#i want to stop being nauseous and in pain and so so so exhausted all the time. im so tired.

[weed-cat]

I HATE EBV!!!!!!!!!

[sidemari]

• No other choice •

A Dead by Daylight NSFW One-Shot.

Character included: Danny Johnson (Ghostface) x Fem!Reader

TW: Coercion, fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, dirtytalk, swearing, stalking behavior, unhealthy relationship, reader's distorted feelings, death mentions, violence.

Mari's notes: This is a dark content post. Do not read it if you're uncomfortable with those kinds of works. Only 18+ people can interact.

You were so close.

The five generators already built, the exit gate almost completely open.

That was when the game really started.

He decided he was tired of being merciful to his stupid prey.

In a few minutes, the other three survivors had their lives taken, right in front of you, in an obscene and twisted way enough to make you nauseous.

You ran as fast as you could, searching for the hatch somewhere on the map, trying desperately to save your life.

After what seemed like decades, you finally found the hatch, along with a Ghostface already surrounding it.

He had closed the hatch before you could reach it.

The exit gates were not an option, he would easily catch up with you.

All that was left for you was to try to find some key left in a chest by the Entity.

You ran away again, trying to come up with a plan in your mind.

"I'm fucked." You whispered to yourself as you ran. Your legs were exhausted from the excessive effort, your speed decreasing steadily as the trial went on.

Reaching the main building on the map, you looked back for the first time since your sprint. He was on your heels.

"Damn you." you said harshly, preparing to run through a series of windows, thinking that this would give you some advantage in your escape.

"It's useless." He laughed. "You're just postponing your destiny." He followed you through the interior of the building, hunting you like prey, his determination to catch you stronger than ever. "Hey, bunny... You played well, but not well enough to escape."

"Son of a bitch." You cursed, losing speed as you jumped window by window.

"Ouch, that hurt." He pretended to be hurt by your words. "Oh, bunny... When I catch up with you..." He sighed, imagining everything he could do to you.

It was the last window.

And you were exhausted.

"Shit!" Your vision blurred and dizziness took over you. Stepping wrong, you twisted your foot in an extremely painful way, causing a scream of discomfort.

The shock paralyzed you for a few seconds and those seconds were enough for him to reach you.

Your eyes widened and you limped towards the window, but it was in vain. The pain was excruciating and you wouldn't be able to jump to the floor below as easily as you wanted.

"Gotcha!"

Ah, the fear.

The most primal instinct for survival.

The despair and hopelessness.

He could feel these feelings exuding from your exhausted body.

His hands gripped your waist tightly, stopping your ridiculous idea of ​​jumping through the last window towards the floor below as your last available resort.

"I told you it was useless." He grunted, pulling your body closer. "Look at you... You only hurt yourself." His head tilted to the side in false concern. "You're the last survivor of the trial, you should cooperate with me if you want to get out of here alive."

"Please..." You whimpered. "Let me go! You've already killed all three of them..."

"And you think you're more deserving of staying alive than they were, love?" You cringed at the pet name.

"No... It's just..." Tears formed in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. "We were so close..."

You wiped your tears away furiously, cursing yourself internally for showing weakness in front of a killer.

"Oh, bunny, I don't want to see you cry." He squeezed your waist with his hands as a vile way of reassuring you. "Not because you were unlucky, at least."

You accepted that there was no way out. Would he use his Memento Mori on you? Or would he let you bleed on the hook until the Entity took your soul?

Your gaze was lost.

Completely empty, lifeless.

The adrenaline already absent made you wish it would end as soon as possible.

"Kill me already." You whispered. "Please." Your tone of voice made his heart flutter in pleasure.

"No, bunny, you misunderstood. If you cooperate with me, I'll let you go. All you have to do is tell me whether or not you accept this proposal."

"What do you want from me?"

"I don't want something from you, I want you. All of you." He whispered against your ear, pulling your body impossibly close to his so you could feel his erection poking at your back.

Your eyebrows furrowed in disgust.

"No... I... I've never done that." You mumbled, shaking your head no.

"You'd rather bleed to death, I see." The sharp blade of his knife scraped against the skin of your neck, causing a small cut yet deep enough to bleed. "What a shame. You were a fun survivor to chase." He was about to plunge the blade into your neck when you whimpered an extremely pathetic "Wait."

"Hmm?" He chuckled. "What's wrong, bunny? Changed your mind?"

You examined his mask before whispering that you were willing to cooperate with him.

"Good choice, bunny. You're smarter than you look." He pulled you into one of the rooms in the building, causing you to hiss in discomfort due to your foot.

It was a bedroom.

Ruined, but it was a bedroom.

A working generator caused a constant noise in the ambience.

You looked at it sadly.

All that effort... And for what?

"Take off your clothes." He ordered, swinging the knife in his hand.

You stood still, not having the courage to start undressing.

"Did you fucking hear me?" He growled, venom dripping from his words.

Your trembling hands went towards the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning them one by one with difficulty. You weren't wearing a bra underneath, so with the last button undone, the shirt slid to the floor, exposing your breasts to him.

Underneath the mask, his pupils dilated with lust. He was so ready to fuck you right there, but he waited patiently for you to undo your pants and boots.

"Your panties come off too." He murmured with pleasure when you hesitated, stepping closer.

You removed the last piece of clothing, a sinister shiver running down your spine.

"What are you going to do to me?" You asked him, anxiety written all over your voice.

His hands pulled your body against his, making your breasts press against his torso and you whimpered at the sensation.

"Oh, my little bunny..." He breathed against your ear. "I'm going to fuck you so hard... I'm going to fuck you until you lose all your remaining strength." You shivered in anticipation.

"Lay down." He gestured to the king-sized bed behind you and you obeyed him without resistance.

He removed the glove from his dominant hand, using his thumb to tease your clit before his middle and ring fingers collected the essence dripping from your sex.

"Fuck, you're so wet." He sneered. "You were fighting for your life just now and you're this wet? What a slut"

"Ghostface..." You whispered.

"Danny. Call me Danny"

"Danny..."

He removed his characteristic mask, revealing an extremely handsome face underneath it. You became absorbed in him, your gaze getting lost in his dark brown eyes. How could such a handsome man be so vile?

His fingers penetrated you, stretching you and preparing you to receive him soon. You could barely stand him masturbating you with both fingers, the burning sensation was present and very real.

"It hurts..." You whimpered, trying to close your legs only to have them forcefully opened.

"You're so tight, bunny... Fuck, I wonder how you'll be able to handle me fucking you good" His movements became faster and your thoughts more confused.

"Danny..." You whispered, catching the man's attention.

"Yes, my love?" Again, that pet name.

"Fuck me already"

How those two little words had unleashed something dark inside him.

You, a naively pure survivor, asking a guy like him to fuck you?

"Hmm, I don't think I heard you right." He pulled his fingers from your sex, licking them to taste you. "Fuck, you taste so good." He practically whimpered, before pulling you into a kiss, allowing you to taste a trace of your own essence on his tongue. He then sucked your tongue with his lips before moving his kiss down to your neck.

"Even after a trial, you still smell so good..." His tongue abused the sensitive spot below your ear, marking the skin with a painful hickey. "Repeat what you said moments ago, bunny." He kissed your breasts before sucking them urgently.

"I asked you to fuck me." You whispered, your hands caressing his dark hair as he busied himself with your breasts. "I want to feel you inside me, marking me as yours, making others know that I belong to you."

"Fuck, bunny... I didn't know you were that dirty." He laughed. "Asking to be fucked by a serial killer? That's sexy as hell. But if this is just manipulation, ah... I'll make you bitterly regret deceiving me." He threatened, his hand now squeezing your neck strong enough to make you loose your breath for some seconds.

It wasn't manipulation.

You just had no other choice.

Either you got into his twisted ideas and tried to take advantage of that bizarre and disgusting situation so you could save your life or you would just wait for it all to end miserably.

His teeth bit your nipple gently, making your body shudder beneath him and moans of pleasure leave your mouth.

"Ready?" He asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. You hummed, watching him remove his tunic, his cock freeing itself from the prison of fabrics. You nodded, allowing him to crawl between your legs, his cock lining up with the entrance of your vagina.

He penetrated you in one go, reaching as deep inside you as he could.

You whimpered, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively and your nails digging into the skin of his back, scratching him so deliciously that he almost came on the spot.

A few tears of discomfort wet your cheeks, but he wiped them away carefully, reassuring you.

"Hey, it's okay... You did it." Your eyebrows furrowed in pain and your breathing was labored.

"Danny..." You were feeling so sensory overloaded that it hurt. "It hurts so much..."

"Shh... I know, my bunny, I know." He kissed your lips gently. "Still, I'm going to start moving." And with that, the thrusts began. During the very first moments they were slow, but then they became violent.

You wished he would be more gentle since it was your first time, but you could barely say anything other than his name, much less formulate a sentence about how all of this was too much for you to handle.

"Fuck, squeeze me with your pussy, go on." He grunted between the thrusts, your cunt involuntarily contracting around him hard enough to make him see heaven. "That's it, just like that... You're so good for me, bunny." He groaned, his thumb stimulating your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you melt beneath him.

"Danny!" You moaned as he stimulated that exact sensitive spot inside you in the most delicious way yet. "Fuck, that feels so good..."

"Oh really? My bunny likes to be fucked by her owner?" His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave marks. "Tell me, bunny, you've always wanted someone to fuck you as good as I do, haven't you?" He teased you, a cruelly malicious smile plastered on his face.

"Yes, it's t-true." You whimpered, your orgasm so close it hurt. "Faster." You begged, your nails leaving marks on his broad back. He obeyed your request, the pace of his thrusts getting viciously faster, fast enough to bring you both absurdly close to your climax.

"You're so fucking hot" He sighed, his hips moving erratically. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Me too..." You cried back.

"Cum with me, bunny. Cum good around my cock like the good little slut you are." Your vision blurred as the first wave of pleasure hit you. After that, many more came, your walls contracting around his cock in a wonderful way.

You felt something warm invade your insides without warning, earning a sigh from your lips. Your hands held his face gently, your eyes meeting his.

He smiled at you before pulling you into a tender kiss, unlike the previous ones that were full of need and lust. He ended the kiss with a few pecks, his hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You were so good, my bunny." He pulled out of you, making you mewl at his absence. He closed your legs gently, not wanting a single drop of his cum to go to waste. "I should have proposed this silly game sooner, shouldn't I? I've had my eye on you for quite some time now."

"Danny..." You murmured, your hand caressing his cheek, soon combing his brown hair with your fingers in devotion.

Why were you feeling so complete?

This guy is a serial killer and yet you had never felt so safe and so... Desired?

"Here, a morning-after pill." He offered you the medicine that was inside the pocket of his tunic. "You're in your fertile period, as far as I remember. We can't risk having a child now, can we?"

"H-How do you know?"

"I know a lot about you, bunny. Unimaginable things."

You shivered.

Why did his obsession in you feel terrifying yet so oddly interesting?

