? Did Ha Rin like her? Did she really like Ha Rin? Question that could lead to infinite answers, forever puzzling… 

…

Monday was mundane compared to the more “turbulent” days she’s had. The classes passed normally, ignoring the constant fidgeting of her deskmate. 

Where did her English essay go? She remembered that she had put it in her desk drawer right under her English textbook. She grabbed all the stuff out of the drawer and checked them one by one. 

It wasn’t there. 

Maybe it’s in the locker or the bag. She stood up and went to the back of the classroom to check. Her little quest was interrupted by a shove from behind.

“Sung Su Ji, What are you doing?!” Pyo Ji Ae shouted. 

“What?” She turned and asked. Her tone flat. What does this nobody want?

“How can you just disappear during recess?! Don’t you know we are the ones suffering because of you? Seung Yi has been… ” The girl was emotional, her glasses foggy and her face red. 

“I don’t care.” She lied, she cared, she was happy they were being targeted. 

“What?!” Ji Ae’s voice went a pitch higher. 

Su Ji inched closer to the girl, close enough where she could feel the warmth from her body. She whispered: “You heard me. I don’t owe you anything. I will do whatever I want whenever I want.”

“Yah, Rank F. You are below…” Su Ji left, utterly uninterested in the conversation.  

She snuck into the music room. It was a great place to be alone in. The chairs were big and bulky, and if she sat in the back, passersby wouldn’t be able to see her. She sat and absent mindedly kicked the chair in front of her. 

She couldn’t just be Rank D, no, she needed to be at least C. 

In C, she was safe. C, that’s what she needed. She grabbed her phone and went onto the Pyramid Game app to check the last game’s votes. Five votes, five votes to get Rank C.

Who can she convince to vote for her? 

Baek Ha Rin. Could she trust Ha Rin? At this point, it’s not like she could trust anyone else. 

That’s one vote. 

Who else? 

The door of the music room barged open. Im Ye Rim stepped in wearing a headset and her gym clothes. 

“Why are you here?” Su Ji asked. 

Ye Rim wasn’t startled by her presence at all, she smiled at her instead. “Practicing my new set. Why are you here?”

Su Ji relaxed in her chair. “Because if I stay in the classroom for one more second, I’m going to want to kill everyone in there.” She didn’t bother to make anything up. 

“Including me?” Ye Rim asked, amused. 

“Including you.”

Ye Rim chuckled. “You’re funny.” 

Ye Rim went on the stage and practiced her routine. To Su Ji’s amateur eyes, Her moves were perfect. her body fluid and strong. Her movements flowed seamlessly, each step purposeful and precise, her muscles rippling beneath her clothes with every leap and turn. The sound of her feet tapping against the wood floor echoed. 

It was only a few minutes, but a captivating few.

After her set, Ye Rim paused to have some water and recover her breath. 

“Why do you play the game?” Su Ji asked her. “You are a trainee, aren’t you risking it all? If this leaks out into the public, your agency is going to drop you.”

Ye Rim took a swig from her bottle. “Are you going to leak it?”

“Maybe.”

“Do it then, not like it was my idea in the first place.”

“Whose is it?”

The girl shrugged and went back to her practice.  

When Su Ji came back to the classroom, she saw a familiar piece of paper in the trash can by the door. Was that her essay? She picked it out of the trash. It was. The paper was stained with shreddings of lead pencil and half of it was drenched in some kind of disgusting liquid. 

She looked around the classroom. Who could have done it? 

It’s not the bullies, it wasn’t their style, she shouldn’t rule them out. One of the nobodies, a Rank D, perhaps? Very possible. She hurried back to her desk, and hand copied everything onto a new piece of paper. That was a close call. 

…

Su Ji gazed at the view outside of the car as they smoked in peace. 

“Can you vote for me?” She asked Ha Rin. 

Ha Rin didn’t answer, she hummed her little tune in bliss.

She exhaled the smoke too quickly, and coughed a couple of times. “Ha Rin ah, can you vote for me?” She asked again.

“Why?” The girl stared at the seat in front her. Her eyes dazed and unfocused.  

“I don’t want to be F anymore.” 

“Why does it matter? It’s not like Da Yeon’s bothering you anymore.”

