#i think this is a symptom of.. somethin

[lunarwings-rambles]

you ever just feel like shit all day and so you barely eat anything and then right as you're trying to go to bed your brain goes "hhamrmabhrbekif... eat now or I will make you MISERABLE and SAD" and so you're sitting there eating cold fries out of a Pyrex container like "are you happy, o meat suit of mine" or is this a me issue

[lil-leon]

Brain: Psh, we're neurotypical

Me: We have over 10 signs of being neurodivergent, and that's without the Autism signs.

Brain: Naaaah, we're neurotypical bcz mom said so :D

Me: I-I feel like maybe we know ourself better than she knows us..? She-she's not the one in our head-

Brain: But she's our mom

Me: Fair point-

[punmster]

having an existential crisis because I finally cracked and searched up a summary for Manacled and found out one of the DMSMG alternate endings (which I've changed before this) is like. kinda similar to it??

[keeps-ache]

i should learn to make hash browns

[yoojinluv]

[cherrysnax]

stress triggered chronic pain let’s goooo

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[space-cowgirllll]

Die With A Smile

Outbreak Day with ex-girlfriend Abby?

a/n: idk what lady gaga and bruno put in this song fr. I should have been studying for an Ochem exam but here we are lol.

"Government officials met today to discuss the recent spikes in hospitalizations all across the globe over the past week, with talks of setting up government run quarantine zones in all major cities." 

You perk up from your spot on the couch, trading the carton of ice cream in your hands for the TV remote. The local newswoman's voice fills the quiet space as the volume increases. You immediately recognize the hospital in the background. 

"Hospital staff everywhere are overwhelmed with the influx of patients coming in with symptoms of this mysterious virus. For the time being it is highly recommended that any travel plans be postponed. International flights have started being cancelled, leaving hundred of people stranded. The CDC advises everyone to remain calm  and continue to follow your city's imposed emergency curfews as they work towards finding the cause." 

The face-mask you'd slathered on earlier hardens as she lists off the symptoms to look out for: sudden mood changes, muscle spasms, and slurred speech. You can't wrap your mind around a simple virus causing all this. Your stomach sinks in realization, this is definitely more serious than anybody was letting on. 

Without even thinking you reach for your phone, quickly scrolling through your contact list until you land on the one person you've been avoiding. Abby, your ex girlfriend of six months. Your finger hovers over her number, wondering if this was worth breaking three months of no contact when loud screams come from the television. You look up just in time to see the blast of an explosion before the screen goes blank. Static stares back you. 

Your finger mashes down on the touchscreen with zero hesitation as you run to the sink, hands desperately scrubbing at your face while you wait for her to answer. You don't even stop to consider you might be blocked. 

Please pick up, please pick up, please.

"Hello?" Abby's panicked voice sounds through the phone. 

"Oh my god Abs. Are you okay?" You ramble. "I just saw the news and I- there was an explosion."

"I had to home to change. " Her voice is shaky, turn signal clicks faintly in the background. "I was still close enough to- OH MY GOD!" The sound of tires screeching drown out Abby's curses. A loud boom sounds off outside, this one feels closer. "I'm....to...you" Is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead.

You throw the phone across the room, a string of curses leaving your mouth. The open window of your living room lets you hear the chaos outside before you can see it. Helicopters fly overhead and sirens sound off in the near distance. One by one, porch lights come on as your neighbors step out of their homes, confusion etched on their faces.

The sound of a door slamming open catches everyone's attention. Out of the corner of your eye you see the outlines of two people moving towards the road. Your neighbor, Claire, yells as her husband chases after her. His movements far too quick and erratic for someone his age. 

Everyone watches in shock as he catches up to her, mouth attacking the side of her neck, effectively silencing her screams. The sight is gory. You stand frozen as some of the braver ones try to help, only to be met with a similar fate before he runs off into the middle of the road, searching for his next victim. Chaos quickly ensues, people run off back to their homes, garages pop open as some try to make a quick escape. You stagger back, knocking into the side table beside the couch. A picture frame falls over, shattering loudly on wood floor.

To your absolute horror, his head snaps to your window. For the first time, you're able to catch a glimpse of him up close. Gone was the sweet old man who would help you with yard work in those first few months after Abby moved out. The skin of his face is molted, almost as if something was eating away at it. Once sparkling blue eyes are completely glazed over. The bloodthirsty look on his face sends you reeling. 

His mouth parts open letting out a loud screech, ready to lunge through the thin window screen when a familiar black truck slams into him. Abby hops out, mouth moving quickly as she shouts something at you. Between the ringing in your ears and the loud screams outside you don't register what she says. Your eyes blink rapidly, hoping the sight of your elderly neighbor under her front tire is just your imagination. In your peripheral you see the front door swing open, Abby's keychain hanging from the lock. 

Strong hands grip you by the shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor. "Baby what are you doing? We have to go!"

Her woodsy scent envelopes you as she scoops you up and carries you out bridal style before tossing you in the passenger seat. Fingers clench into the leather as the truck reverses, disturbing the once perfect lawn. Your flowerbeds and mailbox becoming casualties in the process too. 

You peel your eyes off the dash, looking out the window as she flies through residential neighborhoods. More and more people are starting to trickle out from the safety of their homes. Some running with only the clothes on their backs, others quickly shoving personal belongings in their vehicles. 

Your voice is shaky when you finally speak up. "What's going on Abigail?"

She exhales heavily, looking exhausted. "I don't know."

"Are they all like that?" 

Her jaw clenches. "The ones I've been treating are in the early stages of their symptoms, but beds are full. We've been told to turn people away to recover at home." She huffs. "I don't even wanna know how many of them are out there running around like that."

You hesitantly rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, slowly pulling back when she tenses. Her throat clears and the skin of her knuckles turns white as she tightens her grip on the wheel. 

"So what are we doing?"

You're shocked when she shrugs her shoulders. Abby always had a plan. You wrack your brain, trying to think of something. 

"My parent's cabin up north! We could go there." You suggest. "Y'know until everything settles down."

She makes a sharp right, following the signs pointing her to the nearest on ramp. Her fist slams against the wheel when you pull up to the main highway just five minutes later. It seems like everyone had the same idea. Cars are honking, people are screaming. Nobody is moving. The thought of sitting in bumper to bumper traffic right now doesn't sound like a smart idea.

"My apartment's in the city." Abby suddenly states. "They were setting up barricades when I left for work this morning. Flyers talking about a quarantine zone." 

She doesn't wait for your approval, sending the truck speeding towards her place. The closer you get to the city, the more erratic Abby's driving becomes. It's clear your little suburban bubble was late to the news of the outbreak. Downtown Seattle is absolute madness. Everywhere you look there's something happening. Those infected chase people up and down the streets, tackling the ones too slow to outrun them. Shops that you can remember being there your whole life are now ablaze. 

You grip onto the handle above your head watching wide eyed as Abby plows through debris in the street. Bile rises in your throat when you realize she most likely driving over the dead bodies left behind. 

The truck slows to a crawl. Concrete barricades were placed closer together here, making it impossible to get through. She silently curses at the fact that you're gonna have to leave the safety of the car and make the rest of the journey on foot. She grabs your face between her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

"Get ready to run baby." 

Your hand is on the handle when something crashes into your door. A scream gets caught in your throat as the infected bangs on the glass of your window before setting it's sights on the blonde. She's halfway out of the truck when she gets tackled to the ground. Her hands shoot out using all her strength to keep it from attacking her 

"Abby!"

She screams at you to run. Her arms are getting tired of holding this ridiculously strong freak back. Her hold is quickly slipping. Accepting her fate she screws her eyes shut bracing for the inevitable. A loud whack and she doesn't realize there's no longer any weight holding her down until your panicked voice is in her ear. 

"Holy fuck! Are you okay?"

You crouch beside her, a bloody metal pipe in your hands. Keeping a watchful eye on the body laying just inches from hers. She slaps your hand away, wincing when she gets up on her own. 

"Why would you do that?!" She whisper yells, unsure whether to kiss you for saving her or punching you for putting yourself in danger. "I told you to run!"

"I could never just leave you like that. You're welcome." You say through labored breaths. With a roll of her eyes she grabs your hand, sprinting in the direction of her building. 

You're thankful it's a short run from the car to her place. The two of you able to successfully hide from any other infected. It doesn't take long for either of you to realize that their vision sucks. 

The stairs up to her place are a feat of its own. You huff and puff up to the nineteenth floor, legs on fire when you finally walk through the door. 

Her apartment is spotless, because of course it is. Floor to ceiling windows give you a clear view of what seems to be the end of the world. 

"Oh my god." You stand in the middle of her room, watching in horror as explosions go off in my the distance. The ground beneath you shakes as they get closer and closer. 

Abby shakes her head in disbelief clearly putting two and two together. 

"It's so heavily populated here. They don't see the point in trying to separate the healthy from the infected." She whispers. Tears well in her eyes watching a plane purposefully fly into the ground off in the distance. The large blast setting fire to everything around it. There are more right behind it. "We're so fucked."

You watch as the fight leave her body. Your throat locks up, unable to scream at her. Wobbly legs pace back and forth in the small space trying to think of something that might work. Deep down you know it's pointless. There's no way you'd make it out of the city alive. Soft sobs wrack your body at the realization that this really is the end. 

Her shoulders slump as she sits on the bed. She gnaws on her lower lip to keep from crying too loud. "Can I hold you?" 

You nod, legs feeling like jelly. Abby reaches for you, pulling you up towards the headboard. The two of you lay beside each other breathing heavily with your hands intertwined. Tears stream down her face and onto the pillow under her head. 

She reaches over and kisses you, her shaking hand plays with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. "My biggest regret was letting you go."

You watch face as she continues talking, lips moving against yours. "I had to stop myself from driving past the house every single day." She laughs. "Would have sat outside your door until you took me back."

"I wish you would have." You admit through a watery smile. 

"I never stopped loving you. I just want you to know that." She whispers, lips moving to kiss your temple. 

"I should have never left." Your lips meet the skin of neck tasting the salty tears that have pooled there. "I love you too Abby. So much it hurts." 

"I can't believe this is what it took for us to realize how stupid we were." She mumbles into your hair. Your face burrows into the crook of her neck. "I'm so sorry baby."

"I'm glad you came for me." You tell her, but you know she doesn't hear it. 

The walls start shaking, sending everything tumbling to the floor. You're no longer able to hear anything over the sound of a loud engine approaching. Her arms tighten around you, the two of you curl into each other. 

There's a jarring beeping in your ear just as it all goes black. 

You shoot up in bed, heart in your throat. The sound of your heavy breathing almost drowns out the harsh beeping of your alarm. Reaching over you rip the cord from the wall sitting in silence for a moment while your heartbeat returns to normal. 

The sun is shining outside, laughter from the kids across the street flows in through the small opening of your window. A lawnmower goes off in the distance.

Shaking hands fist the cool cotton of your sheets. The soft material grounding you. You look around the small room. Everything looks just as you left it. There's an empty bottle of wine on the dresser and you roll your  eyes at yourself. 

That explains it. 

You're okay. 

It was all a dream.

You jump out of bed, rushing to the bathroom before taking the stairs two at a time almost snapping an ankle. The entryway table shakes when you snatch the keys from on top of it. The warm August breeze that hits you when you walk outside makes you feel renewed. 

The quiet neighborhood looks as it always does. A couple of people are out watering their lawns while some head out for church. Claire sits on her front porch drinking a cup of coffee, giving you a little wave when she spots you pulling out of your driveway and it's a miracle you don't burst into tears. Using muscle memory you quickly punch in the number you know by heart, waiting with bated breath for an answer.  "Hello?"Your shoulders drop in relief at the sound of her voice. She's okay.