"Get dressed, I'll guide you to the hatch. There was a key in a chest that a survivor left open on the map." He rummaged through the same pocket he had gotten the medicine. "Think fast!" He said before throwing the key in your direction, which you caught easily, looking at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

"Really?" You asked uncertainly. "I thought you were going to get rid of me right after we had sex."

"I made a deal with you, remember? I said that if you cooperated, you would get out of here alive. And besides, I'm not going to get rid of you so soon, not after I marked you as mine."

You got dressed at the same time as his words repeatead in your mind. The mask was back on, but he didn't look as scary as before.

"Come on, the hatch is to the south. Lean on me so you don't put too much strain on your twisted foot."

How thoughtful.

Once there, you used the key to open your way out of that trial.

"Thanks, Danny." You whispered.

"Always, bunny." He squeezed your hand one last time. "See you next time."

[sunny44]

Are you pregnant?

Pairing: Mason Mount x wife!reader

Warnings: sickness, pregnancy test, pregnancy talk.

Summary: When Mason and y/n find out they're pregnant with their baby.

I had been extremely tired these past few days.

I was tired of the job that I used to love because after my boss left and an idiot took his place and he’s a jerk.

The projects he was making us do are getting bigger and the time shorter and I was exhausted and today he just let me go home earlier because I almost threw up on him that was so discussed that send me home.

Mason was in training and I didn't want to disturb him so I went back alone and decided to stop by the pharmacy and see if I could get some sickness medicine because I hate this feeling.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"I've been nauseous for a few days and have been vomiting all morning and I'd like some sickness medicine please." She smiles and I was confused. "Is something wrong?"

"Sorry for this but have you had sex in the last few weeks?"

"Oh, uhm yes I have."

"Have you ever considered the possibility that you might be pregnant?" I widened my eyes and at the same time I felt the nausea once again. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to butt in but your symptoms are the same as a pregnant woman."

I haven’t thought about the possibility of being pregnant but now that she mention it all made sense.

The symptoms, the vomiting and my Kate period that I just realized that was late now.

"Where are the pregnancy tests please?" She gives a half smile and takes one and hands it to me.

"This one is the best one of all. There's a bathroom over there if you want to use it." I agreed and walked to the bathroom.

I took the test but I didn't want to find out the answer in a pharmacy bathroom so I put it in the box and after paying I went back to our house.

As I set foot inside the house I could hear laughter and one of them was Mason's, I felt paws on my legs and looked down to see Milo our Golden Retriever puppy jumping on me.

"Baby? What are you doing home?" He asks and comes over to me and his smile disappears as soon as he sees my face. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I am, don't worry."

"Were you crying?"

"It's nothing, I just have stomachache and you know I don't handle pain very well.” He agrees and kisses my forehead. "I'm going upstairs to take a hot bath and try to get some sleep."

"I'm going to ask Ben and Reece to leave and..."

"No need love, I'm going to sleep anyway so you don't have to send them away."

"Fine, but if there's anything let me know, okay?" I agreed and kissed him as I walked up the stairs and being followed by Milo.

The whole time I was in the hot tub, Milo was lying on the floor there with me and when I went to bed he climbed on the bed and laid his head on my belly.

“Do you think there’s a baby in there?” I asked him that close his eyes when I put my hand on his head. “I think you would like to have a brother or a sister.”

He bark in a low tone and went to sleep.

…

When I woke up it was already 7 o'clock at night so I put on my slippers and went downstairs, the boys were still here as I heard more than one male voice.

"Good night boys."

"Good night Mrs. Mount." Ben jokes and laughs going to hug him.

"Feeling better?" Mase asks and I say just a little. "I made soup."

"Correction, I made soup." Reece says and I laugh.

"Hey, you said you would let me take credit." Mase replies grumpily and they laugh.

"I changed my mind."

"Well thanks for soup Reece." I gave him a kiss on the cheek and started eating and soon I heard my cell phone ring. "Ben can you get it for me please? It's in my purse."

"Yeah, I'll get it." He comes out of the kitchen and takes too long but soon comes back with my phone and a strange face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just took a while to find it." He answers awkwardly.

Time went by, Reece had to leave and it was just the three of us until Mason went upstairs to take a shower and as soon as he got out Ben came to my side.

"I need to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me."

"You're scaring me Ben, is everything ok?"

"Are you pregnant?" He asks, and I widen my eyes. "You are, aren’t you?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Because I saw the test when I went to get your cell phone."

"Did you see the results?"

"No, I didn't. Did you look at the result?" I silently denied. "Do you want me to look along with you?"

"No, you look I’m scared" He agrees takes the test and looks but I can't decipher his expression. "Ben?"

"It says positive here." He looks at me and at the same time I start to cry.

I didn't know what I was feeling, I didn't know if I was happy or sad or even how Mason would feel because we always joked about having a family but never had a serious conversation about it.

"It's going to be okay, you’re gonna be the best mommy ever" He hugs me from the side and I just cry into his shoulder.

"What happened?" Mason runs up to me and hugs me. "Ben what happened?"

"I'm going home and let you guys talk." He kisses my forehead and just smile at Mason.

"What happened? You're crying, is your stomachache again"

"No, I came home earlier because I spent all morning throwing up and I thought it was because of stress with the big projects I need to finish in an impossible amount of time. So I went to the pharmacy to buy some sickness medicine and I came ou that I’m not sick."

"What's wrong with you then?"

"I'm pregnant Mase."

I felt him go rigid on my side, I really hoped he would stay calm about the situation because if not I would freak out too.

"Pregnant? Are you sure?"

"The test is over there." I pointed to where Ben had left the test.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know what to feel."

"Aren't you happy?"

"You know I've always wanted to be a mother but I always thought we'd plan it slow and I'd have time to get used to the fact that I'd be growing a child inside me but it's happening too fast and I'm just not knowing how to handle it." He kneels in front of me and holds my hand.

"Let's make it work okay? We're a team."

"Are you happy?"

"Of course I'm happy my love, there's no one in the world besides you that I wanted to have a family." He cupped my face and cleaned the tears from my eyes with his thumbs. "I love you and our baby so much."

"I love you too."

…

The next day I called my doctor who made an appointment to confirm the pregnancy but according to her from the symptoms I described it was almost a 100% chance that I was.

Today was the day of the appointment and Mason and I were waiting our turn, there were some other women there and one of them had a big belly and a little blonde girl with her. I noticed that the child kept looking at him but Mason was too distracted to notice.

I called out to her with my hand and she smiled and came running over and hugged his legs, who was startled but smiled as soon as he saw the little girl.

"May I?" He asks her mother who agrees and Mase puts her sitting on his leg.

The two of them stood talking until the doctor called and Mason took Mary back to her mother.

"Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Mount, you can lie down over there." He pointed to the Stretcher. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been pretty nauseous but it's gotten better since yesterday."

"Morning sickness is normal in these first months. Do you feel a lot of tiredness, pain in your body, or even sensitive breasts?"

"Yes, I'm very tired even though I don't do much.”

"Have you been feeling anything worrying?

"No, I think that's everything.”

"All right, I'll lift your shirt and pass this gel so we can do an ultrasound." I lifted up my shirt and she put the cold, clear gel on.

The blurry image appeared and after she showed us where the baby was she asked if we wanted to hear the heart and as soon as we said yes the loud sound filled the room and it was at that very moment that we realized how real it was.

Bonus scene!

Y/nmount instagram post

Liked by masonmount, reecejames, benchilwell, sophiaaemelia and others 928382

Y/nmount life lately have been pretty busy but I’ve never been happier 💕 thank you for being here for us, we love you so much @masonmount

@masonmount I love you both very much baby, I’m the lucky one

@sophiaaemelia congratulations mama, you’re so sexy pregnant

@y/nmount you’re the sexy one babes

@masonmount are they really flirting in front of us?

@kaihavertz yes they are and you’re wife is pregnant, I think they’re going to run away and raise your baby together

@sophiaaemelia great ideia babe, let’s do it? @y/nmount

@y/nmount yessss, let’s move to Hawaii

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝘿𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 (𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙮 29: 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙭)★★★

Character: Morticia Addams

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1 @marvels--slut

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): Period sex, eating out (R receiving), cramps,

Genre: Smut

A/n: Morticia definitely has a blood kink I'm sorry-

Word count: 1.2k

...

...

The pain in your abdomen was killing you; the cramps made you feel weak enough that you felt like you could pass out at any moment. You even started to feel incredibly nauseous, so you decided that the best thing to do for now while the pain medicine took effect was go up to your room and lie down for a moment.

"Amor?" You heard the voice of your wife asking you with concern as she saw you stumble into the room, clutching the area where you felt a knife had penetrated through your body.

You smile softly, placing a kiss on Morticia's cheek before sitting down on the king-sized bed, your body comfortably sinking into the plush of the mattress below, allowing your body to relax a little bit.

"Hey Tisha..." You sighed, your eyes hooding a little bit from how exhausted the pain in your uterus had made you feel. "What's up?"

The ravenette stood up swiftly, placing her book on the desk in front of her as she quickly made her way over to you, sitting down and stroking your hair sympathetically.

"I should be asking you that, Preciosa," Morticia replied, a well-manicured hand sliding down to where you were clutching at your stomach, her thumb rubbing circles into the skin as an endeavor to try and soothe you.

"It's nothing, don't worry," You reassured her, moving your palm to overlay the hand that was caressing your abdomen. "I just started my period, and my cramps are much worse than usual," You grumbled, cursing your body for having a uterus.

"Oh, Y/n, you should have said that earlier! You know I would have gotten you everything you needed or wanted," The taller woman cooed, looking at you with worry.

You couldn't help but blush at how kind your wife was being, how it made you feel all fuzzy inside of your body.

"Thanks...but I didn't want to bother you," You mumbled, turning your body over so that you could bury your face in her, her scent comforting you like a gentle hug.

Her scent was overwhelming to your emotions, as they were heightened by the increasing number of hormones in your body, leaving you with some rather lewd thoughts.

You tried to push them away; you could handle your lust for a couple more days, at least until you finally stopped bleeding.

"You know you won't bother me," Morticia chuckled, her eyes looking down at you as she continued caressing your lower stomach. "What medicines have you taken? Do you want me to do anything for you? Or do you just need some time with me?" She asked, propping you up against her body, her arms wrapping around your body before returning to rub circles around where she knew your cramps hurt the most.

You were silent for a couple of moments, debating whether or not to ask her for what you truly wanted.

"I just need some time with you," You lied, looking off to the dresser where you knew she kept her strap-ons and other toys.

Looking down at you with concern, the ravenette followed your eyes to the dresser, seemingly unaware of what you were thinking.

"Are you sure you don't need anything else? I'm happy to provide it to you, Amor," She asked, tilting your head with her hand to lock eyes with her, her eyebrow raising at the sight of how flushed your cheeks had become.

"Can... Can you promise not to be grossed out?" You begged, looking at her with fearful eyes.