“I just don’t want to be at the bottom ever again.” It was the truth, she was better than most of the class, why does she deserve to be at the bottom? 

“Sure. I can give you votes” Ha Rin paused and looked at her. “But, I will need a favor from you.” 

“What is it?” She asked. 

It was that smirk again. “I will let you know when you need to.”

She hesitated. 

“Sure…” 

…  

A few days later

It was unusually hot and she sweated through her t-shirt as she practiced her dribbles. 

“That’s right, girls. Left, right, left, right, maintain the rhythm so the ball doesn’t fall from your hands.” The PE teacher repeated several times. Another five minutes of dribbling practice later, the bell rang. 

“Sung Soo Ji, can you bring the ball cart back to the storage room?”

“Yes, Mister Kim.” 

As she stepped into the room, she remembered the day when she saw Ja Eun under a safety cone, pummeled by volley balls. 

Bang! The door locked behind her as she tried to find a good spot for the cart in the cramped room. 

“What does Ha Rin find in you?” She turned around. It was the little brat, Bang Woo Yi. 

“Why? Are you jealous?” She said. An idea formed in her head. 

The brat practically foamed at her mouth. “You fucking bitch.” 

“Relax. I am not your rival. In fact, I can help. Put in a good word for you and all that.” She couldn’t hide her smugness. 

“Who the fuck are you?! You just came here, I’ve known Ha Rin for a year. We sit next to each other!” Woo yi shouted. 

Oh I’m going to enjoy this. “But she didn’t take you to Jeju, did she?” Su Ji teased. She did her best to make her face in a cunty disposition. 

“What?!” The girl screamed. Su Ji could see the disbelief on her face. 

“She took me to Jeju island last weekend. We had a lot of fun together. The beach, the spa, we had soju together… ”

Her voice shook. “You are lying… Why would she.” 

“Ask her if you want. I don’t care. But you noticed it, right? That’s why we’re talking right now. Because You noticed how close we've been…”

“Fuck you!” The brat lunged at her.  

Their hands grasped for each other's hair. Fingers entangled and nails dug into scalps as they grappled. 

Woo Yi pushed Su Ji against the cart. “I’m going to hurt…” Her threat was cut short by a knee to the stomach. The girl kneeled down onto the door, struggling for air as her drool dripped onto the ground. 

“We will both be around Ha Rin, so let’s not do this every time we meet, okay?”

Woo Yi looked up from her prone position, her eyes filled with venom. The hate was contagious, it ignited a flame of excitement within Su Ji. The heat spread throughout her body, replenishing her, energizing her. 

Blood boiled. Adrenaline rushed into her veins. She cupped Woo Yi’s  face and lightly slapped it. Once. Twice. Thrice. “You are cute when you are like this.” laughs escaped her lips. It’s fun to be a bit of a villain. 

…

Su Ji

[Don’t wait for me today.]

Ha Rin

[Okay.]

Seung Yi turned left when she left the school grounds. Su Ji quietly trailed behind her, carefully maintaining a safe distance. It was made easy by the fact that the girl she was following was constantly on the phone. They arrived at the train station and boarded on a train soon enough, Su ji made sure to stay behind a stranger in case Seung Yi looked her way. 

Some forty minutes and a transition to another rail line later, Su Ji found Seung Yi sitting on a bench alone. She checked her surroundings, there was no one else besides a sleeping salaryman at the end of the car. This was her chance. 

“Hello, deskmate.” She sat right next to Seung Yi, sliding within a few centimeters apart. 

“Wha.. what are you doing here?” Seung Yi looked at her, shocked and bewildered.

“I was on my way home and just happened to see you. Decided to come say hi.” She did her best fake smile. 

Seung Yi stood up and tried to leave, but Su Ji grabbed onto her shoulder. 

“Stay, I have something to say to you.”

The smaller girl tried to free herself from Su Ji’s grasp, but Su Ji was stronger. She used her own body to pin Seung Yi against the end of the bench. 

“What… What do you want?” Seung Yi asked. 

“Sit, and let’s talk.” She replied. A few seconds later, the girl complied. 

Su Ji gave her a little more space, but kept her hand on Seung Yi’s shoulder. “How have you been doing lately? Kim Da Yeon hasn’t been kind to you has she?”