"Where are you?"

"At home," she pauses "why?"

"Perfect." You hang up before she can reply. Tossing the phone on the passenger seat you press your foot down on the gas. 

You make it to Abby's apartment building in record time, parking haphazardly by the curb. There's a ninety nine percent chance you'll come back to a parking ticket stuck to your windshield but you don't care. 

There's a moment on the elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor where you second guess yourself. Aware of how ridiculous you look in mix matched pajamas going to try and win your ex girlfriend back. You steel your nerves reminding yourself of how horrible those last few seconds of your nightmare were.  If she kicks you out you can at least say you tried. 

Abby answers the door looking mouth watering in a black tank top and gray shorts, her messy hair pulled back in a low bun. "Alright, how many traffic laws did you break on your way over here?"

"You don't wanna know." You pant, throwing yourself into her arms. 

She catches you with a soft grunt, hesitating for a second before wrapping her arms around you. The familiar scent of pine engulfs you.  

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" Her teasing tone makes your face heat up. "I don't think random house visits on a Sunday at 8 AM fall under no contact." She quips. 

"I love you!" The words are out before you can stop yourself. "I love you and I don't want to go another day without letting you know that walking away from you was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I regret it every single day."

Abby leans back against the door with her hands still on your hips. There's a tiny grin on her face watching you spill your guts, you’re too worked up to notice. "I know we're both at the peak of our careers. I know we're busy, and there will be days we don't even get to see each other, but I'm tired of living like this. I miss you." 

You sniffle pathetically into her chest. "The world could end tomorrow and I don't want to regret never telling you how I felt." Thumbs wipe gently at your tears. "And if you don't feel the same way I underst- mmph!"

Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss, hands wandering under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your back. Neither of you make a move to deepen it, content to take it slow.

Abby pulls back first. Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she stares down at you. It suddenly hits you how much you've missed her. She brings her forehead to rest against yours. 

"Took you long enough baby."

[pearlymel]

Hiii!!

Love your work!! If you’re available, could you please write hc’s of Jing Yuan, Natasha, Kafka, Boothill, Jiaoqiu (OOC is fine!!), Sampo, Gallagher, March 7th, and/or Serval with a reader with low blood sugar? Huge self-indulgent comfort ask, but it might resonate with a lot of other people!

My DM’s are open if you ever would like to learn some major symptoms of blood sugar drops. You absolutely do not have to do all of these characters, just giving you some ideas! Have a wonderful day/night!! ☺️💕

Synopsis: headcanons of the hsr character and reader with a low blood sugar.

Includes: Boothill, Jiaoqiu (might be ooc), Jing yuan, Gallagher, and March 7th.

Notes: i didn't add all of them because i usually write up to 5 characters or so (gonna create my rules sometime this week). But thank you for the request, lovey! I had so much fun writing this, i love writing and exploring new things :) i hope it was to your expectations, and sorry if the symptoms were inaccurate (google was my help i was too shy to dm.)

↳ BOOTHILL.

—we all should agree that this man is a caring lover, although i see him as the type to forget that you're not like him. You're not metal and scraps like him, and that you're a human being who needs a lil extra care.

—he doesn't think much of it when you first tell him that you tend to have low blood sugar, he even asks random strangers at bars he goes to about this sickness.

Boothill loves all types of fun to do with you, and tonight, you suggested you both dance.

Seeing the hint of a smile gracing your lips when you try hiding it by pressing your face on shoulder, Boothill grins. And he makes no attempt to hide his delight, he tightens his grip on your frame, holding you carefully but firmly against his chest.

"Well now, ain't I a lucky devil," he drawls, the evident sarcasm was in his tone, "Looks like I'm gettin' the chance to dance with a lovely person who shares my love for tryin' new things. I must be doin' somethin' right."

Silly, you think. "You were simply just you. And i love being with you."

Boothill grins, his eyes softening at the edges as he gazes down at you.

"Well now, ain't that a sweet thing to say," he replies, his voice gruff yet affectionate. "I ain't used to hearin' such sweet talk, to be honest." He pauses for a beat, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"But hearin' it from you, it's nice," he continued before pulling you a bit closer against him.

You laugh along with him, bringing your hand to brush your fingertips along his hair, your other hand over the metallic surface of his chest before you slow your movements, you feel dizzy. No, it's not from how much you both were spinning, you both were going slow and careful.

It doesn't go unnoticed by him with the shift in your demeanor, a subtle change in your movements that indicates something is amiss.

"You okay there, darlin'?" he asks, his brow furrowing as he looks down at you. He can feel something amiss with you physically.

"Lightheaded." You mumble, holding onto him. "You... You have uhm.. anything sweet i can take?" He gives you a nod, "Reach into my pocket, I'm sure there's a candy sitting there," he explains, guiding your hand to his pocket, taking it calmly.

You give him a small smile when you reach for his side pocket to grab the singular wrapped candy.

Your fingers fumbles with the wrapper before you pop it in your mouth, sucking on the strawberry flavoured candy while resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"Doin' a little better there?"

"Yeah, thanks my hero."

"Don't you go gettin' all sweet on me now," he mutters with that of gruffness, though he smiles. "You're the one who's supposed to keep me from goin' all soft."

↳ GALLAGHER.

—Oh he's ready 24/7 whenever the situation calls for it. He takes this very seriously and will make sure no funny jokes were made about it, because they're certainly not funny to him and he will kick ass if anyone makes it harder on you than it should be.

What a sight for sore eyes. Truly. And no, he's not talking about the view, he's glancing back at you where you sat while looking up at the skies, your head titled as if you're so immersed.

"Anything on your mind?" He was the first to speak as he approaches you, "A lot of things.. clouding my head." You half shrug, watching him as he takes a seat next to you with a can of some carbonated drink on his side, and you hear the slight hiss of it when he open it with his finger. The carbonated drink fizzes a little between his finger and thumb as he pops the tab open, taking a small sip from it before turning his attention back to you.

His crimson eyes were on the direction you were trying to look at but he can't find what's so interesting about tonight's sky.

“I'm willing to stay here all night and listen.” He reassures you.

"Mhm," you stare blankly ahead now, almost zoning out, and you don't notice how sweaty you're starting to feel, or how your heart starts racing.

Gallagher's eyes narrow as he notices your almost zombie like look of a thousand yard stare. The way you look unmoving and not even acknowledging him.

He doesn't say anything and just hands you his drink, gently tapping the can on your arm to bring back your attention. You don't hesitate to grab it, taking small fast sips.

"Careful," he helps you straighten your back, drinking while slouching isn't exactly good.

You sigh when you hold the can with both hands now, letting it rest on your lap, "Thank you—"

"When was the last time you ate today?" He gently cuts you off.

"Earlier."

“And can you confirm that ‘earlier’ wasn’t hours ago?” He asked, his voice now firm but he tries to stay calm.

"I'm sleepy." You brush his question off instead, looking at him while blinking slowly as you lean to rest your head on the side of his shoulder. Gallagher watches you, letting out a soft scoff at how you tried to change the subject. He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer from you, but he also wasn’t going to let you just avoid the problem either.

"We're having dinner after your little nap, deal?"

↳ MARCH 7TH.

—March.. panics when she finds out for the first time. She asks you if you were okay, if you wanted anything, even when you try to reassure her that you felt fine at times, she wouldn't be convinced until you stay under her watch. She bugs Dan Heng to tell her all the possible symptoms so she wouldn't panic more than she should.

Today, you were March's model for photography, well you always are her model because she says you're the best fit for it.

She lets you try out fun clothes and you shyly and awkwardly try to pose in front of the camera at first, but then you immediately gain the confidence after a few more clicks. Smiling and posing while trying out all the fun combinations of colours and clothes.

She looked at you, wearing clothes she had picked out for you. You looked absolutely beautiful.

The enthusiastic girl was blushing a lot as she kept taking pictures of you, giggling behind the camera even.

"March, mind if i sit down for a bit?" You hated to stop her from her enthusiasm, but you feel lightheaded almost. And you were sure it's not from the flashes.

March immediately stopped taking photos and set her camera down when you asked.

She placed a gentle hand onto your forehead, seeing if you had a fever first. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, don't panic. I just feel lightheaded. Do you have anything sweet i can take?"

Okay, she is prepared for this, "You're low on blood sugar, are you?" She asked, concerned. March then grabbed a small candy—a lollipop, to be exact—from the camera case and offered it out to you.

"And you came prepared." You try teasing, and she nodded with a light laugh. It was a nice-looking sweet lemon-flavored lolliop.

"I carry them with me just in case!" She replied, You both sit down together, she takes out another lollipop for herself so you wouldn't feel left out.

"We can take pictures while eating these lollipops."

March nodded in agreement with your idea, she was happy that you even said that, it meant taking pictures together for an hour now wasn't boring you out.

Then, she pulled out her camera again, a grin forming on her face, "That's a good idea! Alright, on the count of three—" she pulls the lollipop out, posing as if kissing the candy while you smile widely as the camera clicks on both of you.

↳ JIAOQIU.

—sooo, he's a healer. Then that means we all can agree that he's the attentive lover, and strictly cares about your health and diet, but i feel like he'd be playful about it at times.

You don't remember sleeping for so long when you woke up rather confused, shuffling around the blankets and sitting up on the bed while rubbing your head.

Your fault for skipping breakfast and going straight into your work or chores for today.

You fail to notice at first the pink haired figure next to you, sitting beside the bed so silently that it makes you gasp when you turn around to see him.

He was holding a spoonful of some red liquid that you're sure is spicy concoction. He looks at you expectantly, a hint of mischief behind his closed eyes.

“Say ahh,” he says quietly, enjoying the moment. But you almost try not to laugh.

"What happened exactly?" You ask him, refusing to still take that.. extremely dark red soup. It was so dark you can almost smell the spice in the air.

"Someone forgot to eat their meal i prepared earlier," he hums, still trying to pry his spoon closer to your lips, "so i had to find myself misfortune in the of finding you almost unconscious. You're lucky i was carrying some sweet herbs with me." And you frown at his next words, you want to apologize for how he must've been worried.

As if sensing your next words, he smiles, "none of that. Now, open up." He offers you the spoonful again but you pull your face away.

"Are you sure you're not trying to kill me next?"

Jiaoqiu pretends to pout. His fox ears prick and he gives you a slight pout, "You're so dramatic," he says, his tail flicking with amusement. He holds up the spoon again, still waiting for you to open your mouth.

"My soup will fix your blood sugar. Trust me, it's a secret recipe," Jiaoqiu says with a sly smirk.

"What if it tastes bad?" You regret the words leaving your mouth, because he opens his eyes and stares at you with an almost hurt expression. You take the spoonful in your mouth without another complaint, and he hums in approval while closing back his eyes.

The flavours almost explode in your mouth, it.. wasn't spicy at all. It was rather sweet and savoury.

"You tricked me, it's not spicy at all."

"I never said it was spicy, though." He tilts his head, feigning innocence and confusion.

Despite his antics, you instantly feel better, although he doesn't allow you to feed yourself, he'll do it for you.

↳ JING YUAN.

—This man would spoil you rotten. You're feeling unwell? He would love to take the day off and just look after you, although there is a doctor on the side in case anything gets serious. You're simply tired not because of your low sugar levels, but just because you were? He would gladly invite you in his arms or simply sit next to you while you both chat nonstop about eachother's days if that's what will make you feel better.