"Of course, I'll do whatever you want me to. Besides, you already know my love for the obscure," The taller woman chuckled, a sly smile pulling at her face, leaving you more of a blushing mess.

You remained silent, internally cursing yourself out like a sailor for even bringing it up. But to your surprise, your wife seemed to guess what you wanted just by your sudden lack of speech.

"Why? Do you want me to help you out...in other ways? I know that a good session can help your cramps," Morticia asked softly, sliding her arm to wrap around the waistband of your pants, tugging on them slightly.

"N-No I just... Well... Maybe?" You blushed, covering your face with your hands as you buried yourself deeper down into your wife's body.

Morticia licked her lips seductively, a fat smirk making itself present on her face as she straddled your lap, being careful not to hurt you before kissing you slowly but passionately.

“I’m going to get a towel,” Morticia breathes against your mouth, eyes still closed and body swaying you both ever so slightly. “When I get back,” You watch with wide doe eyes as her lashes flutter open and her gaze starts to appreciate the blush on your cheeks, “I want to see all of you. Is that okay?” She speaks softly, eyebrows lifting and furrowing all at once as she checks for consent.

Her lips were attached to your puffy clit, your eyes rolling back into your head as she began to lick long strides across your sex, your blood falling down her lips and down to her neck.

"Fuck, your blood is so delightful mi amor~" Morticia smirked, looking up at you as your body shook under her tongue, making her chuckle, the vibrations making you squirm even more.

"Please- Need you~!!" You cried, whining at how slow she was being for the sake of your comfort.

"Oh, I know you do," The ravenette teased, her tongue swishing in and out of your hole, the taste of your blood making her feel even more aroused as your moans filled the room.

She had already fucked you clear of any cramps twice since you had started, and you felt like your body couldn't even fathom taking another orgasm. Your hands found their way to her hair, tugging on her black locks slightly as the sensations of her mouth going back to your sensitive bundle of nerves filled every inch of you.

"Please Tisha~!! I need you so badly!!" You continued to mewl, eyes shutting as you felt your muscles tightening while your orgasm came up to you, the knot in your stomach snapping as you felt it washing over you for the third time that night.

Morticia smirked as she felt your used pussy clench down on nothing as your climax took over your body, continuing to lap up both your arousal fluid and blood before swallowing both with a smirk.

"Oh you're so cute like this Amor," The ravenette smirked, watching your body's trembling slow down as it came down from it's high.

"T-Thank you..." You mumbled, a squeak leaving your lips as you felt yourself being picked up by your wife.

"So, why don't I go and run you a bath, and I'll get you some more meds and your favorite foods?" Morticia asked, her smirk softening into a smile as she looked at your beautiful blissed out face.

[dudadragneel]

🖤I was thinking of a lee know/yn fic in which he’s had a lot of work lately and he’s tired and down, so he and yn plan a picnic for the weekend.

it’s all sunny and good weather when the day comes, but inside lee know it’s a whole other story. he wakes up like he didn’t get a single hour of sleep, his stomach is tense and his head hurts. he wakes up earlier than yn so he makes breakfast, but it ends up being a bad idea to eat it and he starts to feel it come right up. it’s random cause he didn’t feel nauseous before, but after the ordeal he definitely is and his stomach isn’t only tense, but also tender now.

when yn wakes up she notices sth wrong but lee know brushes it off as tiredness. she eats her breakfast and they walk to the park with their picnic baskets. good, cause lee know doubted he’d have made it through a car ride.

in the park the sun is bright and it’s hot which messes with lee know quite a bit, but luckily by the time they have to eat a soft breeze has started to blow, calming him down.

they eat their food, but lee know has a hard time and that’s when he may admit he doesn’t feel good, but at this point he’d rather stay in the park, so they do. yn knows that lee know doesn’t like worry, so she doesn’t act too soft about it but obviously cares.

they end up looking at the clouds with lee know laying his head on yn’s legs while she plays with his hair, trying to make loose braids. they unbraid quickly since his hair is short but it’s fine. after a bit he starts feeling better so they film TikToks and decide they want to roll down the hill and see who gets to the bottom faster. childish but fun.

but then everything goes downhill, literally, cause spinning obviously was a bad idea for lee know and now he can really feel his tummy cramping harshly. they go back to their picnic blanket to try to calm him down which doesn’t work, and he starts to feel too hot and suffocated while trying to stop the pain in his stomach, which is making it hard to breathe. it almost makes him tear up cause it’s bad, and when it gets even worse he can’t hold anything back, and I don’t mean only tears…

p.s: I feel like lee know and yn should be kinda similar, so it’d be cool if you could make her have a bit of a teasing and sassy personality like him.

Dear 🖤, I hope you like this one! I tried my best to make them both sassy 😅

A DATE GONE DOWNHILL

Dating an idol wasn't an easy task, first, you needed to mind where you would have your dates so there were no fans or paparazzi around. Second, his hectic schedule made it harder to have actual dates, like dinner, going to the beach, etc, so usually you would meet him at the dorms or your house. And you two had agreed that he'd sleep there whenever he felt like it since being away from the mess and chaos of the dorm could help him relax a bit.

Preparing for a comeback, his last few weeks were totally packed with schedules, he barely rested or ate. He would call you every day to talk about his day and you would listen to every single word he said and you noticed he was sounding more and more tired as the days went by.

When he got a little break, he was exhausted and feeling down, mostly because he couldn't see you and also due to the stress of not getting everything the way he wanted to. He wanted perfection, but that is a hard thing to accomplish.

You couldn't just sit still and watch him like that, he needed a breather so he could relax a bit and replenish his energy for the next round of schedules.

You thought of a picnic and he agreed with the idea. He went to your house so he could get a good night's sleep before the date, he was tired but he wanted to have fun with you.

Morning rose, the day was beautiful and sunny and you were super excited for the date, it was a real one after so many weeks.

However, things weren't looking good for Lee Know, and from the moment he got up, he knew the day would be a tough one. Even after sleeping for 7h to 8h hours straight, he woke completely drained, like didn't sleep at all. He sat on the edge of the bed and assessed his situation, he was tired, his head was hurting and his stomach was acting up.

He liked cooking, especially for you so he went to the kitchen to make breakfast, despite wanting to stay in bed a little longer with hopes that he would feel better.

He made your breakfast, set it on the table, and then made his. He just leaned against the counter and started munching on the light breakfast he made for himself. But after a couple of bites, he started to chew on it and couldn't quite swallow it. He kept on chewing until it turned into mush and forced it down, and it felt gross. He didn't know why that was happening but he soon found out because as soon as he swallowed, he felt it coming back up.

He turned to the sink, opened his mouth, and let out what seemed to be the last bite he had, he quickly turned on the water to wash away that disgusting thing. He was as surprised as he could get because he wasn't feeling nauseous, he thought what he felt when he got up was hunger but now he understood it wasn't. And as if couldn't get worse, he now could say with 100% certainty that he was feeling nauseous and his headache wasn't exactly helping either.

He held himself against the counter, rinsed his mouth, and then took deep breaths to try to calm down. Thankfully he managed to calm down but now his stomach was definitely feeling weird, he had this thought deep in his mind that his stomach would not be accepting food any time soon. Great, what a way to start the day.

After a couple of minutes, you woke up and made your way to the kitchen and saw the image of this handsome boy wearing shorts and a plain white shirt, simple, but the light of the early morning sun shining through the window made him look ethereal.

You walked towards him, wrapping your hands around his waist and kissing him.

- Good morning, Babe.

- Good morning.

He said kissing you as well. When you pulled away from the hug, you immediately noticed his expression wasn't looking too good.

- Are you okay?

You said, looking him in the eyes.

- Yeah. I'm just tired.

- Couldn't sleep well?

- I did but the week's been pretty packed so I'm still tired.

Lies. But he hoped you'd buy that excuse, the last thing he wanted was to worry you and ruin this so-anticipated date.

- Okay then.

- I made you breakfast.

He said, still holding your waist and pointing towards the meal set on the table.

- Thank you, sweetie.

You sat down and started eating your breakfast, Minho sitting in front of you, just admiring and patiently waiting for you to finish.

Once you were done, both of you changed into light comfortable summer clothes and finished setting everything inside the picnic basket.

The park you chose was not too far from your house so you decided to walk there and enjoy the scenery together.

Minho was grateful for your choice because even though he was feeling a little bit better he knew a car ride would have the worst outcome.

The walk to the park consisted of both of you complaining about how hot it was and how it felt like it was burning you alive.

Finally arriving, you two found a nice spot next to the lake and underneath a big tree, which meant you'd have a nice shade for your picnic.

Since you just had breakfast, none of you wanted to eat just yet, and Minho preferred not to eat all. He was feeling better when they left the house, but the walk under the sun and just how hot the park was, had messed with him. His head was hurting and honestly starting to throb, he was feeling a bit lightheaded, and his stomach was acting up.

Shit. Will the date really go wrong? He thought to himself, but he still didn't want to tell you about it, even though you had already picked up.

- While the sun melts us off our bones... Let's chat for a bit.

He said with a tone of sarcasm and a smile that just made you laugh. The way he managed to say such things and then put on a soft, but also almost menacing smile after was amazing.

- Why are you laughing? Am I funny?

- No. It's just the way you said it

- Oh, so I'm not funny? Okay, I'll remember this.

- Oh stop, Babe!

You said laughing and shoving him, earning a cute laugh.

You two talked, while the sun did indeed melt you, but you two made an effort to not talk about work or it would stress both of you, and your goal was to help Lee Know to get his mind off work.

You really wanted to enjoy the picnic, but it was scorching hot, not even the shade was doing much. The extremely high temperature was still doing its number on Minho, his head was throbbing and the sunlight wasn't exactly helping, he was starting to feel nauseous and worried if he'd manage to eat something or even just enjoy the date. When a sharp pain stung his head, he flinched a little and it caught your attention.

- Honey, what is it?

- Nothing, just looked at the sun and my eyes hurt.

- You didn't bring any sunglasses, did you?

- No.

- Here, put these on, and see if they'll help.

- Thanks.

It did help a bit, but everything else was still annoying him, yet he was in his decision to not tell you anything.

After a few more minutes of chatting, it was about lunchtime, so you started to organize the food you had brought.

Fortunately, the sun was hidden by some clouds and a light breeze cooled both of you down and relaxed Minho, who was tense at the thought of having to eat.

- Let's eat!

He had helped you prepare everything the night before, and both of you were good cooks, so it was safe to say the food was delicious. You were really excited to try everything, now Lee knows, not so much. Just the sight of everything and all the smells mixing together circling around him because of the breeze was making him start to feel sick again. He took a deep breath in and grabbed something to eat.

While you were enjoying and savoring every bite of everything, Minho was having a hard time swallowing the tiny bites he was trying to eat. He'd take a bite and chew until it turned into a tasteless paste, which made it even harder to swallow, he almost gagged a few times.

Surprisingly, he managed to eat a few things but they didn't taste as good as he'd wished, the same process of chewing it and trying to swallow repeated, and then his stomach sent him a warning, telling him that was enough food.