“Leave me alone.” The girl retreated more into her little corner, refusing to look Su Ji in the eye. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Su Ji asked. “You were the one who threw my essay into the trash.”

“What… what are you talking about?” Came the nervous stutter. 

“It’s okay, Seung Yi. Everybody makes mistakes. Besides, that’s not why I am here. I’m here to help you with your current situation.” 

“How… You are F…” She asked weakly. 

“I won’t be F for long. Ha Rin will vote for me in the next HR.”

“How does that matter to me?”

“I am no longer going to be in F. Myung Ja Eun hides in whatever hole she’s in. Guess what? You are going to be Kim Da Yeon’s target for the foreseeable future. ” She could feel Seung Yi’s tremble. It made her tremble too, but not out of fear… 

“So what? What do you want?” Su Ji could see the girl’s teary eyes. What a poor conniving little thing. 

 Su Ji leaned into Seung Yi’s face and whispered. “I saw you and Ji Ae during lunch. You hate her guts, don’t you? She left you to the wolves. She’s a dirty little coward, who leaves their friends and runs away.”

“Don’t you dare speak about my friend like that!” The girl protested. There was a hint of anger in Seung Yi’s voice. Su Ji squeezed down on her shoulder, hard. Seung Yi whimpered. 

“I’m just saying what you are thinking. Anyways, you see the point I’m trying to get at right? You shouldn’t vote for her. There needs to be an F after all, that’s how the game works.”

Seung Yi cried out loud. Su Ji checked their surroundings again, the salary man was still asleep. 

“Why did you come? Things were fine before you came. Myung Ja Eun was F, she was the outcast. Ji Ae and I were out of eyesights, just being ourselves.”

“Cry. let it all out.” Su Ji caressed the girl’s hair gently. Seung Yi tried to flinch away, but the effort was moot. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Simple. You don’t vote for Ji Ae, and we vote for each other.”

“How do I know you are not bluffing?”

“You don’t. But it’s not like you have any other way out. You can do nothing. Things will stay the same and you will still be their target.”

There was a pause. Seung Yi whispered. “I am… I’m betraying my best friend.”

She turned the girl to her and looked her in the eyes. “Seung Yi ah, she betrayed you first.”

… 

Next monday

She was in the back of the music room, contemplating her next move. 

Two votes so far.  

Who else can she get to vote for her? Ja Eun? It went disastrous last time, but it doesn’t hurt to try again. 

Who else?

“You are here again?” Ye Rim came into the music room with her usual get up. 

“Same can be said for you.” She said. 

“Can you help me with something?” The idol trainee asked her. 

“What is it?”

“Can you film me dancing? I want to look at it afterward.” Ye Rim said as she offered her the phone.

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

She sat down at the front and tapped the film button as Ye Rim danced away.

Myung Ja Eun and Im Ye Rim. That’s who she needed to target next. 

…

Su Ji

[Want to meet after school?]

Ja Eun

[Why?]

Su Ji

[I need to talk to you in private] 

[Please Please Please]

Ja Eun

[Fine]

They sat by a table right outside of the convenience store she frequents. “Sorry Ja Eun ah, I just… I just really need someone to talk to right now…” 

“It’s okay.” Ja Eun’s voice was wooden, as wooden as her body, sitting rigidly across from Su Ji. 

After a short, awkward silence, Su Ji continued. “We should vote for each other.”

“I told you. I’m not playing the game.”

Your moral compass doesn’t even make sense! “I mean we should vote for each other, so nobody is in F. Isn’t that nice? Everyone will just be normal to each other after that. ”

“I don’t know… They might just do it anyway.” 

She clasped her hands together and begged. “Please? Please? I’m sorry about what I said last time. Please Forgive me. ”

“I just can’t. I’m sorry” Ja Eun replied. 

C’mon, c’mon. She needed that vote. She needed C. “You want another samgak? I will buy one extra for you.” Su Ji got up and headed to the store. 

“Wait!” Ja Eun grabbed onto Su Ji’s wrist and dragged her closer. The tall girl leaned into her collar and sniffed a couple times. “You smell like cigarettes.”

Oh, Fuck…