You were panting when you decided to train alone in the training grounds, Yanqing offered to train with you but you insisted that you needed that full concentration.

After a while, you do feel exhausted and worn out. The spear dropping from your hands as you bend a bit to rest your hands on your knees to catch some breath.

"Now, now, if you want to get stronger, you'll also need a break." Jing Yuan's call for you is what makes you huff out a chuckle. In his hands is what looked to be a bowl of fruits with a water bottle on the other.

"i wanted to build some muscle." You tell him when he gives you that look whenever you start training alone. It's not that he's against your wishes of wanting to be stronger for your own good, but he wishes Yanqing was atleast there to watch you.

"And, I'm not a baby." You roll your eyes playfully and he lets out a deep laugh. "Eat up." You take the orange first, but he was quick to take it from your hands to peel it for you, so you take the grape instead.

You as well take the bottle, gulping down almost the whole thing. Water has never tasted this good.

"You're not a baby, but you drool like one." You almost glare at his words and he only grins while wiping the excess water and fruit juice off the corner of your lips with his thumb. "That was mean, General." You raise both of your eyebrows at him, he only pats your head back, pulling you in with his arm to just hold you.

"when the time comes, you'll be strong enough to protect me."

[buccini555]

𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

₊˚ ໑ 𝟎.𝟏 : 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

₊˚ ໑ : You found out you were pregnant, but were afraid to tell them, but they ended up finding out

₊˚ ໑ : H e a d c a n o n s !

₊˚ ໑ : 𝑭𝒕. Izana Kurokawa, Hanma Shuji, Kisaki Tetta, Taiju Shiba and Inui Seishu

tw: pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, daddy issues, mention of abandonment, angst, fluff, sensitive topics and I think that's all?

𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

Izana definitely wouldn't take long to find out, at first he didn't even want to accept that fact, but little by little the idea entered his mind.

"Isn't there anything you wanted to tell me? Don't lie to me, I'll just ask once." He questioned while caressing his face, Izana was never as affectionate as she was being at that very moment, even so, you just looked away and shook your head, denying the fact that you were hiding something.

"... You don't need to be afraid to tell me, I already know everything, you shouldn't underestimate me, you know that." In a calm and subtle tone of voice, he began to speak again, giving you a small, still awkward hug.

"I'm sorry for hiding this from you Izana..." You said, still fearing for Izana's reaction, even though he seemed so calm, his mood changed every second.

"I promise I'll be the father I never had the chance to have, thank you for giving me the greatest gift I could ever receive." Izana hugged you with even more desire, but being completely careful, he said in a few words, not being able to contain himself from giving a subtle smile despite still being insecure about the unexpected news.

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐣𝐢

He would notice your change in behavior almost immediately, Hanma despite not seeming to care much, pays attention to each of your customs and ways, Hanma suspected your pregnancy as soon as you started to feel sick.

"What the fuck is happening to you? Did you eat somethin-" Hanma looked at you, still without completing his speech, he seemed to have come to his senses at that very moment, anyway, it wouldn't take long for him to find out.

"Baby... Are you pregnant? Fuck..." His tone of voice changed instantly, the taller one seemed distressed by such a thought, as soon as you found the courage, you just nodded.

"It's okay, don't cry, do you really think I'm going to leave you and my son? I would think so too, but I won't." Unexpectedly, Hanma gave you a hug, he was clearly a little nervous, but he tried to be as cool as possible.

"...I know I'll never be the right guy for you, but thank you for giving me a family." He said, still hugging you, completely losing his tough guy attitude.

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐓𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚

Kisaki realized it even before you showed any symptoms, he was always attentive to each of your behaviors and knew your body like no one else.

"Are you really going to keep lying to me and say you're not hiding something?" Kisaki questioned you in a completely threatening tone, making you afraid of your reaction, knowing that there was no point in lying, you just told the truth.

He was completely silent for a brief moment, trying to hide the sea in his eyes.

"... I'm sorry... I don't know how to react to such news." Kisaki gave you a light hug, stroking your hair gently and giving you great relief.

"I hope I don't fail as a father either, I sincerely hope to be the best father to our baby, I'm sorry if I can't be enough!" It was the last thing Kisaki managed to say before he started crying like you had never seen him before.

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐣𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚

It would take Taiju a while to notice, but once he noticed the changes in your behavior, he was sure to discover the fact that you were pregnant.

"Lying to me?" He questioned, holding your arm less tightly than he usually did and looking you straight into your eyes with a reproachful look.

"N-no." You responded in a brief speech, fearing for the taller man's reaction at that moment, knowing that he would not stop being aggressive towards you even though you were pregnant.

"I believe that having a child would be one of the greatest blessings I could receive, one day I will be a great father, I'm sure of it!" Taiju said shortly afterwards, pausing his speech.

When you finally felt relief upon hearing Taiju speak, without expecting it you just heard him say the cruelest thing he could.

"I will be a good father, but not now! Get rid of this mistake, you better obey me." That was all he said before leaving.

𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐮

Inupi was always extremely careful with you, noticing the change in his behavior made him fully aware of your pregnancy, but everything was confirmed the day he saw you feel really bad.

"I-I know it's not something I should ask in such an invasive way, but, are you pregnant?" The taller one asked, holding his hand while you remained lying on top of your bed, as lying was never a good option, you just told the truth.

"I'm sorry..." shaking your head in affirmation, you replied, noticing the complete silence on Inui's part.

"Y-you should have told me before, I... I don't think I've ever felt so happy in my entire life!" Seishu definitely didn't show feelings easily, but he really tried hard, making you feel relieved at his reaction.

"Don't make your mother sick, we have to take care of her together." He said, resting his head on your belly and giving you small caresses.

"I'm sure that you, me and our baby will be happy together, I will do my best for us, our little family." Still with a smile, he said again.

[melon-fodder]

What Friends Are For • T. Hiragi

Summary: Hiragi was annoyed when you bailed on the plans you had with him, but when finds you curled up with your heating pad, alone in your apartment he understands what happened, and now he wants to help.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: period sex, female-bodied reader, best friends to lovers, blood (obviously), cramps and other period symptoms, fingering, p in v, mentions of oral but it doesn’t happen (maybe next time)

Notes: this has been in my head for months now. It’s time to get it out. Special shout out to my nexplanon! Thanks for making me bleed for a solid month 😔✌🏻

Hiragi is annoyed.

Which isn’t uncommon for him, honestly, but it’s pretty rare that he’s annoyed with you.

You’d had these plans for a couple weeks now, a local band you both enjoy playing at a small venue downtown. You were excited. You had sent Hiragi all your different outfit options, and he’d given his honest opinions until you’d settled on the crop top, shorts, fishnets, and docs. He’d had to talk you out of the skirt you’d recently gotten— “I don’t wanna have to worry about creeps thinkin’ they can just slip their hands up there.”

“You don’t have to worry about me like that, Ragi,” you’d told him over the phone, “it’s not like I’m your girlfriend. You don’t have to defend my honor.”

A reminder that stings a little every time. You’re not his girlfriend, and he’s not your boyfriend, despite what everyone thinks and says. Despite everything that he feels.

None of that matters currently, though, because he’s pissed at you. Which is why he’s knocking on your apartment door to see what the fuck is wrong with you. Surely, there has to be something. It’s not like you to flake.

There’s some brief shuffling from inside before the door opens a crack, revealing a sliver of your face that looks… different.

“Ragi?” He just taps his foot until you open the door and let him in. “What’re you doing? I told you I can’t go out.”

The first thing he notices is that your eyes are a little puffy. Then, when he glances around your small living room, Hiragi sees that the TV is on, playing one of your favorite medical dramas—the one that’s just sex, surgery, and crying. You’re in a ratty old t-shirt (one of his, he’s pretty sure) and a pair of boy shorts that hug your hips and thighs too well.

“So what, you’re gonna skip out on this show so you can just sit here and watch TV?” His irritation has spiked again, familiar acid rising in his throat.

“What?” You peer at him like you’re confused then look back to the show and the little nest you’ve made yourself on your couch.

“It’s not… I wanna go. I just don’t think I’d have a good time.” Your face twists, both hands moving to your hips as you bend as if to stretch your back.

You’re acting weird.

“How do you know you’re not gonna have a good time?”

“Hiragi…” you say his name like a warning, and something new clicks into place.

You don’t feel well. The puffy eyes, the comfy clothes— “are ya sick or somethin’?”

You grimace, still bending and stretching while digging your thumbs into your lower back.

“No, I just— fuck, I need to lay back down.”

He watches as you walk to the couch and pull something out from under the mass of blankets, click a remote a couple times, then settle it against your back.

“I wanna go to the show, Ragi. And I’m not sick.” He can see the muscles of your jaw flex when you clench your teeth. “My fucking period is just kicking my ass tonight, okay?”

Oh. Oh. Okay.

“That… makes more sense, I guess,” Hiragi mutters, feeling much less irritated and much more foolish. “Can I get you anything?”

“A hysterectomy?” you joke, though it sounds more like begging.

“If I was qualified, you know I would.”

He can’t find it in himself to look at you. It’s not like Hiragi isn't familiar with periods. He’s had girlfriends and friends who are girls and, ya know, a mother.

He’s just—it’s just—you never bring it up around him. You’ve never mentioned cramping or bleeding or cravings related to it. He doesn’t even think he’s ever seen a tampon in your purse or your bathroom (not that he’s looked, it’s just something he’s noticed).

You must be able to see the confusion written all over his face. Or maybe you just know him too fucking well because with a heavy sigh, you explain, “I switched birth controls a couple months back. I didn’t have periods at all on my old one, but this one… anyway, I’m not used to the pain and everything else.”

This is a problem. You have a problem, Hiragi thinks, one that he can fix or, at the very least, help you with. Hiragi is good at fixing things. He’s good at finding solutions. So if he can just shove all of his awkwardness and discomfort to the side, he can focus on what’s important: making you feel better.

“You have pain killers?”

You shake your head.

“Menstrual products?”

You snort. “What?”

“Pads, tampons—”

“I know what they are, dummy,” you laugh, “just sounds weird when you say it like that. Menstrual products,” you imitate, and Hiragi rolls his eyes.

“Do you have any?”

You shrug, “not enough, but I use a disk anyway.”

Now is not the time for questions.

“Alright. I’ll be right back then,” he tells you before turning around to walk out.

“Wait! Where are you… nevermind,” he hears you mumble before the door shuts. If you know him as well as he thinks you do, you should have a pretty good idea of where he’s headed.

The little drug store at the corner doesn’t exactly offer luxury, but it’s stocked with what Hiragi needs. The girl behind the counter gives him a knowing look as she rings everything up and asks if he’d like to buy one of the mini flower bouquets that are displayed next to the register.

Tempting.

But it’s not like that.

“Nah, just this,” he says as he pulls out his wallet, the one you tease him about so much (“what is this, 2000? Get rid of the chain, old man!”).

It isn’t long before he’s walking back into your apartment like he lives there. Sometimes it feels like he does. Hiragi drops the bags on your coffee table and starts taking things out.

Medicine, the kind with added caffeine to help with headaches and energy. A box of tampons, regular and super. A box of pads just in case. Your favorite chocolates. A pint of ice cream he needs to put in the freezer ASAP, and…

“Is that a—”

“It’s not some dumb little plushie,” Hiragi immediately grabs what definitely looks like a dumb little plushie. “It’s got a rice pack in it, see? So you can heat it up and—”

“Cuddle with it?” You grin. “Is there a reason it’s an alligator? I feel like that’s not very period friendly.”