He was almost regretting eating at all when his stomach started to feel really full and off, the food obviously not sitting well. The feeling was so annoying he couldn't quite hide it anymore.

- Honey...

He said quietly, fidgeting with his fingers while looking at you, who was still enjoying your meal.

- What is it? Are you done eating?

You asked with a certain tone of surprise, noticing he didn't do as much as he usually did.

- Yes...I don't feel good...

- What is it?

- My stomach...

- Do you wanna go home?

- Not really, between staying at home and here. I'd rather stay, it's cooler here.

- Alright.

He took a few sips of water and hoped it wouldn't mess with his already sensitive stomach and it didn't, thankfully.

Since the sun was still hidden, you two decided to watch the clouds and just try to get rid of all the stress you'd been feeling.

He lay down on your lap and you lower yourself to kiss him, making his heart skip a beat.

- I like that.

He said with a beautiful smile, extending his hand to touch your cheek and tuck your hair behind your ear.

- I love you.

- I love you too, honey.

You reaffirmed, mimicking the gentle gesture. He closed his eyes and focused on the breeze and your presence, trying to relax every fiber in his body and enjoy the moment.

- Babe?

- Hm?

- Can I braid your hair?

- Only if you make me look pretty.

- Don't you trust my skills?

- Your hair styling skills? Nope.

- Minho!

- I'm joking.

He laughed. You proceeded to make tiny braids in his silky hair but they'd get undone as you went on, but he seemed to be enjoying it so you didn't mind.

Your touch and the light breeze that was still around, helped him feel a bit better, not 100% but enough to enjoy the date a bit more.

- Babe, do you wanna film some TikToks?

- Why? As long as it's not a challenge...

Since TikTok got famous, it became a trend to do challenges of every music that came out, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit tired of it.

- It's not. I just wanted to film this moment. We don't get to go on many dates like this, so I wanna make memories and cherish them.

He smiled at you and got up, and then you set the phone so it would record. He stood out his hand and asked:

- Will you grant me this dance?

- Of course.

You said blushing and taking his hand, he pulled you closer to him and kissed you before starting the dance.

You two were so lovey-dovey, that if it were any of the other members with their s/o, Minho would be teasing them non-stop.

When you decided to do other dances and asked him to teach you some moves, he started teasing you, but you wouldn't let it slide.

- Woah, since when you were so bad at dancing?

- What? I'm bad at dancing? Are you sure you're not a bad teacher?

- I'm the best teacher out there, you're just not a good student.

- Of course, I am! Get off your high horse, Mr Lee Minho. I actually learned some of your choreographies by myself, and they were perfect. Admit it, you're not a good teacher.

You said crossing your arms and smiling menacingly at him.

- Alright, touché.

You recorded a few more videos, dancing together and just laughing and enjoying every single second, and then you had an idea.

- Say, why don't we roll downhill, and the last to get to the bottom pays for dinner?

- Deal.

Minho had no idea why he agreed so quickly, knowing that doing that would probably be the last straw, and boy, it was.

You were enjoying this date like a kid and Lee Know wish he could say the same, it was painful to see you so happy while he couldn't share that with you.

- Ready?

- Ready.

- 1, 2, 3 go!

You started the race and as Lee Know was going down, everything inside his stomach was rolling around as well, it was revolted and angry at him, to say the least.

You got to the bottom faster than him and started to celebrate, but then you noticed that something was definitely wrong, Minho wasn't just tired.

When he reached the bottom, he immediately got up so he was kneeling on the grass. He grabbed his middle with one hand while the other helped keep his body steady, his stomach was cramping really badly and its contents were still swirling around.

- Honey? Are you okay?

- No...my stomach is killing me.

- Let's go back up, come on.

- Can you help me?

- Yes.

You went to his side, put one of his arms on your shoulder, and wrapped yours around his waist helping him up and guiding him up. The pain was bad enough for him to walk up while hunched over, arm still holding his stomach.

- Here we are.

You gently helped him sit down and grabbed a water bottle, handing it to him.

- Try to drink slowly.

He tried taking small sips but it wasn't working, his stomach was cramping without giving him any break. And to add to his misery, the sun was out again and it seemed like it was hotter than before.

- It's too hot...

He complained, fanning his shirt, suddenly his clothes felt tighter against his skin, like it was trying to suffocate him. The air around him felt hot and he couldn't breathe properly, so his breathing was erratic and he was almost hyperventilating.

- Honey, I need you to breathe with me.

You were now getting worried about him having heat exhaustion.

- Honey, you have a tank top underneath, right?

- Y-yes-.

He said weakly, trying to regulate his breathing. You knew he wasn't comfortable with being shirtless, especially in public, as you found out early in your relationship, that he only felt comfortable enough with you or the members.

- Then take off your shirt, it'll help you feel less hot.

He took it off and you placed a cool ice pack you had brought, on his nape. But the discomfort was too much, it wasn't only the nausea or the heat but also the pain in his stomach and the fact that he was ruining the date you were so excited about. It was getting so unbearable he started crying silently.

- Minho? What's wrong?

But he didn't answer, he was too focused on breathing through the nausea and the pain, you noticed his distress and grabbed his hand, trying to ground him.

- I'm right here Babe.

He squeezed it so tightly it almost hurt you, but you didn't mind, as long as it could help, even if just a little bit.

But his stomach decided it had enough, it started cramping even worse as if punishing him for stupidly agreeing with rolling down a hill.

When got really quiet, focusing his gaze on the ground, not moving a muscle.

- Minho?

You barely had the chance to ask anything before he gagged one time and turned around so he wouldn't soil the blanket. He coughed up a thick stream of partially digested food and you could see pieces of the lunch he just had.

You placed your hand on his back and started rubbing it up and down, while still holding his hand. He had his eyes squeezed and a painful expression on his face, as another bout of vomit gushed out immediately followed by another that left him out of air.

- That's it, Babe. Just get everything that's bothering you, out.

His stomach cramped again, making him lurch forward, arching his back painfully forcing out another wave of putrid vomit.

He was feeling so embarrassed that you had to see him like this. The fact that he was the second oldest in the group made him build a wall around him, a wall that only you and Chan could walk through.

For a moment his stomach gave him a break, allowing him to breathe and only making him spit out thick saliva from time to time.

Thank God there weren't that many people in the park, you knew he'd be feeling 10x worse if there were people looking at him.

- Here honey, rinse your mouth.

He rinsed his mouth and then took very small sips, afraid that whatever made its way in would immediately make its way out. You wiped his mouth, and his forehead which was dumped with sweat, and helped him sit back for a while and see if the nausea would ease a bit.

- There we go.

- I'm sorry...

- You don't need to apologize honey.

- But I ruined our date and you were so excited about it.

- You didn't ruin anything. We had fun, didn't we?

- Yes but look at the mess I made.

- Honey, I knew you looked off this morning but I didn't say anything out of respect for you. I know you don't like us getting worried about you, so I decided to just wait for you.

- I appreciate it.

- Say, why don't we go home so you can take a shower and rest? It's getting too hot in here and it won't help you.

- Yes, please.

- Alright. Just let me get this organized first.

You packed everything inside the basket and then walked up to Minho.

- Honey, can you stand? Or are you feeling dizzy?

- A bit dizzy...

The heat along with the ordeal of throwing up everything he'd eaten made him feel weak, he just wanted to go home but he was afraid of collapsing and worrying you even more.

- Just...give me a minute...

- Of course.

You sat down beside him, placing the ice pack on his neck again.

- Take deep breaths, babe.

You said as your other hand rested on his chest, trying to provide him as much comfort as you could.

He grabbed your hand and tried breathing along with you. After a few minutes, he felt well enough to try to walk home.

You helped him up and wrapped your arms around him.

- I'm sorry...

- Minho, stop apologizing, please. Let me know if you feel faint or if you wanna throw up again, ok?

- Yeah.

He was completely exhausted, all his energy had been drained from his body and he was still feeling too hot, it was still difficult to breathe properly. He was a professional dancer, he was an idol, he had to dance and sing at the same time and yet, today, this short walk home was making him insanely tired.

His vision was swaying and his stomach was acting up again, the last thing he needed was to vomit in the middle of the street but his body didn't give him much of a choice.

- Honey...I'm gonna be sick

- There's a bench over there, come on.

You guided him to the bench and gave him a plastic bag that was inside the basket. He grabbed the edges and burped a few times before vomiting what felt like his guts, the sound of it hitting the plastic made you grimace a little.

He didn't take a breather before retching again, bringing stomach acid and water.

- Babe, I don't think you have anything left to vomit.

You took the plastic bag and disposed of it, then you gave Minho some water to rinse his mouth again.

You helped him up again and the rest of the walk back home didn't have any more accidents.

Getting home, he went straight to the shower, wanting to get rid of the disgust he was feeling from throwing up.

When he walked out, face a little red because of the sun, you had already gotten the bed ready so he could properly.

He lay down next to you embracing you, eyes still watery and extremely vulnerable, which was a side of him everyone rarely witnessed.

You embraced him back, placed a kiss on the top of his head and didn't say a word, respecting him. Just holding him, and rubbing his back as he cried, you didn't need to say anything, you just needed to be there and you were.

Minho could be mistaken for a cold person, but deep inside he was a warm person who cared for everyone before himself. He could be the second oldest, but he was Chan's precious dongsaeng and your most cherished soulmate.