“It was an alligator or a crab,” he calls out, walking to the kitchen. “You want crabs?”

“No, I do not want crabs,” you shout. “But, I’m just sayin’. It’s a little suspicious you coming back with a plushie—”

“Not a plushie!”

“—that sort of resembles you that you want me to cuddle with.”

Hiragi leans to the side so that you can see him. “You associating me with every animal that has sharp teeth is your problem, not mine.”

The microwave timer goes off, prompting him to take out the rice pack and stick it back in the soft alligator. There’s a nice little weight to it, and it’s pleasantly warm by the time he hands it to you, still pouting about your teasing.

He moves your legs so that he can sit on the couch then resituates them on top of his own thighs, getting comfortable and trying not to smile when you press the plushie (yeah, that’s what it is) to your stomach and sigh.

“That’s nice.”

“Just lemme know when it needs to be reheated.”

“So, you’re just gonna sit here all night watching shitty medical dramas and reheating my hiragator?”

“Yeah, I—wait, what?”

“You heard exactly what I said,” you glare in that playful way you do, squeezing the heated toy tighter to you.

“You cannot name it Hiragator.”

“Alligatoma?”

“That sounds like a fuckin’ cancer.”

“So, Hiragator it is. Now that that’s settled, you can go to the show.”

Hiragi leans back on the couch and rubs his hands down his face before dropping them back to your calves.

“S’not gonna be fun without you,” he grumbles.

“Bullshit. You’ll be able to get into the pit without worrying about me.”

“I’m not eighteen anymore,” he chuckles. “There ain’t a single bone in my body that wants to get into a mosh pit.”

Your pretty smile disappears as your fingers dig into plush green fur, and Hiragi watches in concern as you curl further in on yourself. Trying not to disturb you too much, he reaches for the bottle of medicine and pours 2 out, glad that your water bottle is next to you on the floor.

“Here,” he urges, holding the pills out to you. You prop yourself up on your elbow to take them before collapsing back on the cushions.

“Seriously, you don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

“Not like I have anything better to do,” he shrugs and changes the subject, “what episode are we on?”

“I started over so it’s the one where she’s dating Derek and the vet at the same time, and she’s getting stressed out about it.”

“Oh, when she has to get her appendix taken out?”

“Look at you remembering the details,” you giggle.

“I’ve probably seen it five damn times now, how could I forget?”

For the next hour, Hiragi sits with you, occasionally unwrapping a chocolate and handing it to you, sometimes rubbing your legs when you get that pained expression, trying not to think about how soft you feel and how he could get used to having you curled up next to him.

When he realizes the medicine either hasn’t kicked in or isn’t doing it’s fucking job, Hiragi finally braves the question, “did anything help before? I’m guessin’ you had periods before your old birth control, so what’d you do back then?”

“I don’t remember them being this bad, honestly, but sometimes when I’d have bad cramps…” you shake your head. “Never mind. Too much information.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’d probably think it’s gross.”

Well, now his interest is definitely piqued.

“Just tell me.”

He gives your calf a tiny pinch that makes you squeal, “fine,” while kicking his thigh. “When I was, like, sixteen, one of my friends told me that orgasms helped her when she was in a lot of pain, so I tried it.”

Hiragi’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry, but he still manages to ask, “and did it help?”

“Yeah, quite a bit, actually.”

He feels warm, like he’s touching your heating pad. Is he sweating? His face is probably beet red. Thinking about you like that, trying to relieve the tension in your body, fingers between your legs—

Stop. Stop thinking about it. He can already feel his dick stirring to life, and that is the last thing you should have to put up with right now.

“I told you you’d think it was gross.”

Hiragi sets his jaw and shakes his head.

“You’ve got a natural painkiller. Why not use it?” It’s a miracle his voice is coming out as smoothly as it is.

“Cause it’s… it’s weird doing it when you’re not in the mood, I guess. And, like, it can get a little messy.”

Fucking Christ.

“It’s hard to masturbate when you don’t feel sexy, and it’s hard to feel sexy when you’re cramping and bloated and weepy.”

“Makes sense,” Hiragi nods to himself, tracing little patterns on your leg, brain completely empty aside from the thought, I could do it for you.

“What?”

Ah, shit. He’s usually so good at thinking through things before saying them out loud, but apparently the pathway from Hiragi’s brain to his mouth chose this one fucking time to malfunction.

No taking that one back.

“I said I could do it for you,” he repeats.

“I’m sorry, just so we’re on the same page, you’re talking about…”

“Giving you an orgasm. Making you cum. However you wanna put it.”

He shifts your legs a little further away from the growing bulge in his pants.

Your eyes are wide, mouth hanging open, and he feels the need to defend, “just cause you said it helped before! If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just figured I’d offer.”

“I… honestly, I don’t know what to say. It’s been a while since anyone… and, I mean, it’d be weird, right? You and me? Plus, the blood, like… it’d be weird.”

“Whatever you say,” Hiragi hums. “I’m not scared of a little blood, though, just so we’re clear.”

“I never said you were. I know you’re very familiar with it, tough guy.”

“Pretty familiar with the female orgasm too, so you know.”

You make an undignified sound, something between a squawk and a shout that makes him laugh. “Telling me about your conquests isn’t gonna encourage me to let you stick your fingers up there!”

“I’m not gonna just stick ‘em up there, fuck, who have you been with that did that?”

“No one! I’m just saying!”

“Okay, Jesus, just watch your show.”

Hiragi makes a show of taking his hands off your legs and folds them behind his head. You somehow nestle deeper into the couch, hugging the alligator closer as you clench your teeth again.

How obvious would it be if he ran to the bathroom to rub one out? Would you be able to tell? He shouldn’t even need to. You barely talked about it.

But, the seed has been planted. The image of you on your bed with your knees open, your hand or maybe a toy rubbing over your sex.

Hiragi grabs a pillow and shoves it under your legs and therefore over his lap with the excuse that, “your heels are diggin’ into me.” That should take care of that for now.

About half an episode passes without the two of you saying anything, and when you do finally speak, it’s to quietly ask if he’ll reheat Hiragator for you.

“Only if you stop calling it that,” he says as he takes it from you.

“Never.”

He tosses it back into the microwave, of course, arms braced on the kitchen counter as he waits for the timer to go off. When he gets back, you have your eyes squeezed shut so tightly, it looks painful. There are tears right at the corners, and you’re taking slow, shaky breaths.

“Hey, hey, here,” he puts the plushie against your stomach and smooths a hand down your back, all the while wondering how the fuck you and every other uterus-having human puts up with this bullshit every month. It looks like hell.

“Ragi?” your voice cracks around his name.

He tilts his head, noticing your falling tears, and reaches over to wipe them away. “Hm?”

“You’re serious about helping me?”

He blinks at you. “You ever know me to be anything but serious?”

“I have seen very unserious sides of you. Sides that no one else sees.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t go thinkin’ you’re special or somethin’.”

“Special enough for you to make a very bold offer,” you shoot back with watery eyes and a raised brow.

“You ready to take me up on that?” He hopes he doesn’t sound too excited.

You nod emphatically, biting your lip while clutching that damn alligator like it’s your only lifeline.

“Alright, go get comfortable in bed. I’ll grab a towel.”

He helps you up, laughing through his nose when he hears you mutter something along the lines of, “can’t believe we’re doing this.”

You disappear into your bedroom, leaving Hiragi to wash his hands and grab the towel. He sheds his jacket in your room, hanging it on the doorknob, and even though he’s still fully clothed, he feels naked without the extra layer, not to mention his boots that are next to your front door.

You’re sitting up by your pillows, knees to your chest, voice too fucking meek for Hiragi’s liking when you ask, “do you want me to go put a disc in real quick? I don’t… these are just special underwear to, like, absorb. I don’t—I don’t have anything in right now, so…”

Hiragi stares at you while unfolding the towel, laying it out before motioning to it.

“Like I said before, ain’t gonna bother me. Now get comfortable and take those off.”

“So demanding, geez.”

You sound light-hearted, like you’re joking, but Hiragi sees the way your hands are shaking. You’re nervous. He doesn’t like that.

“Hey,” he stops you once you’ve pulled your underwear down to your thighs, “look at me.”

“If you tell me to call you sir or master or some shit, I’m kicking you out.”

“Shut up for just a second, please, I’m bein’ serious.”

“So am I! Don’t try to get all kinky—”

He grabs your face, pushing your cheeks together so that you’ll stop fucking talking.

“Listen to me.”

“I lish’nen,” you try, and it actually makes him smile.

“If you don’t wanna do this. If you’re not comfortable or if you’re scared or whatever, we don’t have to. I really am just tryin’ to help.” You nod under his hand, and he lets go. “I’m not gonna get grossed out. I’m not gonna judge you for anything, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer with a smirk, and god dammit, it actually makes his cock twitch a little.

“You’re fuckin’ impossible to deal with, ya know that?”

“And yet, here you are doing just that.”

You shimmy out of your underwear and drop them over the side of the bed. It leaves you in nothing but that old T-shirt—Hiragi’s old T-shirt—so thin he can see the peaks of your nipples when you lie back.

He sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to relax, to let your knees fall open, to bare yourself to him. That's not something he’s ever rushed a woman on, and he’s definitely not gonna rush you. You close your eyes, bite your lip, then slowly spread your legs.

Hiragi has to focus on breathing, in and out, in and out, as his gaze land on your pussy. Puffy lips decorated with sticky blood and slick. He’s glad your eyes are closed because he licks his lips at the view. Hiragi could stare all day, but that’s not what he’s here for.

“You ready?” he asks, voice lower than usual.

“Yeah, you can… you can touch me.”

He feels his dick throb at those words, growing even harder when he grazes his fingers over your mound. You gasp, body tensing before relaxing again, like you had to remind yourself that you’re safe here with him.

He slides a finger up your slit, through the wetness, glancing down to note the mixture of blood and arousal before he spreads your folds.

There are so many things he could say at the sight of your twitching hole, so many ways he could praise the pretty pink leaking dark red like some kind of sordid Valentine’s candy that Hiragi wants to devour.

His eyes fall on the little bud at the crest of your lips, cute and begging for attention, and when he circles it with a wet finger, you stifle a moan with your fist.

“You can be loud, it’s your place,” Hiragi tells you, watching your face as he gently rubs over your clit, “plus, I’ll know it feels good if ya keep makin’ noises like that.”

He gives it a little flick that makes your hips buck, and you swear at him.

It doesn’t take long for Hiragi to learn what you like and what you don’t. You like the circles he rubs on your clit. You like when he just barely dips a finger between your folds.

And, you really like it when he slowly slides his middle finger deep into your pussy.

“Ohhmygod…”

Using the thumb on his other hand, Hiragi starts teasing your clit again, pride swelling inside him at the way your eyes roll into the back of your head. Looking down, he watches his finger as it glides in and out of your body, fresh blood coating the digits. A thick string of it stretches from your hole to the towel beneath you, viscous as it mixes with your slick, and Hiragi can’t help but watch until it snaps.

“Fuck, that feels… that feels good.”

“Yeah?” He crooks his finger a bit, searching for that extra-swollen bundle, and when you cry out, he knows he’s found it.

The way you’re moaning and shifting your hips has him worked up, his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, and he wants to relieve some of the pressure so fucking bad, but he definitely doesn’t wannna give you the wrong idea.

“Can you—can you add another finger? I just need—more p-pressure… wanna be full.”

Hiragi groans. He can’t keep it in. And he knows he sounds wounded because it feels like you just shot him. You wanna be full.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he forces out, lining up his index with his middle finger and pushing them both inside you.

You suck them in greedily, needy as you start to chase your climax. Hiragi wets his thumb again, massaging your clit, eyes flicking from your cunt to your face, all your pretty expressions while he stuffs your pussy.

You’re making a mess of yourself and the towel. He can smell iron, which is strange because usually when he smells it, he can feel it in a busted lip or bitten tongue. Usually, when he smells it, he can taste it.

He's gonna cum in his pants if he keeps thinking about that, about shoving his face between your legs and feasting. He’s fantasized about eating you out countless times before, but never like this. Never so desperately. He’s never felt this fucking deranged over it.

“Fuck, please, please, please,” you cry, meeting his fingers on every thrust, trying to take more than he can give with them.

“What? What can I do?”

Hiragi raises to his knees, keeping pace with his fingers and planting his other hand by your head so he can lean over you.

So gorgeous like this—face splotchy, eyelashes wet with unshed tears, lips dark and swollen from the way you’ve been biting them. He has to fight not to kiss you, especially when you’re gazing up at him like this. Wanton. Hungry.

“What do you want?” he breathes. He’s too close to you, face just barely hovering over yours, and he’s sure you can see the lusty fog in his eyes, but you’ve got it too.

You whisper something, and he can feel the ghost of his own name against his lips, but not as clearly as he feels the words “fuck me” that fall from your mouth before you kiss him.

It’s harsh and desperate, teeth and tongues and heavy breathing before he breaks away to unbuckle his belt and free his aching cock.

“Don’t have a condom,” he says before reattaching himself to you, sucking on your bottom lip as he rubs himself over your messy pussy.

“Birth control, remember?” you pant. “S’why we’re here to begin wi—”

Hiragi pushes inside of you with a deep groan, one smooth thrust until he’s bottomed out and you’re clawing at his shirt. Your eyes are rolled back again, mouth barely moving against his like you’re in a daze.

“Feel full now, baby?”

You nod, and Hiragi gives you one more gentle kiss before he starts an even rhythm, his thick cock gliding in and out of you with ease. When his thumb finds your clit again, you moan his name like a plea, over and over again as your body starts to tighten up.

“Ragi, fuck, oh my god…”

Looking down, Hiragi watches your cunt swallow him, coating him in shiny red as a ring of thick white forms at the base of his cock. You’re a fucking mess, creaming all over him as he pushes blood and squirt out of your pussy.

“You gonna cum for me?” he grunts, feeling his balls tighten as his own orgasm builds. “Come on, baby, lemme see how good you feel.”

“So good,” you gasp, “s-so—oh, fuck…”

Your back arches off the bed just before you clamp down around Hiragi. Even if he didn’t want to cum, he wouldn’t be able to stop it, not with the way you milk it out of him—walls so soft and wet as they squeeze him, suck him even deeper as he empties his balls and paints your insides with hot cum.

All he wants to do is collapse on top of you, but he has enough sense to pull out first, causing both of you to hiss, then lets himself fall to the side.

It’s silent for a while, heavy breathing and voices from the TV filtering into your bedroom. Hiragi has the horrifying thought that nothing will ever be the same between the two of you after that.

That was as raw as it fucking gets. That was blood and guts and cum. So much cum.

Then, he feels you grab his hand and squeeze.

“Feel any better?” he asks, voice nothing but gravel.

“I feel a lotta things,” you hum. “Better is one of them.”

“That’s good, yeah?”

“Yeah… but I’m also sad,” you admit with a pout, and Hiragi rolls onto his side to look at you.

“There’s nothin’ to be sad about. You know we’re still good, right? We’re still—”

“It’s not that,” you sigh.

“Then what is it?”

You roll to face him, eyes still a little hazy from your orgasm but all big and shimmering when you look at him.

“Hiragator’s gonna get so lonely now that I have you to fuck the cramps outta me.”

“Oh my fucking god!”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your hands as Hiragi throws a leg over you and pulls you into his chest.

You are the worst—the absolute worst, and he loves everything about you, from the mess between your legs to the curve of your smile against his collarbone. Hiragi loves it all.

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 11

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, pregnancy symptoms, gun violence

a/n: An ENDLESS thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for having my back on gun lingo (me: American Citizenship=REVOKED) and for everything else. You're the best. ❤

Series Masterlist

--

“Are you just letting me win because I’m pregnant?”

His eyes lift to your face, unimpressed.  “That’s not a thing.”

“Sure it is,” you reply. “Grateful for carrying your child, you’ve taken pity on me and now you’re letting me win.”

He starts a low chuckle halfway through your explanation, and you grin at him as you slide a piece of wood from the middle of the tower, resting it on the top. You on the couch and him on the floor, your hands rest lightly on the small but hard swell of your stomach as you watch him choose his piece. 

“It always scares the shit out of me when it falls.” He says the words quietly, as if the volume of his voice alone could knock the tower over. Successfully sliding a piece from the bottom, he rests it on the top next to yours. 

The baby kicks, a sudden, sharp movement that has your hand automatically soothing the skin there and his eyes flash up from the table, his brow knit with concern. 

“You good?”

“Yea, I’m good. Just kicking again.”

He hums, watching you study the remaining pieces left. 

Near the end, this is the fourth time in a row you’ve played this game and your back twinges a little when you lean forward. Using the tip of your finger, you nudge several pieces to get a feel for how loose they are. 

“That’s cheating,” he protests. 

“It is not.”

“It is. I told you that already. You just gotta pick one –”

“And I told you,” you tease, “that everyone plays it this way. You test the pieces and –”

“You’re not testin’ anything,”  he insists, attempting to talk over you. “You’re compromising the structural integrity of the tower -“

“What?” you laugh. “What is this, another episode of Construction Corner with Joel Miller?”

He shakes his head with the curl of a smile, his hand reaching out to knock yours away and laughing again, you dodge it. His hand collides with the tower instead, knocking it over on the table between you, the pieces scattering everywhere. 

“Joel!” you scold him, but he isn’t listening. Done with the game, he gets on all fours with a slight grunt, crawling around the perimeter of the table.

“M’fuckin’ knees,” he says under his breath, and you giggle, watching him come closer. 

Pushing the table aside to get to you, he stops in front of your knees, and you automatically open your legs so he can fit his body between them, his large hands resting warm on the top of your thighs. 

“You lost,” he says lowly, grinning when you break into open laughter before feigning outrage. 

“Hang on, no I didn’t! You sabotaged me!”

“I would never,” he says with mock earnestness. “The mother of my own child? You think I would do that to you, honey?”

“You just did!”

You slide back to make room for him when he starts to crawl up to join you on the couch, reclining as your limbs shuffle together as he stretches out. He’s careful to rest himself on the side of you; one elbow propping him up while his other hand drifts down to the hem of your shirt. He plays with the worn fabric, lifting it slightly until he can see a peek of taut skin and then he’s smoothing it down, his hand lingering in place.  

His pinky brushes along the waistband of your sweatpants, your thighs shifting to press together.  

His eyes flick up to your face for a moment. “You need somethin’, honey?” he asks nonchalantly, his gaze back on his hand. 

“You know I do.”

It’s been distracting, your need. Insatiable, now that you’re not sick anymore and you aren’t sure if it’s the flush of hormones swirling through your system, but you’re always so wet. So wet, and empty. A fact that he’s only too willing to take advantage of. 

This morning, in your kneel by the bed as he eased himself into your mouth. 

Last night, when you were blinded by the strength of your release as you came from his tongue alone. 

The pleasure soaked haze of days before: a constant, needy ache blooming in your core, an almost desperate need for him, in whatever way he can give himself to you. 

He hums low at your response, a rumble that drags out of his chest. The sound washes over you, your nipples tightening. 

“Already want more, huh,” he asks, the tips of his fingers teasing beneath the band of your pants. “This mornin’ wasn’t enough?”

Planting your foot on the cushion, you push your hips upwards with a soft whine, and he chuckles. 

“My girl is needy today.”

“Seems like every day,” you answer him, turning your face to press a kiss to his throat. You push the collar of his shirt to the side, tugging it down for more access to his firm skin, and finding it, you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and kiss him again, this time with an open mouth. His skin tastes like salt and sweat and him, and you moan lightly against the tan expanse, dragging your tongue over it. 

His hand gently presses on your hip bone, keeping you on your back when you try to roll onto your side and you respond by wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his mustache before you kiss him. 

He wordlessly grants you your wish, his mouth opening yours as his hand slips underneath your cotton underwear, and when he cups your damp heat with a firm squeeze, he swallows the moan you let out into his mouth. 

His fingers push through the soft hair that covers your cunt, brushing along the hollow dip of your entrance and gently parting you, he lets out his own groan at the wetness that greets him. 

“I just fucked this pussy a couple of hours ago,” he says, his middle finger dipping inside you before sliding up to your sensitive clit. The pressure makes your hips jump towards his touch, and he smiles. “She already need me that bad again?”

You nod, your hand reaching down to join his. Threading your fingers together, you guide him where you need him most and he pulls back to watch your face as he sinks two fingers in down to the knuckle, an audible wet sound barely heard in the softly lit living room. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with practiced, sure strokes. 

Maddeningly precise, firm circles, ones that stoke the fire building in your belly until the soft sounds you’re making turn into shameless moans, and your hips rock against the full pump of his fingers.

He curls them inside you, his thumb speeding up into a faster, firmer rub and you lift your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His mouth finds a peaked bud, his tongue swirling over your nipple before he draws it into his mouth and your back arches, your voice hoarse when you cry out. 

“Keep going. Please keep going,” you chant, breathless and lost in a lust filled haze, chasing the high he’s built so expertly inside you. 

His fingers speed up, his thumb never ceasing and pulling the taut peak of your breast into his mouth with a suck, you clench around his fingers and come with a cry; the need between your hips spilling over with a heady wave of relief. 

His fingers are soaked and smeared with your slick when you help him work his belt buckle open, your fingers trembling as you reach in and find him hard and hot. The weight of his cock fills the palm of your hand, a sound breaking in the back of his throat when you pull him out of his pants and using his slick smeared hand, you hold his hip as he pumps himself with a rapid, firm hold, spilling slick ropes onto your stomach after a couple of strokes. 

Your body boneless and sated, you roll lazily onto your side to face him. 

“Hey now,” he scolds quietly, slightly breathless, tucking himself away. “You’re gonna get it all over the couch.”

“I don’t care.”

You don’t. Lord knows his spend is on the couch already for how many times he’s fucked you on it, but more than that, you don’t want to part from him to clean yourself off. 

Sleepy, spent and perfectly content, you tuck your face into the hollow of his throat and inhale his warm, masculine scent. His heart thrums beneath your lips, your nose nuzzling the fragrant softness of his skin and your hand slides up underneath his shirt, seeking out more. 

He’s so solid next to you, so broad. Barely fitting on the couch together, he lifts his arm to allow you to tuck yourself tight along him, and his beard catches on your lips when you tilt your face up to give him a kiss along the line of his jaw. A nibble, another small brush of your mouth and when you move down to give him another one over his shirt, you let your mouth rest against the beat of his heart. 

Alive, strong, healthy. 

Yours. 

You take another deep inhale over the cotton, your eyes closing. 

“You wanna take a nap?” you ask, so comfortable and content you’re already starting to drift. His responding laugh rumbles against your lips.

“Lazy bones,” he teases, no real conviction in the words. You nod, burying your face further into the safety of his chest, and he chuckles. 