[tamrielf]

Trigger Warning: Rare Illness/Health Issues [wasn't sure if this need a tw but these topics make some ppl uncomfy so i wanted to be considerate anyway💜]

so a lot of ppl have been asking me why i don't post pics anymore or why i have barely been on social media compared to how i used to be. and the reason is i've been having severe health issues for a very long time. i can't even remember the last time i went more than a month without feeling nauseous, or actually throwing up, or just having headaches and stomach pain that are so bad i can barely tolerate them.

i've known for a while that i have gastritis, but my mom & my bf convinced me to go to a new doctor for a second opinion. after months & months of pure agony and feeling exhausted and sick to the point where i have no energy, i finally know why. i went to a specialist and discovered i have a rare illness called CVS (Cyclic vomiting syndrome). and i also am lactose intolerant which was amplifying my symptoms because i eat dairy products constantly.

i am going to be starting treatment for it and i really hope it improves my life and my ability to function because i am so tired of "living" like this. just existing has been exhausting and painful. i literally haven't been able to accomplish any of the goals i have because i can't go more than a few days without feeling horrible.

i already feel useless because i'm autistic and i have bipolar 1 and i'm waiting on disability payments to come through because i am unable to work with my disabilities. so my bf has been working and doing his best to take care of me and our kids. i just feel so horrible and guilty all the time. and i genuinely didn't know why i feel sick 24/7. all i want is to feel like myself again. and to do all the things i miss doing. i feel like i'm trapped by this illness.

i'm grateful to have answers and know what i'm dealing with finally. but after suffering like this almost every single day for so long its so hard to feel hopeful for the future at this point. i'm literally in tears as i type this. its just been really bad. i never do my makeup anymore or feel good about myself. i can barely move sometimes because the pain in my stomach is so bad or i get pain in my throat from vomiting for hours at a time, and then i get MORE pain from dry heaving due to not being able to hold down any food. and then i get random migraines and headaches that last all day as a result of all of that. its taking a huge toll on my body and my mental health. my depression gets worse during the winter season so when this started getting really bad it just made my mental health a million times worse. its literal hell.

but yeah thats why i haven't been online. real life is hard enough and i haven't been motivated to post because of the hell i'm going through or a lot of the time i physically CAN'T make content. but i'm going to keep trying. i'm going to do every fucking thing my doctors tell me to do because im so fed up with suffering. i promise that i will make content again and post the things i create and other stuff i used to post about before i stopped being able to function. as soon as i start to feel semi normal or at least well enough to do daily activities and complete even small goals, i will post about it. i'll keep u guys updated.

i appreciate every single person who follows me and my content, and all the ppl who keep checking up on me and wondering where the fuck i went. i love you guys so much💜 and i'm so sorry to all the ppl who haven't heard from me. if i can gain at least a little bit of my physical strength and health back, i will be so happy. i also am trying to get vitamins prescribed to me because im severely lacking nutrients but they are so expensive and i can't afford them out of pocket until i get my disability money. i'm also anemic and have to start taking iron supplements again. i'm just a giant ball of health issues😭 its actually ridiculous how bad my health has been. but i'm a mom and for that reason i will never stop trying. i will do whatever it takes to get better. i don't think my health could get much worse than it is currently. hopefully i didn't just jinx myself by saying that😭

sorry for the super long explanation, i just have sooo many messages in my inbox and questions that you guys send me that i haven't answered. i don't want to leave u in the dark. the connections i've made on this silly little blog mean the world to me. and everything i've been going through has been so hard to explain. but since i recently got a REAL answer as to why i'm suffering so much, i felt it was a good time to let you guys know what is going on with me. like i said, when i am able to feel somewhat normal again i will post consistently and re-open my shop too! it sucks so bad having a passion for creating but being too sick to even get out of bed other than to get sick in the bathroom. i've been to the emergency room more times this month than i have in the last 4 years. if i can overcome this awfulness i will not take it for granted. i will work harder than i ever have to create and share it with the world. but for now i just have to sit back and do whatever my doctors tell me to do and hope to god that it helps me 😞

[filth-burps-writing]

Pigs Banquet part one; Arlo’s hangover

The first real section of the pig’s banquet story!!!

Arlo awoke at 12pm and stared at the wall. It was definitely moving. Nausea washed over his body as he remembered what he did last night. Contrary to popular belief Arlo loves beer. But they are roughly three stages to Arlo drinking beer;

1. “Beer makes me burp so good! I’ll just have one!”

2. “Oh my god I feel amazing I’m definitely not stopping.”

3. Passing out.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle his liquor or that he was alcoholic, it was just how beer made him feel . Masculine , powerful and most of all fat. He felt like such a slob when he drank it. But now he was paying the price. “ babe wake up. You got me drunk last night so have to buy me breakfast. Those are the rules.” Arlo shook Mercy. So hot, so cute, so fucking evil. Mercy woke and placed a hand on Arlo’s belly “ of course honey. You did great last night. 20 beers! And your burps were incredible”. Arlo sighed. Instead of putting on his work clothes he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and his “shame hoodie” as much as he loved the fat, disgusting patrons of the restaurant he did not want to oggled today. As he pulled the hoodie past his binder that was still on from the night before he released a wet belch. At least being nauseous came with excellent gas.

In front of Arlo sat his favourite breakfast. Three bacon egg and cheeses, a plate of pancakes with butter, syrup and more bacon, two cups of black coffee and a plate of french toast. Despite the nausea and pounding headache he was famished. Mercy had several plates of sugary pastries, a plate of scrambled eggs and two frappecinos. They both shovelled their food down, burping and farting as they ate. Arlo couldn’t resist glancing at his girlfriend as they ate. Mercy may be reason he was shaking and in pain but she was still sexy and dripping syrup down her breasts. As he finished off his meal he belched, farted and patted his belly. Food was life’s second greatest pleasure and gas the first. Mercy belched herself and started rubbing Arlo’s belly. Before Arlo knew it he playing with her shirt straps. They belched in each others faces and released loud farts into the air. “Did you have to buuurrrrp get me drunk last night” “yes your sooo sexy when you’re drunk. I couldn’t resist” “fine”.

As Arlo stepped into his workplace dizzy and nauseated, he considered the pros and cons of having a sexy girlfriend. Pro; she looks hot. Con; she can convince you to do anything. Even the elastic on his short felt tight on his gut. Admittedly it did make him feel extra fat. God he loved having such a big belly. He slapped it. in appreciation and immediately regretted it as another wave of nausea passed through him. He slipped a hand under his belly to rub it as he walked in. As per usual the first thing of the day was a staff meeting that mostly consisted of Ronald showing off how smelly his farts are. Arlo hoped one day he could have farts like that but it was mostly boring. Then it was helping get the trays of greasy food into the warmers ready for the customers and filling up the dock with plates and silverware. He was grateful today of all days for the “one plate per customer sign”. Then it was time to just stand there until a patron needed something. In a move surprising everyone, Reginald decided to do something nice and bring Arlo a plastic cup of ginger ale. Arlo chugged it, belched in his face and smirked. Reginald commented on how he wished Arlo’s clothes were less baggy, flipped the bird, slapped his ass and left. The rest of the majority of his shift passed in a blur. Drinks, hosting, plates, insults,flirting. Catching glimpses of his sexy girlfriend between tables. A usual shift only slightly marked by his nausea and exhaustion.

Halfway through the dinner rush Arlo felt dizzy and heavy. He walked to the staff bathroom and threw up. He was struggling to breathe and just felt … wrong. His whole body was sticky. He looked at himself in the mirror. God he wished he didn’t have to bind. He did yet another wet belch and went to open the door. But then he thought to himself “ fuck it. I’m wearing a baggy hoodie and they’ll blend in with my fat belly”. Then he pulled his hoodie off, took off his binder and put the hoodie back on. His chest was barely noticeable! He went to his next table much happier and less nauseous.

A few hours later him and Mercy were done clearing up and had just put their tips in with Alfred when he decided to get another ginger ale off Reginald. “He’s been less of an asshole lately” thought Arlo. He went to the bar with the money. “What do you want titties?” Reginald greeted him. Arlo saw red. “The fuck did you just call me?”. “It was just a joke chill. Are are you not smart enough to understand it?” Arlo responded “don’t call me that!”. Reginald smirked and chanted “tit-ties tit-ties tit-ties”. The other guys on staff joined in while Mercy stared helplessly. Arlo wasn’t scared though. He was furious. He wanted revenge. Not just for this. But for everything.

[idontplaytrack]

Can I request super flirty Amber x reader where Amber's flirting with reader but they are oblivious and eventually Amber can't take it anymore and kisses reader

Pretty Girl

Amber Appleton x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, coarse language, kissing

Amber calls reader ‘pretty girl’— always have. But when exactly did that take a turn and become flirting instead of being platonic?

As the thunder roared outside, you were wrapped up under your blanket, comfy— no, sick and exhausted. You had just started your period the night before and have been tormented by the cramps ever since. The pain was so bad, it made you nauseous. You were also, hungry, bloated and craving all sorts of things that you wanted to eat, but at the same time…not really. It was confusing. You hated it, all of this— How terrible you were feeling. So much for a peaceful weekend.

Somehow, you felt yourself dozing off so you snuggled closer to your pillow and hoped you’d fully fall asleep. But hey, of course not. You felt the vomit creeping up your throat before you leaned over the bed and the trashcan, barely making it and letting it spill into the plastic under your mouth. It’s not like you much of anything left in your stomach, but did that stop you from feeling absolutely shitty? No way. Lazily cleaning off your mouth with a tissue you’d grabbed from the box on your nightstand, you stayed on your stomach, and just slept. Tried to, at least.

You woke up after what must’ve been no more than an hour, the rain had started to pour which would typically be the ideal for staying in, getting cosy and just lazing around. But now, you wanted nothing more than to get out of bed and do something with your day. Alas, you could not exactly move. The doorbell rings, making you groan. “It’s pouring out there. Who is it?!” You shrieked, scarily near tears.

The intercom buzzes, “It’s Amber!”

Shit.

You quite literally forced yourself out of bed and walk downstairs, your knees nearly buckled when you first stood up. God, why’d she have to show up now? You got to the door as fast as you could and opened it to let her in.

“Took you awhile.” She says while stepping into the house, “Hi, pretty girl.”

“Sorry.” You muttered, “I’m not—”

“Feeling too well?” She finishes your sentence, “I figured. Wish you would’ve told me.”

You slowly sat down on the couch, groaning, “How’d you know anyway?”

“Honey, I’ve known you, what? Fifteen years now? Give me some credit.”

“So you just figured out I was on my period and decided to show up at my door with…chocolate chip cookies?”

“Yeah, I took a guess.” Amber chuckles, “It’s not that hard to predict it, you know? You always get it around this time of the month.”

“Oh, how nice of you to know that.” You scoffed, leaning forward and burying your face in your hands.

“Did you eat anything?”

You gulped, “Nope, not since dinner last night. Also, I threw that up so please don’t talk about eating.”

Amber sits down beside you, a hand on your head and massaging it, “I’m sorry.” She then guided you to lay on her lap carefully.

You smiled at her a little, it quickly falls though, when you felt another cramp. “Are you sure you don’t want to take something for it?” Amber asks you softly.

“I can, but it’ll just come back up in a few minutes so I’d rather just wait it out.”

You haven’t seen Amber in awhile, honestly. But you knew she had like three part-time jobs that last time you asked her about it. So you figured that was what she was busy with. Oh, and by ‘awhile’, you meant like— at most two weeks. You two haven’t spent much time apart ever. And that’s considering the fact that she has her own little group of friends. You saw them pretty often too, and you knew them but you never really got that close with them even after all this time. But because you were Amber’s best friend, you were always hanging out with them anyway.

Damn, maybe you should really just open your mouth and talk to them more. They were really nice people.

“What’s wrong?” Amber asks, noticing that you’ve gone quiet.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about…stuff.”

“Oh, yeah? What kinda stuff, honey?” She looks down at you, bright smile on her face while her eyes formed into little crescents. Her hand was still stroking your hair.

“Random things…I dunno. Like how I gotta talk to your friends more and stop just floating around.” You hummed, “How I haven’t gotten to hang out with you for like two weeks because you’ve been working so many shifts. God, I hope you’re getting enough rest.”

Amber chuckles, “I’m fine. I quit the third job.”

“You did? When?” You ask, absentmindedly playing with the ring on the fingers of her free hand.

“Uh…” She says, her hand in your hair stops moving. You sulked, and she continues the soothing gesture but not without a tiny little laugh. “Like, three weeks ago?”