Your breathing already evening out, your body relaxes next to his and he gives in, finding a comfortable position to rest his head. He lets his chin rest on the crown of it, and tightening his hold on you so you don’t fall off the couch, closes his eyes. 

–

The last dregs of summer slipping by with stagnant heat and a sweltering last gasp, autumn begins.  

You swim while you can, obsessed with the thought of a child floating weightless inside you while you float weightless in the river. Water sluicing over your skin, you let the current lift you from the bottom, the small swell of your stomach a rounded island above the surface as the rest of you floats just underneath. Hours spent this way, it’s the only time you can get true relief from the growing pressure between your hips. 

Your limbs weighted like lead upon getting out of the water, you try to explain it to Joel, who tries to explain it in terms of gravity and while it is clear he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, you find joy in the obvious affection on his face every time you drag yourself up the bank. 

Harvesting what you can from the garden without a means of preserving it, you base your methods on the gardening book turned into your personal Bible. The pages bent and marked in dozens of places, your cache is well stocked: the food you grew plus the food you found in other cabins alongside the meat Joel brought back from hunting, with an organized system of dried seeds for preservation next to it all. Everything in a cool, dark place tucked away in the pantry closet, you store everything that you can and cross your fingers for the rest. 

The tiny bump between your hips is a marvel to the both of you. Some days it’s nearly forgotten: an afterthought hidden underneath your clothes as you work in the garden, clean the cabin, organize your supplies. Each week slightly bigger than the last, you slowly find yourself breaking free of the days of constant sleep and nausea and shifting into something that seems more normal. 

The first day you notice a true, solid difference in your changing shape, Joel wakes to find you standing sideways in front of the mirror, studying your body. You watch his image reflect behind yours as he sits up, letting the quilts pool around his hips. His hair sleep mussed and flat on one side, you smile at his reflection and turn to face him. 

“Crazy, right?” you ask tentatively, both awe and insecurity creeping into your tone. 

He says nothing, his eyes locked on the bare swell and holding his hand out towards you, he guides you to stand between his legs. 

Then, he just…touches. Broad sweeps of exploration across your stomach, his thumb stroking what should be a hollow above your hipbone but now is rounded outwards with life. He looks up at you in a silent plea for you to understand all the overwhelming things he is feeling and wordlessly, you do. His face has always been more expressive than he realizes. When he’s done, he rests his forehead against the plane of your chest and wraps his arms around you so tight you’re forced closer to him in his hold. You stay there for a while, dragging your nails through those dark, rumpled curls until your body curls over his, returning his embrace.

An estimated timeline drawn up on the back of an old calendar, the dates are truly a best guess based on when you left the QZ. Your life ruled by the slow changing of the seasons more than anything, it takes you a couple of hours to work out that it’s approximately late October and counting backwards, the baby should be born sometime in the spring. 

One year here. A smile lifts the corner of your mouth as you think about how unsteady your footing felt with him when you arrived here versus the concept of birthing his child one year from that date. 

Filling the neat squares out, you felt it only right to add other important dates: Thanksgiving, Christmas, your birthday. 

“When’s your birthday?” you ask him, flipping through the limp pages to make sure you got everything. 

“September 26th,” he replies, and you pause, looking up. 

“Damn, baby. We missed it.”

He shrugs, busying himself with the tool kit in front of him. 

The date tugs at your subconscious for a moment and then it dawns on you. 

“Are you kidding me? Outbreak Day? That’s — Jesus, Joel.” You find yourself laughing, even though it isn’t really funny. A grim sort of laugh, devoid of humor. “That’s terrible luck.”

“Tell me about it,” he replies dryly, and before you can stop it, a laugh slips out. He looks up and smiles at you, the dimple in his cheek a deep indent and you mark it on the calendar all the same, shaking your head. 

That night in bed though, you give him a long, tight hug. 

“What’s this for?” he asks, murmuring the question into your hair. 

Sorrow had been slowly building in you all day, thinking about that birthday. He had joked about it, but the more you thought about your initial reaction, the worse you felt. It weighed you down, the realization of how he probably woke up that day with a certain way of spending it in mind, only to have the world in ruin and his only child dead by the time the day ended. 

His birthday now circled on the calendar, it was also the anniversary of her death. A visual reminder you weren’t sure he wanted.

You squeeze him tighter, burying your face into the soft crook of his neck. “Your birthday. M’sorry.” 

His body resistant to your apology at first, his first instinct seems to be to pull back. “For missin’ it? You’re kidding me, right? We –”

The shake of your head stops him, and when you don’t let go, he eventually melts into your embrace. His arms tightening in their hold and in understanding, his voice soothes you. 

“S’okay, honey. Don’t worry about it. It’s alright.”

–

You writhe on the sheets, the quilt twisted in your grip and a soft moan catches in the back of your throat when he licks your clit again, increasing the pressure. A damp sheen of sweat beads along your lower back, sticking to the cotton underneath you when you arch your hips into the heat of his mouth. 

For weeks he’s indulged your need for him, his own growing along with it. The calendar flipped to November just this morning, there wasn’t much to be done today and so he relished in dragging you back to bed, intent on keeping you there for as long as he could. 

He has. With slow, lingering kisses that grew in need until you straddled him with a weighted grind, with touches that bordered feral in their trembling hold as he grasped every inch of you that he could reach, and pulling two releases from you with those calloused hands alone, you felt limp and all used up, but he wouldn’t let you stay that way. 

His tongue is insistent, yet patient. The movement of it practiced, yet maddeningly slow. 

It feels good but it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease Joel. Please.”

“I’m not teasin’ honey. I want you to come like this. I know you can. You’re so –” he lets out a low groan, “- fucking sensitive, I want you to show me you can do it.” 

The dark crown of his head fits in the space between your thighs, and his eyes look up at you, watching your expression of frustrated bliss. His tongue flicks over you, laving a firm, wide stripe from your entrance to the bundle of nerves and when he starts to firmly circle it with the tip of his tongue, you cry out. 

The pressure between your hips from the baby centering all sensation between your legs to an impossible to ignore emptiness that you ache with constantly, the need amplifies into an all consuming sensation that quickly overtakes you – sometimes bordering on too much if he isn’t careful. 

He’s taken it slow this afternoon; nothing but seemingly endless time on his hands while he ignores the strain underneath the fly of his jeans, and his tongue works you a little harder, a groan slipping from his throat into your spread, soaked cunt. 

His hand splayed over your belly, it keeps you in place as you try to squirm away and a wave of saturated pleasure ripples through you, your body curling into itself. Any words you try to form slide into a breathless moan, your thighs starting to tremble against his ears, your fingers sliding through his hair. 

“Fuck – fuck,” you keen, arousal building to an upbearable height while your feet plant on the bed to push your hips into his face. He gives your clit a direct kiss, drawing it into his mouth as he fills you suddenly with two thick fingers and you let out a sob. 

“I’m – I’m–”

A sudden noise from outside makes him jerk back, alert. 

It takes you a minute to catch up, submerged deep in the weighted waters of an impending release, but the expression on his face sobers you quickly. 

“What –” you start to ask, but he gives you such a stern look that you immediately fall silent. It’s a look you haven’t seen in months, and adrenaline sends a shiver across your exposed skin, flooding quickly through your body. He slips his fingers from you, and you watch as he quickly rises from his knees. 

He’s shirtless, the top button of his jeans undone with his small belly pushing against the waistband of his pants as he leans forward to grab his rifle from the corner of the room where he’s left it propped. His broad frame is rigid with tension, but outwardly calm: his face still yet hyper focused, his dark eyes narrowed as he listens. His chin still smeared and damp with your slick, you watch as he flicks the safety off and in a practiced, fluid motion, positions the gun with the butt tucked into his shoulder with a glistening finger poised near the trigger.

Near silent, he crouches and takes a step forward, shaking his head in a reprimand when you scoot forward on the bed to join him. 

“Stay there,” he says quietly, but firmly. 

“You can’t go out there alone,” you plead, your hands searching for your pants among the bedding. 

“You ain’t comin’ with. Just stay put.” He jerks his chin at the corner of the room, at a small space between the dresser and the wall. “Get over there and hide. Don’t come out till’ I say so. You got it?”

“Joel,” you whisper fiercely, his back already facing you as he turns towards the door. “Joel!”

As soon as he rounds the corner into the hallway and disappears from sight, you stand and shove your legs into your pants, pulling them up into place. Wet and sticky between your thighs, you ignore the uncomfortable way the fabric clings and debate: stay or follow. 

You hear something in the front room of the cabin, furniture scraping over the floor as it’s being pushed to the side and peering out from the bedroom, you see Joel trying to set up a vantage point. Half hidden behind a chair and the window frame, his eyes are trained on something outside, and a shift in your footing has him looking over at you, urgency and anger tightening his features. 

“I said hide. Get back in the room,” he orders, a vein in his neck flexing. “I told you to stay in there.”

His attention snaps back to the window and then he’s standing up, finger near the trigger. 

Someone is outside, a figure distorted by the windows, moving along the edge of the property. Not a clicker, telling by their cautious, deliberate steps - a human. A man, judging by the size. 

After that, it all happens faster than you can process it. 

Whipping the front door open, Joel has his gun trained on the man immediately.

“Stop!” Joel’s voice is loud and terrifying, your body flinching at the sound. 

The sound of movement from outside and a low curse from Joel tells you that the order isn’t heeded, and you bite back a scream at the same time a shot rings out, splinters of wood exploding into the living room. 

Another shot bursts through the air, shattering a pane of glass and crawling quickly on your hands and knees, you fit yourself behind the couch, shaking as you curl into a tight ball. You can see Joel from your spot, his bare back tightly locked into place as he tries to line up a good shot. Whoever it is must now be hiding behind the tree line, because you know Joel would have taken a shot by now if he had a clear one. 

Instantly transformed into the Joel you knew before, you can’t tear your eyes away from how powerful he looks. Imposing and calmly confident, with a barely restrained rage in the tremble of his muscles, he’s terrifying. He doesn’t move, one eye closed as he keeps aim and when a corresponding two shots fire at him in rapid succession, he takes a deep, shaky breath in, not even flinching as they hit the door about a foot away from his head. 

The closeness of the shots has you covering your mouth with your hands, panicking. 

Your gun, your gun — where the fuck is your gun? 

Your mind races through your mental map of the cabin, and remembering it’s in the kitchen, you run a visual path between the couch and where you need to be. You’d have to cross right in front of the open door, but it could be worth it for two guns against one.

Right? 

Another shot rings out, this one piercing an instant, bright hole through the wall in the living room. 

“Come on,” Joel growls to himself. “Come on.”

You flick your eyes over to the kitchen, willing your body to stop shaking as you get ready to move when one more shot rings out, and then Joel is suddenly standing tall from his position behind the chair, aiming and squeezing the trigger. The deafening bang makes you flinch and watching him reload, your knees automatically draw into your chest to protect yourself.

He moves to walk quickly outside, and you scramble again to follow. 

His strides are longer than yours, but still cautious as his eyes scan the edge of the property. The silence around you is unsettling, and confirming there is no other immediate threat, he turns back towards you. When he comes closer, you take a step back at how furious he looks. 

“What did I tell you?” He spits out the words between clenched teeth, one hand whipping out to tug you close. “I said to stay put. Why the hell did you follow me out there?”

Tears immediately fill your eyes, slipping down your cheeks in a warm rush as the tremors in your body start to get stronger. “What – who was that?”

“Are you okay?” He ignores your question, the intensity of his gaze raking over your features, dark and laced with worry. His hand comes to cradle your face, sweeping down over your collarbone, his knuckles dragging over your stomach. A tactile confirmation of your safety, not satisfied until he’s inspected it. 