“Wow, and what have you been up to lately that I couldn’t get to see you?” You joked.

“Shut up, babe.” She giggles. You gasped dramatically and instantly paid for it when you got attacked by yet another cramp, “Babe? That’s a new one.”

She nearly snorted, laughing. Amber’s brows were raised briefly, “You really are so…”

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not gonna yell at you, when have I ever done that?” She squints.

“Well, my mom just did this morning after I told her my cramps were terrible.” You scoffed.

“Do I look like your Mom to you?” Amber couldn’t help but laugh, “Has the pain somehow jumbled up your brain so bad that you’re just saying anything and everything?”

You didn’t know what to say to that you just kept quiet and snuggled more comfortably against her lap, now laying on your side. “Maybe.”

“That’s okay, pretty girl.” You could hear the smile, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling good.”

————

As you laid sleepily in her lap, Amber’s mind started to wander— seemingly recalling every single time she had hung out with you, analysing each day out, and night in…desperately trying to figure something out.

“You’re so pretty.” Amber says, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Shut up.” You laugh, “I just tried to eat a donut while the wind was blowing in my face. Now I have powdered sugar in my hair.”

“I said what I said.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Ams.” You didn’t think too much into her little compliment— she says stuff like this all the time. Just to make you smile and giggle. “You’re pretty too.”

~~~~~

Walking through a crowded flea market, your eyes checked out each stall closely, not wanting to miss a good buy. Somehow, you feel an arm wrap around your waist. “Be careful. There’s a lot of people around.” It was Amber. Typical Amber being a worrywart.

~~~~~

“Amber?” You say in a hurry once she picked up your call.

“y/n, it’s 1:30 in the morning.” Amber replied, obviously just woken up by you, “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Can we go get ice cream?”

“What?” She could not believe her ears. Amber could not believe that you called her at this hour just for that. But hey, she was so relieved that was all it was. Relieved that you weren’t sick or hurt.

“Can we go get ice cream? Please?” You repeated yourself.

“Okay, pretty girl.” She laughs, “I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

You squealed, “Yay, okay.”

~~~~~~

“Amber, can you help me do my hair? I like when you do it.”

“Okay.”

~~~~~

“Amber, will you please do my makeup? I suck at it.” You groaned.

“Sure, honey.” Amber had her usual smile on her face, “Turn around.”

~~~~~

“Need some help?” Amber asks, watching you struggle to put a necklace on by yourself.

You finally saw her in the reflection and said, “Please.” Handing it to her, she took it from you and pushed your hair in front of one shoulder. Smoothly, she puts the necklace on for you in a matter of seconds.

“There you go.” She smiles, leaning her chin on your shoulder for a beat, her eyes looked at the heart pendant on your necklace then somehow wandered onto your chest. Mentally chiding herself, she gives you a quick hug from behind and then unwrapped her arms, “You ready for your date?”

“Not really.” You admit.

“Aw, you got this, pretty girl.” She gives you a squeeze on the shoulder, “Ben’s really nice.”

“You would know.” You managed a chuckle, “You insisted that you met him first.”

“Of course. He has to be good enough for you.”

~~~~~~

You were at the mall with Amber one Saturday afternoon after having spent the night at her place in the spur of the moment. Actually, that was the last time you saw her before today. So, anyway…because you didn’t have a change of clothes, you were wearing Amber’s clothes. Which was very, very different from your own style.

“Will you stop?” Amber laughs, swinging your hand as she held it, “You look good, okay?”

“Pfft, right.”