Nodding, peering over his shoulder at the treeline. “Was there only one of them?”

“I think so, but I gotta go check.”

Panic grips your body, your hand clamping around his wrist. “No. No you can’t. You –”

“I gotta, honey. If there was one, there’s probably more. You know that.”

You do. You’ve been on both sides enough to know the truth in his words, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the idea of him leaving. 

His arm slips around your shoulders, turning you towards the cabin. His words are directed at you, but his eyes remain vigilant. “I’m just gonna walk the perimeter, make sure there isn’t anyone else.”

“But you just said there would be –”

“I know what I said,” he replies firmly, guiding you through the door. “I know.” 

He faces you fully, his hand cupping your chin to keep your eyes on his. “You and I both know it’s better to get them before they get us. We can’t just sit and wait. I need you –” he pauses, giving you a look when you start to open your mouth. “I need you to get your gun, and then hide. Okay?”

“But –”

“No buts. Please, honey. Please.”

His expression brooks no room for argument, but it’s the softness around the corner of his eyes that has you nodding. Worry has seeped into his features, and if he’s worried, you know it can’t be good. 

But you also trust him.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself while committing his face to your memory. 

“Okay.”

[yayasvalveplay]

Ratchet doesn’t realize he’s sparked until he goes into labor.

"Sl-slag!" Ratchet grabbed at his stomach, bending over himself as a wave of pain washed over him. What was happening? Why was he feeling this way? He had just felt fine only a few nano-klicks ago. So what changed for him? He ran a self diagnostic and couldn't believe his optics.

gestation chamber dilation: 30%

His forge. why was, why was his forge opening? That shouldn't be- He can't be- How could he have not noticed? He called the first bot that popped into his helm.

::Hello?:: First aid, commed back after receiving the emergency com from Ratchet. ::Ratchet are you doing alright? did something happen?::

::Ya somethin's happaning kid. Need you to come to my location, and bring these materials.:: He commed back, sending him a list that First aid need to grab in order to help him deliver this sparkling. ::Ratchet is someone having a sparkling!?::

::Yes, now hurry up::

Ratchet invented, opening up his valve cover, and slowly lowering himself onto his hands and knees for better balance. He just needs to vent, that's all he has to do until First arrives. Actually now that he thinks about it, it may be a good time to also comm Drift. he would want to be here for his first creation. ::Ratty? Something wrong?:: ::Need ya to come here.::

::I'm on my way.::

Both the medic holding the necessary items for birth, and the Sire of said sparkling arrived at the hub suit at the exact same time. both blinked at one another, before immediately rushing inside, more worried then before. "RATCHET YOU ARE HAVING A SPARKLING!" First Aid yells, plopping everything on the ground near Ratchet and getting to work. on the other side, Drift sat, holding his servo, giving his back a rub.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sparked." Drift asked, almost too quietly as if saying it out loud would ruin the calmness of the situation.

"Trust me, If i knew myself. I would of told you." "Not to be rude Ratchet sir, but what the frag do you mean if you knew yourself."

"Your guess is as good as mine. Never showed any symptoms, my stomach didn't even grow at all. I only realized it because my forge is dilating." "What percent is it at now?"

A small pause.

"50%"

"I see then. I will try my best." "It's why I commed you Aid."

This would be the longest 5 hours of Ratchet's life.

[archangeldyke-all]

Synced period sev save me, save me big baby sev, save me 🙏🏾

in all seriousness, my period dropped in the middle of me writing last night

so my request for the day is sevika actually being excited about syncing your periods because it means you guys have been around each other enough to link like that <3

LETS GOOOO i've been thinking about this ask since i first saw it.

men and minors dni

she'd come home and find you curled in on yourself on the couch, groaning as you hold a hot water bottle to your abdomen.

her first reaction is pity, as it always is when she finds you suffering from cramps.

but then, she remembers that she's on her period too.

and a grin breaks across her face.

"fuck are you smiling at?" you ask grumpily, pouting at your girlfriend. she giggles and runs over to flop down on top of you. you laugh, your girlfriend's joy infectious as she nuzzles against your neck and presses kisses to the sensitive skin there.

"you got your period?!" she asks, elated. you chuckle at her expression.

"yeah. why're you so excited? thought you knocked me up?" you tease. she laughs.

"i got my period at work today!" she says, grinning. you blink up at her in confusion.

"so?" you ask.

"so!?" sevika asks, gobsmacked. "so we're synced!" she says, grinning.

you laugh and pull her down for a kiss.

"you're ridiculous." you say. she laughs on top of you, reaching down to re-arrange the hot water bottle so it's squished between both your stomachs, both of you sighing at the relief the warmth brings.

"babe, it's so fuckin' romantic." she insists as she settles back down on top of you. you wrap your hands around her, rubbing her lower back, knowing it always aches during her period.

"it's a little too gross to be romantic." you say.

"no it's not! our bodies are so used to each other that we're literally, physically on the same page now. i always knew we were perfect for each other, and now we got the proof!" she says.

you burst into giggles, your grumpiness melting away at your girlfriend's excitement.

"okay, okay. i guess it's kinda romantic." you say. sevika grins and kisses you.

"take out for dinner?" she asks. you nod.

"somethin' greasy."

"duh."

you guys would be so cute, trying to take care of one another at the same time.

sevika'd bring you pain killers and forget to take some for herself, so you'd bring her some.

you'd make her her favorite meals and buy her a fresh bottle of her favorite whiskey, and she'd come home that night with grocery bags full of your usual cravings swinging on her wrists.

she'd buy you guys a big, bed sized towel, so you could both sleep on the same towel together in case of any night time leaks.

sevika's worst symptom on her period is her migraines. yours are your cramps.

your solution to this is to have sevika lay her head on your chest while you massage her neck, her body heat keeping your lower stomach nice and warm. the two of you can be found laying like this in bed almost every night you're bleeding, in a dark bedroom with lavender oil diffusing around you, soft music playing as you cuddle.

(also, syncing means that you guys ovulate at the same time, if you know what i mean, wink wink)

the more months that go by with the two of you synced, the more you realize she was right. it is pretty romantic.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep4

• cooper and lucy wandering the desert and mans starts coughin', somethin' settin' in • whoa i just realized you could hear roger roaring from outside • roger was at a clinic, probably trying to find something to help him ☹️ • i wrote a whole entire post on this scene but anyways can i say we see full blown uncooked cannibalism hardly ten minutes into episode four like is everyone ok • the fact this scene is presented with a lot of tension, like a horror film and truly it's just a guy named roger fighting to stay not feral • i wonder how cooper met him? ghouls tend to know each other after a while [on account of the discrimination], i'm sure he was checking with this man every now and then tbh. perhaps. a friend. • cooper asks roger how he's feeling and he says "you know... it's hard out here. dang smoothies can be so unkind" and i just 😞 • "i see you got a smoothie of your own" ding ding ding ghoulcy this one's for you • you know what's particularly sad about ghoulification is for example that roger has had to isolate himself from others, even ghouls, because he was turning • roger asking for a vial and cooper looking at lucy [cooper, you botched the using lucy for bait, come on] • firmly in the camp that if cooper had vials left, he would give one to roger. cooper has shown himself to be crude and cruel seeming at times but i just know he went there with purpose • roger accepting he's turning and telling cooper and lucy to leave as a warning, roger seemed so nice, why and how did he get like this

• "i did ok" 😞 • going from standard human to turning into a feral ghoul in less than twenty eight years in the fallout universe is insane and idk if there's a lot of lore on why someone could end up like this and someone like cooper not • the difference in cooper's and roger's symptoms are pretty stark--- not entirely sold on him coughing and passing out is from ferality and more inclined to think chem withdrawals but i digress • "say, you remember how good food use to taste?" post war life is so bad, nobody in the wasteland remembers when food use to food 😭

• because roger is really nice and having a conversation, roger turns, speaking to lucy. cooper using this as an opportunity to kill roger seems so sudden and a betrayal until • look at cooper's eyes and his reaction after pulling the trigger--- not exactly the expression of someone who is in it "for the love of the game", in fact, i have come to view this act as a mercy kill • which is ironic of course because as we've all come to see, lucy does the exact thing for her own mother four episodes later • once feral, ghouls roam the wasteland operating on two instincts alone: hunger and defense. they are a threat to all those around them and i don't recall much on reversal. that's no life. roger would've turned feral and harmed them or others, it is sad • cooper mercy killing roger was in some ways compassionate, he had a sweet conversation with roger giving his last thoughts something warm and nice. cooper then going on to butcher and consume his flesh was an uh choice 💀

• and lucy immediately confused was like "wait?, why'd you do that? he was sick." i don't know if she entirely understands ghoulification, seems she thought maybe he could be helped • lucy is basically confused, begging cooper to not like, eat this guy 😭 • i'm gonna have to agree that he didn't have to eat roger, radroaches is everywhere and for free, still pondering if he did this to fuck with her or because some reason i am missing • cooper asking lucy what her name was [hold on, why he care about that?" and lucy so nearly coming this close to finding out what hank did and who cooper is [since she didn't ask his name] • "sometimes a fella's got to eat a fella" is my all time favourite quote in season one of this show lmao • cooper be funny as fuck for no reason like this man's brain is cooked • i would personally like to ask walton whose idea it was to go "mmm. mmm." while eating irradiated human flesh like that, like why is the pre war actor cooper howard like this • lucy is incomprehensibly disgusted but then goes on a thing [a vulnerable thing] about vault 32 starving [in the great plague of '77] and that she lost her mother during this time and that her father never resorted to cannibalism. there's some time and memory discrepancies here • "well there's what people say they did and what they really did" i wanted cooper to be wrong so bad here when he went on to clown hank by saying "i'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. i bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbour's ass on it" • lmao they gave all the best lines to cooper, i'm sick, he was right • lucy, having had enough and not finding cooper's humour being used as a way to cope like this asks this disturbed little man • "how do you live like this? why keep going?" and for the briefest moment, and i do mean brief, cooper feels the crushing weight of who he is when lucy confronts him like this • of course he shakes off a moral inquiry and transfers it to another as he asks "why the fuck am i doing all the work?... ass jerky don't make itself." and forces lucy to do it instead • twice now this man has talked about ass in less than ten minutes and for everyone's sake i'll move along 💀

• woody basically trying to interrogate the raider prisoners and getting nothing, meanwhile--- i think they already starting to be poisoned • ooo ok but betty telling norm he's the last standing maclean in the vault so his words carry and people listen. it occurred to me maybe he inadvertently inspired the poisonings of the raiders but it's also occurring to me that because they couldn't just all be shot outright, being poisoned was the best follow through method, nobody notices until it's already too late. now who is sneaky enough for that? • "when clever boys like you are angry, you're lucky not to have seen where that can lead." so... was betty present for shady sands? hmm • betty asking norm to tread lightly is very... not a threat, but she's watching him, right

• ok! we have that second water scene. it's confirmed here cooper is fetching water from an irradiated source [hence why denying lucy any makes sense] he puts it in his canteen and drinks it just fine. lucy is obviously mindlessly thirsty because she defeatedly drops down to drink the murky, stagnant irradiated water. it's so irradiated, her pip boy is going crazy, she literally gags in the scene • "now you're getting it. how does this golden rule jibe with what's going through your head now?" well i mean we knew cooper been fucking with her the whole time and showing her the wasteland streets but it is also unlikely she would have found a clean water source where they are, i guess her getting radiation sickness may have been inevitable but cooper denying her water kept her from being sick • after another insane string of sentences from this centuries old movie star, lucy finally asks "what are you?" and it's more like "what the fuck is wrong with you?" • "oh i'm you, sweetie, you just give it a little time" is majorly menacing after everybody just drank stagnant rad water like it's koolaid • cooper felt so smug then was zapped with karma again because he has a coughing fit directly after telling lucy this lmao • walton has such a good old man cough ❤️ • lucy takes cooper coughing up a lung as an opportunity to run [where i don't know but] • cooper uses his lasso skills he used to use at kid's parties to pull lucy back and then says some shit like "where you think you going? you ain't going nowhere."