“Right.”

~~~~~

Or maybe…the defining moment was right now. Seeing you so pale, so disheveled. Yet, she was completely enamoured by you. She didn’t tell you though. She couldn’t. Because she knew how you’d react. You’d just think she was joking and brush it off. Nothing romantic’s happened between you and Amber, but yet lately, there’s always been the presence of tension from Amber’s point of view.

You on the other hand seemed completely oblivious to her being a little distant for the past two weeks while trying to work through her feelings and piece together what on Earth she wanted to say to you. She could only pray this wasn’t one-sided. Amber loved you too much to mess things up, that was why she said she was busy and didn’t see you for those three weeks. But at the same time, her patience was slowly but surely growing thin. Yet she still couldn’t quite figure out exactly when her calling you ‘pretty girl’ started to have a different effect on her— when she started to get excited to call you that, hoping you’d react the way she wanted you to. But you never did. So she threw in a new nickname, and you were still way too chill about it.

————

Amber didn’t know where that courage came from but…

“y/n?” She said quietly, wanting to get your attention but didn’t want to startle you.

Your eyes came into focus again, meeting her face, “Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you.” She reveals, and before you could even process her declaration, you feel her lips on your own— so soft, and so gentle. So addictive. Fuck.

You’d completely just gave into it, letting her take control as your hand reached up to cup her cheek. It was a bit of an odd position, but you were evidently still in too much pain to move.

“You do?” You tried breaking away for a second to speak but she doesn’t allow it, eagerly reconnecting your lips again. Amber did nod her head, reciprocating with increasingly passionate kisses.

“I fucking love you. I’m not sure when it started, but I am.” She literally speaks into the kiss. And upon hearing that, you could not let her lips go. That was all Amber needed from you. She didn’t even need to hear it— she was too riled up for that now, wanting nothing more than the constant feeling of your lips against hers.

After a mutual breakaway several minutes later, you were breathless and so was she. “So…” She started. “I meant every word I just said. Everything I just did. I want you, y/n, to be my girlfriend.”

“Okay.” You nodded, unknowingly, teary-eyed. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner.”

Amber smiled so widely hearing your response, “It’s okay, pretty girl.” Now in tears, she sniffles and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have you now.”

“You do.” You nodded, mirroring her smile.

“I love you.” She says, her palm pressing lightly on your lower abdomen to give it some warmth and relief. “Does that help?”

You nodded almost too sleepily, “Yeah. Can you keep doing that please?”

“Of course.” Amber agrees, “Close your eyes, get some rest. I’ll wake you up when lunch is done.”

“No, don’t get up.” You slurred.

“I promise I won’t. Not until you’ve fallen asleep. Then, I’ll make us lunch. Okay, pretty girl?”

“Okay, Ams…okay.”

She chuckles over her words hearing how sleepy you were, “Okay. Sleep tight.”

————

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

————

I’m distracting y’all from the fact that the AJ x reader x Capri isn’t even halfway done six days later

Also don’t know how to write a flirty Amber— I’m sorry🥲

[spinchip]

Making Electricity// You Can Feel it in Your Mind

pairings: Gen/no pairings

Wordcount: 2.5k

Authors note: Title from electric feel MGMT lol. I am sick so you know what that means *Inflicts the horrors on my blorbo*

Warnings: Zane is electrocuted. this is what the whole fic is about

Summary: Jay accidentally shocks Zane during a fight.

~

His world is eclipsed by a pain so deep and all consuming that it leaves his body singing after it is done with him.

His vision is a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that move and undulate in a constant flow. It’s a suggestion of the world around him, scrambled and shaken twice before it makes it to the part of his program responsible for interpreting reality. His vision is swarmed by a color- he knows his friends all have a signature color, but there’s a disconnect in his mind and he can’t understand what color he’s looking at. He is aware of the input but the information stalls and fails to process, leaving him clueless to the body at his side. His hearing is muffled and distant, the person is speaking but its formless syllables echo in his head as he tries to decipher it all. It’s overwhelming and he desperately wants to ask them to stop talking- but much like everything else, Zanes connection with his jaw has failed and he can’t vocalize a word.

He’s on his hands and knees- he doesn’t remember stumbling or falling. The amount of concentration it takes to keep his body off the floor is monumental- all his joints feel loose and liquid, like a light breeze could knock him over and scatter the pieces. He doesn’t know which way up or down is, everything swaying and twisting around him- his gyroscope is off kilter. It has to be. His clothes feel painfully tight- the person beside him touches his shoulder and Zane hisses in pain, and when he flinches away it knocks his hands from underneath him and sends him sprawling to the floor. Every one of his artificial nerves is on fire, like their sensitivity has been turned up past 11. Like someone had taken steel wool and scrubbed down each sensor until the wiring was exposed and sparking. He can’t feel his legs- the strangeness of that exacerbated by the fact he could still move them. The blobs of shifting light that he called his vision changed when he thought about moving his legs. He was watching them move. There was no input from the waist down, no data or pressure or spatial awareness to pin down how they were moving. Just that they were.

The air is sharp and chemical, ozone saturating every breath Zane takes.

He’s shaking. He’s breathing. There’s an awareness of the room creeping over the fog of his mind and he has to stop the ice from spreading- energy spits from his core and his chest feels hot and wet, his arms ache down to his fingers.

Something that sounds like it might be his name is called.

He’s on a table- a bed- it’s flat. He’s laying down. He’s so exhausted he can’t bring himself to think for several long moments, not processing any data his body is supplying him with. He drags a trembling hand up from his side and tries to focus on how many fingers he’s holding up. The fractals in his vision have merged and sharped to one point, but now everything is so fuzzy he can’t make out any details. His hand looks- dark. The casing is gone? The back of his hand, down his forearm, all bare- maybe more, but Zane doesn’t have the strength to turn his head. He slumps his hand next to his face instead of taking the effort to place it back at his side. A sound. Attempting to be soothing and soft, but his ears hurt anyway. Even that light, gentle sound input is overloading his processor and causing a sharp pain between his eyes. He feels nauseous.

What happened to the fight? Where was he? He doesn’t remember getting here. There were no memories connecting each moment. Did he black out?

His jaw is still locked. He beeps at the voice instead, a downturned note to show his disapproval of the silence being cut. A light turns on above him and his vision whites out completely, sharp piercing pain that feels like a fire has been lit in his face. He can’t close his eyes. He can’t do anything.

Zane wakes up.

He can see. It’s the first thing he acknowledges when his eyes open- still blurry on the edges, but clear enough he can make out where he is. It’s the garage, the one on the lower levels under the Monastery- in a back room that was tucked away from the rest of the place. There were desks in here, a few work tables for smaller scale projects and a couch that Zane was curled up on. There’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His skin still feels raw, but the blanket is soft and welcome and he tugs it closer. The lights are on and dimmed, just enough so that he can see around the room easily. There’s a glass of water next to him that's only half full, and an apple with a bite taken out of it that Zane puzzles over for too long.

His brain isn’t catching up with him. Thinking is like trudging through quicksand, and he keeps losing the thread he’s following and staring blankly into space before remembering he’s trying to figure out what that water is doing here. It means something, right?

A door clicks, and Zane looks up. Someone is in the room. Dark hair. He closes his eyes and thinks, dragging up all his memories until he finds her inside them.

“Nya.” He concludes. His voice is jittery on the edges, but he can speak now.

Nya nearly jumps out of her skin at his voice. She barely avoids spilling her coffee down her shirt, looking up from her phone that she’d been absorbed in. She sighs in audible relief, “Hey, Zane. How are you feeling?”

He stares at her for a long moment, watching as she approaches him and sits in the chair set up next to the couch. She waits patiently for him to formulate a responde, “...it is hard… to think.” He manages. “...Why…?”

She smiles weakly, “You were struck by lightning, Zane.” She launches into a well-rehearsed and poised description of exactly what type of internal damage he had taken and how the blow had affected his body and delicate electronics. Each word is delivered carefully and confidently.

“This… is not the… the first… time…” He closes his eyes at the effort, grunting unhappily.

“No, this is not the first time I've told you all this.” Sipping her coffee, she shoots him a tight smile, “Hopefully it’ll be the last, though. Can you sit up? If you’re feeling up to it, we can do a few tests and see where you’re at recovery wise.”

He pulls the blanket out from under him, struggling to unwrap himself before he hauls himself up. His right hand is completely exposed, no protective casing at all. The wires are all shiny and brand new. Zane doesn’t dwell on figuring that out. He’s not in his ninja suit anymore- he’s in his pajamas. Did someone else dress him..? Uncomfortable, but understandable and necessary.

As Nya tests his reflexes and asks him to unbutton his shirt to examine his power core, Zane tries his best to organize his thoughts. His upper chest plate is brand new- the pieces around it have strange spider webbing marks, yet to be replaced.

“Lightning…” He makes a sound in the back of his throat that’s supposed to be the word how? But it catches on his tongue and doesn’t come out right.

Nya understands anyway, but she hesitates. Finally, “It was Jay. It was an accident- do you remember the fight?”

The fight. He does remember- but he also doesn’t remember. Strange. The thoughts and memories surrounding the moments before his world turned sideways are disjointed and nebulous, hard to pin down and recall. He doesn’t remember why they were fighting. He had been in the middle of a fight with another man- no, he had just defeated him? He was standing alone, taking a moment to… to… analyze the field… no, he stopped because his head hurt. Didn’t he? The guy he’d defeated had gotten a lucky shot. His jaw had ached, possibly dislocated…? Then the world was a bright white-hot pillar of fire and nothing made sense anymore.

“Is Jay… okay?” The feeling of Nya's hands in his chest makes him shudder, which she nods approvingly at. His sensory input was reacting correctly.

“Er… Physically, he’s fine.” She reassures him, “But mentally… Well, he feels really guilty. He thought… we all thought it was possible he killed you. You would wake up but you wouldn’t retain any memories or information we’d give you. You just kept resetting.”

“How long…?”

“How long have you been out of commission?” She guesses. He nods and she sighs, staring at his core, “Three and a half weeks.”

Zane stares at her, dumbfounded.

“This was not a light blow, Zane. Your internal self repair programming system has really been struggling to deal with all the damage. It was touch and go for longer than I’d like to admit.” Her voice is gentle, “We’ve all been taking turns watching over you in case you wake up. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation.”

“I… do not… feel good.” Zane says plainly, weakly pushing her away from him and ending the examination. She doesn’t fight it, leaning away and giving him space.

She motions to the water and apple, “Those are yours from before. You should eat and drink- I know you don’t need to, but your core took some damage and you're on an energy deficit right now. You need physical fuel.”

He falls asleep before he finishes the apple.

He comes back to consciousness again in the same room, curled up in the same way, tucked in with the same blanket. This time, sitting next to him is Pixal.

“Pixal.” he says plainly. He says it like he’s proving that he remembers her.

She’s on her Borg Data Pad when he speaks, and she politely closes the case and sets it on the desk behind her, “Good morning, Zane. How are you feeling?”

The words make more sense, “I remember.” He tries to tell her firmly, with conviction, but his voice croaks out awkwardly despite his best efforts. “I remember… talking to… to Nya last… night.”

She blinks. Her whole demeanor changes- her shoulder slump in a bone-deep relief, and her eyes close, and she even takes a deep breath in. when she releases it, it trembles. When she opens her eyes again they’re shiny and wet, “You scared me.” She tells him before throwing her arms around him in a hug.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, slumping boneless into her arms.

"We're not out of the woods yet but this- this is a huge step in the right direction." She doesn't squeeze him too tightly and he's grateful.

After another examination, Pixal asks Zane if he's feeling well enough to make a trip up the elevator to see the others. To be honest, Zane wants nothing more than to do that. It’s early morning according to Pixal. He could have breakfast with them. He doesn’t respond right away, thinking. Truly feeling out everything.

His body still aches, his vision is still blurry, and it’s hard to think. He has to sort through the fog to remember anything- but he can walk, and talk, and remember.

“...Yes, I.. I want to.”

She helps him hobble his way over to the elevator and braces him while they head into the monastery. They take a break at the couch so he can gather some energy before making the final stretch to the kitchen. She sits him at the breakfast nook table and starts on pancakes at his request.

He leans back in the chair and involuntarily his eyes close until he’s lightly dozing in his chair, the rising sun warming his metal skin.

“Zane?” Cole asks, jaw dropped at the door.

Zane blinks open his eyes and smiles, “I am… okay… ish.” He says gently, and politely ignores Cole's tears as he brings him in for a quick hug.

Kai comes in next and actually jumps up and down in joy, clapping his hands. Nya is after him, and her sour-puss morning attitude does a heel turn and now she’s absolutely glowing.

When Lloyd comes in, he cries the ugliest out of them all. Zane is weirdly thankful he can’t think too clearly, or else he wouldn’t be able to simply not think about the snot patch Lloyd left on the shoulder of his pajamas. As Lloyd wipes the last of his tears he says, “I'm going to wake up Jay. He’s been sleeping in and I think he’d like to see you the most.”

Accidentally, Zane drifts off again. It feels so nice in the morning sun, and he’s exhausted again. He can’t help it.

A hand touches his gently and Zanes' eyes flutter open.

Jay is sitting next to him, looking like a kicked puppy but sixty times more pathetic and sad. He’s staring at the point of contact between their hands and Zane has to focus really hard to understand why. More of those spider webbing patterns wind down his left hand. The casing on his right had been replaced, but his left was still… still scarred from the blow. This makes Zane feel lightheaded. The injury suddenly feels so real.

“I am so… so sorry.” Jay looks like he’s about to cry. Oh- oh Jay is crying.

Zane doesn’t want Jay to cry, “It is.. Okay.” he reassures him, raising a shaky hand to place on top of Jays, “I will… be… alright. It was… an… an accident, I… I forgive you.” He says, and he means it.

“I was stupid and reckless!” Jay insists, looking at Zane with a pleading expression. Like he wants Zane to be angry- like he thinks he deserves it.

Zane pats his hand, “Eat with me.” He says as Pixal brings them each a plate.

He has to let Cole cut his pancakes up for him- his motor skills are severely lacking. It will take time for the fried pieces of his programming to repair. The next few weeks are hard and frustrating- but his friends are there to help him eat, help him walk through the monastery, even remind him basic facts that his processing fog loses.

There are things he’s lost forever. Memories that don’t exist anymore.