• so we have arrived at the infamous and intriguing finger biting off scene--- can i just say she bit his finger off with such ease and then! cooper doesn't even act like it hurt, he seems... pleased he got that kind of reaction out of lucy. he's like into it 💀 • "there you are, you little killer" i'll keep this pg13 and say cooper really wanted to get a rise out of lucy, to bring the dog out of her, huh • he... then proceeds to cut her [corresponding hand's] finger off. ironically applying the "do unto others as you would have done unto you" tit for tat, if you will • i was surprised he did this because like ok, she spat it out? pick it up and reattach it, fella 😭 but there's more under the surface here because • cooper says "now that right there is the closest thing we've had to an honest exchange so far." and he's being framed in a close up so close, you can see his dainty eyelashes, sun shining in the background, his hazel eyes sparkling--- this is not on accident ☝️ gdgkdkfd • there's a lot of symbolism to be had but for now, i'll save that for next episode notes when cooper does the thing • ah chet! and steph. i kinda am of the idea she strategically got with him but anyways! who wouldn't! chet hot as fuck! and steph look like an assassin • bert's shoes so small gldgldfl • steph is definitely angry and sad dealing with bert's death in her own special way [trying to fuck chet] • excuse me but why they turned an almost sex scene into a birthing scene 😭💀 • lucy been walking the wasteland without a shoe, how she do it 😭 • i did not pick up on cooper bartering lucy for two months' worth of vials [thanks subtitles] • "mint condition" [looks at a bloody stump on hand] "near mint condition" now who fault is this?? lmao • "you got problems out here too, sweetheart" like, shut up 😭 • cooper every time he interacts with a mr. handy is one of the only few places he gets to hear a voice of this old friend • "best you try your luck behind that door" well at least he untied her • this is like the third time he's gotten instant karma with lucy because either he pretended to keep it together until she went in or genuinely didn't know he was going to pass out but • went through the five stages of grief trying to figure who he sold her to because i deadass was thinking the same thing lucy was 😭 • lucy being given the finger of like, a corpse or something because it's grey 😭 forever changed by the wasteland, always carrying a little bleakness and death with her ❤️ • lucy never experiencing real cotton [or maybe only rarely] • lucy calling cooper a creature 😭 • "he put a leash around my neck and made me drink from puddle water that i'm pretty sure was some kind of animal pee" sending 😭 she talking to this evil mr. handy like it's a person • her recounting her captivity with cooper like he was simply being mean to her is just • "and i thought i was here to be a sex slave." "what?! no! what a disgusting idea. i'm simply going to harvest your organs." damn, fallout which one is worse, like fuck---

• hope the jello cake veronica got wasn't poisoned... • "what are you looking at?" "a murderer in a cage, paying the price for what you did to us. for what you did to the innocent people in vault 32" and norm gets circumstantial evidence from a raider by accidentally cross examining one of them with it being more than anything woody could coax out of them • one thing about the macleans, they smart • i also think it's excellent writing that intrigue was spurred like this by a raider saying vault 32 wasn't innocent because they were running an experiment like all the vaults did, everything isn't so black and white • norm reads every situation correctly because why he read chet by saying chet came along to investigate because norm reminds him of lucy fkdgkdkg • still piecing together the full extent of vaults 31, 32, 33 together but at first i couldn't understand why it looked like so many took their own lives--- apparently them discovering what vault 31 was about started a rebellion but two years seemed so recent to me. curious how this overlaps with shady sands if it does • they showed the spooky ass rat utopia experiment still playing on the tvs in there but i wasn't sure if this was explicit about that being vault 32's experiment

• lucy being prompted to continue on because of a flashback from her mom upon awakening 🥲 • "lucy sweetie what are you doing out here?" and those were her memories on the surface [nevermind cooper calling her [[condescendingly]] "sweetheart"] • i did not realize the ghouls were being kept in the freezers but it looks like they either only sell ghouls or keep the ghouls "on ice" [not unlike how dom pedro would keep cooper and cut pieces off of him] and collect the organs of standard people right then and there • "sir, you can't do this. please, i need my organs" lucy, it's just a robot bulter, he's not a real guy 😭 • the way lucy got out of this pickle quick, almost got snip snipped but short circuited the murderbot • lucy putting her murdercap on and putting drano in the murderbot's syringes, clever girl • it was so "star wars" of her to treat mr. handy like a person and then the guys running the organ trafficking scheme going "you might as well be holding an air conditioner hostage" 😭 • the organ traffickers running the super duper mart ring are so dull and banal evil types, it's so satire

• i just registered those two organ trafficker guys got a camera and can see cooper laid out in front of the store • lucy freeing the ghouls 🥲and one even thanking her [even the feral ones 💀] • poor martha, i peep how we see lucy's grey finger and it being shown used to defend herself against martha in her feral state • organ traffickers got ate up bless • nothing lucy did besides shoot was going to honestly stop martha, sometimes your pacifist playthrough doesn't go as planned • the pip boys still being on and running on the not alive people in vault 32 • "death to management" and it's directly the reference to vault 31's experiment, right there

• lucy walking out of there with mismatched shoes but two shoes nonetheless ☝️ • i guess lucy sincerely did not comprehend cooper is a ghoul or ghoulification, i suppose most vault dwellers literally would never know, that's post war history, wow • lucy asking cooper about if the vials keep him from going feral and he cannot even speak, he can only nod, from a prone position, on the ground--- the power/framing trade off is excellent • lucy bends down, briefly rolls the gun in her hand, while cooper lies helpless, she delivers a fatal line • "i may end up looking like you. but i'll never be like you" harbouring not enough ill will against him despite mistreatment, she gives cooper several vials, directly near his hand. didn't have to do none of that shit! • if i was cooper, i'd be scared as hell of this lady, she took down an organ trafficking ring in a grocery store ran by two armed guys, a murderbot, with some feral ghoul hostages, all of the bad and dangerous people fucking died • she really could've ended cooper right then and there, his devotion in season two gone be unmatched lmao

• i truly think he had a hint of a smile on his face after she helped [save his life] by anyways • lucy walks into the proverbial sunset meanwhile this man shambles into super duper mart about to go on the biggest bender the wasteland has seen since the bombs dropped • cooper gets so fucked up, i lost count how many things he ingested, king said all of 'em • cooper is so goddamn famous, his film "the man from deadhorse" is just sitting next to a tv • you could say here is where cooper has a crisis of conscience whereupon he holds the tape in his hand but truly we know already he had that centuries ago when he filmed "the man from deadhorse"

• cooper watching the scene, the very moment in his life where things started to shift--- he tries to cock an invisible fun, being unable as he remembers his trigger finger is gone [neutral, disarmed, here's where i think he decides he wants to sew on lucy's finger to his hand] it's like he's starting over, a moral rebirth but with his trigger finger • they really made cooper say "you commie son of a bitch" in a western, just ugly propaganda • let's examine "feo, fuerte, y formal" again! "ugly, strong, dignity" does post war cooper have two out of three on that front? is this his step into regaining dignity again? • cooper was always playing characters, it was expected of him and he got paid for it. it feels like a wall is being torn down, something is being shed here. and maybe it's this character he's masquerading as • cooper and lucy both having revelations in the super duper mart--- lucy realising you can't always reason and logic out of a situation and cooper being confronted with the fact you can keep your morality and sense of self intact and a horrible place and situation doesn't have to change you

[chaisshitposts]

Hi I am rabbit🐇 anon and I wanna say that Idk why but i m not understanding the pych-k method like i don't get what PPL say especially when ppl tag that post I just don't get it so can you tell step by step how to do pych-k method for void.

P.s we r same age lol

oh yeah??? cool! glad to meet a fellow adult 🐇 anon🤝 and that's ok, I'm more than happy to explain it for ya in simpler terms, it be like that sometimes so I get it. yer mind is like a computer, yer subconscious is the motherboard of info, and while ya do psych-k ya are basically downloadin' an entirely new program with new codin' and all that jazz with the affirmations ya choose, then ya save that affirmation in yer motherboard.

psych-k is about usin' yer entire brain, both hemispheres simultaneously, and how to do it is super simple. when you're just startin' out with it, I always recommend that ya start off with your left side (it doesn't really matter what side ya start with but some people do better when they have clear instructions)

left side -> ya wanna start off with crossin' yer left ankle over yer right ankle, set yerself a five minute timer and then start it, immediately afterwards you're gonna cross yer left wrist over yer right wrist and then interlock yer fingers. for a visual aid, check out this video -> it's not very long and I hope it'll be easy for ya to follow while ya are doin' this pose, you're gonna close yer eyes and repeat yer affirmation for the duration of yer timer. with this pose, ya more than likely will start to feel an influx of thoughts that may try and argue with yer affirmation. it's important to invite those negative thoughts and just let them flow, let them happen, and just keep repeatin' yer affirmation over and over. what yer doin' is teachin' yerself somethin' new until these resistant and negative thoughts disappear. i should also mention that sometimes ya may not experience any negative thoughts at all, which is fine too, just keep affirmin' for the five minutes. some folks also report that they feel physical symptoms when doin' psych-k, which is also normal, and it's perfectly okay if ya don't, that's also normal, everyone is impacted differently.

ya hold this posture for the entirety of yer five minute timer. once you're done you're gonna 'save' yer progress by uncrossin' your ankles and wrists and then press the finger tips of both yer hands together (kinda like when villains are havin' their evil scheme moment, y'know) just make sure all yer fingers touch each other and hold it for 10 seconds --- like below BUT MAKE SURE ALL YER FINGERS TOUCH TIPS 🙏, no palms need to be touched, you're not prayin'.

once you're done, you're gonna repeat the entire process for the right side where ya cross yer right ankle over left ankle, and yer right wrist over yer left wrist, hold that pose for five minutes with yer timer and then save it again with the pose mentioned above.

ideally, this'll completely change whatever limitin' belief ya had with the affirmation ya chose after a single session, BUT sometimes it can take more than one single session of psych-k which is also completely normal especially when dealin' with something that's been deeply embedded in yer mind for such a long time. think of it like a stubborn program in yer computer that you're tryna get rid of, sometimes it can take a few tries to completely wipe out the old programming.

somethin' else that can happen is that psych-k did work but does not instantly reflect in your 3D which can sometimes make people think it didn't work so they fall back into old thinkin' and start reaffirmin' the old story. h o w e v e r, ya can easily find out if psych-k worked through the use of muscle testin'. I'll provide some reference posts for muscle testin' below which can also be used in combination with any and all methods of manifestin'.

muscle testing applied kinesiology

psych-k is just a form of focused, super affirmin'. it can also be used to calm yerself down just from simply crossin' your ankles, many people do it unconsciously without realizin'. i recommend that the next time ya have a moment of panic, anxiety, or any other negative feeling, ya should try crossin' yer ankles and see what happens. 🕵️

if ya need anymore clarification, just let me know!!!