“We could watch the original Starfarer movie? But we’ve all already seen it.” Kai hums as he pokes through the stacks of DVDs they were discussing for movie night.

Zane wracks his brain, “I… have not…” He rephrases, “I do not… remember seeing that one.”

“Aw, lucky! What I wouldn’t give to watch it for the first time again!” Jay laments, not stopping to think before he speaks. He looks absolutely stricken when he realizes what just left his mouth.

The words shock Zane so much by their absurdity that he barks out a startled giggle before following it up with actual laugh, tittering at the sheer wrongness of that whole sentence. Jay is smiling again, and the room feels lighter.

They were there to help him laugh, too.

[echo-bleu]

Hi, for the prompt game, can you write about Míriel for either the prompt ‘dust in the golden light’ or ´The empty space that can’t be breached between you in bed’. And if it’s ok, can you make Míriel have hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, please?

I can’t sew as much as I want because of the pain and Míriel is a comfort character for me in these instances.

This took a while because the prompt grabbed me and ran away, and it grew into so much more 😅 EDS being genetic, I started wondering about who else might have it...

silver

Míriel/Finwë, Celegorm/Oromë, Celebrimbor/Narvi. Three vignettes about chronic pain and learning to accept help. Also on AO3.

1.

Míriel sticks her needle back onto the pin cushion with more force than strictly necessary. She winces and mutters a curse under her breath when it only accentuates the ache in her fingers, and she lies back down on the bed.

She already made that concession, this morning: working from her bed, with a stack of pillows behind her back, rather than using up what little energy she has to sit in her workroom. But it was not enough to lift the fog from her head, nor the throbbing ache from her hands.

She’s not someone who angers easily, but the frustration is – staggering, sometimes. This is her craft. It’s her passion. Embroidery is everything that she is, how she has chosen to define herself – not as a Walker of the Great Journey, or as the Queen of the Noldor, but as the Broideress. And increasingly, more obviously with every year, she is losing it.

She consciously takes a few deep breaths, and lays her hand on the slight swell of her stomach. Pregnancy is making it worse, she knows. She’s been exhausted ever since the begetting, and her pains have taken a sharp edge, where they used to be dull. Maybe once she gives birth, things will get better.

(They won’t.)

She must fall asleep while brooding, because once she wakes, the light outside the window has turned the silver of Telperion. She missed the Mingling, and the better part of the day, and she barely feels any better. It takes her a moment to realize that she was woken by a sound at the door, and she looks up to find Finwë in the doorstep.

He’s changed out of his court robes already, and his head is bare of the crown, his braids half-undone. She’s been struggling to do his hair, too. On bad days like today, even a relatively simple hairstyle takes all the energy she has, leaving none for embroidering. But she won’t give it up for anything.

She smiles tiredly at him.

“Are you hungry, my love?” he asks.

Míriel shakes her head. Pain kills her appetite, as surely as anything. She knows she needs to eat, for the child growing inside her, but she’s too nauseous now to think about it. “Later,” she murmurs. “Come.”

Finwë – her beloved Finwë, still as beautiful as the day she married him – comes to sit down on his side of the bed, not quite close enough to touch her. He reaches out and very carefully brushes her unbound hair from her temple.

He treats her like fine blown glass. The worst is, he’s not wrong to. There are times when the slightest touch can exacerbate her pains like the blow of a hammer. He doesn’t want to hurt her, and she can’t resent him for it.

But she doesn’t know how to ask. How to ask him to put his arms around her and squeeze her tight, not because the pressure helps (it does) but because she wants him to. She wants to feel him. She wants to stop lying in a fog in the dark. She wants to see the beautiful light of the trees in his eyes from up close.

They will have a child, soon. Míriel has seen him – a boy, as dark-haired as his father, as stubborn as her, and yet new and unheard of among the Noldor: brilliant, driven, proud. Full of fire. Fëanáro, he will be. She already loves him more than she can comprehend.

She doesn’t know how she will care for him, when she can barely care for herself, but Finwë will be there. They will be together.

The empty space between them suffocates her.

“Hold me,” she whispers.

Finwë climbs onto the bed.

(Years from now, Returned into the same aching body, she will more clearly see the unravelling threads of their family’s tapestry.

The tragedy was woven into it long before Fëanáro was even born.)

2.

Tyelkormo fumbles with the tinderbox. Checking that his body is still between the firepit and the rest of the Hunt, he tries again, but he can’t seem to get as much as a spark that he could then sing to life. Not that he has much breath left to sing with – they’ve been on the road for too long.

It’s late, past Mingling time, not that it makes much of a difference here. They are so far north that the Trees are just a guiding light in the distance. If they went due east from here, they would end up on the Helcaraxë.

Tyelko’s hands are shaking, despite the furs he’s wearing and the gloves he just removed. His whole body aches. His hip feels like someone tried to tear his leg off. It’s nothing new, but this is his first really long hunt, and before, he’s always managed to heed the warning signs and get back to Tirion before things got this bad.

Finally, he manages to get a single spark, and he hums it into a proper fire. It’s pitiful – the wood is too cold and wet to take properly – but then Tyelko is the only one who needs it, the only elf among the Ainur. The only one who feels the cold.

As soon as the flame is high enough, Huan comes to curl up in front of the fire, his head on Tyelko’s less aching leg, and Tyelko gratefully buries his hands in the hound’s fur.

“Alright there?” asks a voice behind him.

Tyelko twists around and immediately regrets it. His back gives a pop and pain blinds him for a moment. He whines before he can help it.

“Oh dear,” Tilion says. “Something’s wrong, right? That’s not a good elf sound. Lord Oromë!”

He shouts the last out toward the others. Immediately, Oromë is there, in less time that it should have taken him to walk over. Tyelko is still gingerly trying to straighten his back while biting the inside of his cheek to avoid making noises. He’s breathing in short gasps, which just serves to aggravate the pain, but he can’t seem to get enough air.

Oromë crouches beside him, his not-quite-elvish fana glowing softly in the starlight. “What’s wrong, eldanya?”

“Nothing,” Tyelko says through his teeth, though the time for pretence is clearly past. “Moved wrong.” That, at least, is the truth.

Oromë reaches out with a slender hand to cup his chin. “You’re hurting.”

“I’m fine.”

A breeze brushes his mind, but he clamps down hard on his shields – which leaves him breathless again. Huan whines and nuzzles his hand. Tyelko’s teeth are chattering, he realizes dimly, and the fire has almost gone out. He struggles to get air into his lungs, and the air that comes is cold and biting.

Fuck, they’re weeks away from the closest settlement, and he’s not going to be able to stand up come morning. What is he supposed to do? The Ainur don’t understand pain – don’t understand elven bodies at all. They don’t need to eat, or sleep. They’ve been humouring him so far, but he can feel their impatience at times. If he’s to ride with the Hunt, he needs to keep up.

Trust his body to betray him at the worst possible moment.

“What do you need?” Oromë asks in a tone so gentle that Tyelko breaks.

“To lie down,” he murmurs pitifully. “And to get warmer.”

“Build the tent,” Oromë orders Tilion.

Tyelko closes his eyes, almost unconsciously leaning into Oromë’s touch. His hand, glowing a pale white, is slowly radiating warmth, and it blissfully travels down his spine, taking the edge off the pain.

“Come on, eldanya,” is his only warning before an arm slips under his knees and he is lifted off the ground. Tyelko lets out an undignified yelp of surprise as he finds himself suddenly in Oromë’s solid arms.

Huan follows them under the tent. Tyelko is gently deposited onto a bed of furs, and Oromë stays kneeling at his side, his hands slowly warming him up on each side of his ribcage. Huan settles down at his feet.

“You should leave me here,” Tyelko murmurs.

Oromë tilts his chin, his way of indicating surprise. “Do you want me to leave the tent?”

“No, I mean for the hunt. I’m only slowing you down.”

That’s it, that’s the moment Oromë will finally see. See how much of a failure Tyelko is, how little he deserves the attention of one so great. He’ll gather the others and leave Tyelko here to – die, he supposes. Or maybe he’ll take pity on him and delay long enough to deposit him back in Tirion, for Grandfather’s sake, and wash his hands of him.

“It’s too cold for you here, I think,” Oromë says with an uncomprehending frown. “I did not realize. I still have much to learn of the Eldar. We’ll go south once you have slept.”

“You don’t get it,” Tyelko grits out. He pushes Oromë’s hands away, and immediately mourns their warmth. “I can’t even walk. You’ll have to carry me.”

“That’s not a problem,” Oromë says lightly, completely missing the bitterness in his tone. “You are very light.”

Tyelko sighs and closes his eyes, dejected. The pain in his back is slowly easing, but his hip is only screaming louder, and he just wants it all to stop. “You should leave me behind. I’m not fit for any of this. I’m not fit for you.”

Warm – nearly too hot – hands cupping his face make him open his eyes. Oromë’s terribly intense gaze is drilling into his, searching. “Tyelkormo, eldanya, what have I done to make you think that you are not enough for me?”

Tyelko gapes for a moment, lost in the swirling silver eyes he loves so much. Oromë does not breach his mind, but he brushes it again, softly, just making his presence known. Tyelko exhales and drops his shields, bonelessly falling back onto the furs.

“I—” he mutters. “I’m not… Something’s wrong with my body. I can’t be a good hunter. I’m not even a good elf.”

“What is wrong?” Oromë asks.

“I get pains in my joints. Sometimes they move in ways they shouldn’t.” Tyelko considers detailing, talking about the dislocations and the gut pains and the bruises, but Oromë barely knows anything about elven bodies. “Sometimes it hurts too much to walk. Grandfather says that Grandmother had it, too.”

Because he’s still staring into them, Tyelko can see the brief flash of fear in Oromë’s eyes. It’s gone almost as soon as it starts. Tyelko shivers – it’s not like he’s never wondered. Will Míriel’s fate will be his, too? Father says not to worry, but Father is terrifyingly good at ignoring the things that scare him, sometimes.

“Have you seen Estë?” Oromë asks softly.

“She gave me water from Lórellin that helps with the pain a little, but I can’t carry it with me.”

“I can carry it. I will go ask her for more. Is there anything else I can do?”

Tears well up in Tyelko’s eyes, and he’s powerless to fight them. “The warmth,” he whispers. “Feels good.” He guides Oromë’s hand down to his hurting hip, where the heat seeps into his tissues and eases some of the tension. Oromë shifts into a more comfortable position against his side, lying more than kneeling, their bodies presses together.

“Eldanya, you are a good hunter, and I want you in my hunt,” he says. Then, after a breath, “You are good, and I want you.”

Tyelko buries his face in his shoulder.

(Years from now, he will remember this night, and wonder when he left good behind.

His fate is so much worse than Míriel’s, after all, and it’s all of his own making.)

3.

“Got a new one for you, Kibil.”

Celebrimbor looks up from his console, where he’s sitting on one of the rolling stools that were a gift from his colleagues of the Guild. Narvi is standing at the door, holding something metallic in their hand. He sees their gaze go from the neat row of silver ring splints on the console, to the roll of bandages in his hands, to his bare torso and slumped posture.

“Bad day?” they ask without detour.

Celebrimbor shrugs, lets his own gaze travel to his aching hands, and nods. Given that he’s been trying to muster the energy to do his compression bandages and put a shirt on for about an hour, it probably qualifies as a bad day.

Narvi doesn’t live with him, though their relationship is hardly a secret among the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. They come and go, sometimes staying in their own apartment in the eastern quarter. They need their privacy, and Celebrimbor is more than ready to respect that.

Besides, he too often forgoes his own bed for the heat of the forges, and dwarves need to sleep more than elves.

Narvi shuts the door behind them, steps closer to set the object in their hand on the console – it’s another silver splint, a prototype for a design they’ve been working on together – and very gently nudges Celebrimbor toward the bed. Even sitting down, he’s half a head taller than them, but they’re more than stubborn enough to make up the difference. When Celebrimbor makes a token gesture of resistance, they simply kick the rolling stool closer to the bed. “Lie down,” they order. “You’re staying right here today.”

“But—”

“No. Bad days are bad days. Isn’t that what you keep telling me?”

Celebrimbor gamely rolls his eyes, knowing when he’s defeated. He’s worked hard to build a system of mutual aid in the forges and the workshops. Craft masters tend to be fiercely competitive and jealously guard their work, but the very purpose of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain is that they make better things by cooperating, by bringing together diverse crafts and races both. The assistants and apprentices, and even most of the other masters, now smoothly step in to help on the days Narvi’s arthritic hands refuse to hold tools.

“You’re not supposed to turn it back on me,” Celebrimbor says.

“Oh, really?” Narvi gently pushes his shoulders until he’s lying down fully. “So it applies to everyone but you?”

Celebrimbor just smiles. Until Narvi got here, until they became close…

For all its purported equality, he’s still the Lord of Ost-en-Edhil. He built the city, built the guild house and the guild itself – he started it all by himself, because few would work with a Fëanorian. Galadriel was the Lady of Eregion on paper, but she never cared about building. She was only there to judgementally watch over his shoulder and slap his fingers whenever she thought that he sounded too much like his grandfather.

He’s the oldest of the guild masters. Half of them were his apprentices at one point or another, and the other came to the city with little to their name beside their craft. They’re misfits, outcasts, dispossessed – just like he was. Celebrimbor takes care of each of them and learns their habits in the forge, their dreams and aspirations, their pains and heartbreaks. But always he keeps himself at a distance.

He’s learned the hard way not to let people get too close.

His family was never perfect, but they were always supportive. From the moment Celebrimbor started feeling the aches, a scant few years after Maedhros abdicated, they rallied around him to help. It was Celegorm who first showed him how to support his joints with compression bandages. Celegorm who taught him to recognize the right herbs for the painkilling teas, who carved him his first cane from a sturdy oak branch.

Celegorm who stayed in Himlad with them, rather than set out for lands of his own.

Father worked with him on his first splint prototypes. Maedhros always popped his bad shoulder back in without squirming. Maglor taught him songs to calm the inflammations. Caranthir was the first to find dwarves with a similar illness, and learned their lore. Ambarussa were always eager to distract him from the pain with stories and games.

Celebrimbor lost all of that in Nargothrond.

“You take care of everyone,” Narvi says. “But who takes care of you?”

I don’t need anyone, Celebrimbor wants to answer, but he looks down at his bare chest, the slightly inflamed scars from his breast removal that he hasn’t been ointing regularly, his left arm that he can no longer raise past his shoulder for lack of the right stretching exercises, his aching, curled fingers, and he stays silent.

“Guess I’ll have to do the job myself,” Narvi says with a mock-sigh. “Flip over, I’ll massage your shoulder.”

As they straddle his back and knead their knuckles into his sore shoulder, Celebrimbor wonders if that’s what it’s like, to have someone outside of family who truly cares. Someone who is there for the bad days as well as the good, who doesn’t think less of him for them.

He’s been yearning for it for a long time, he realizes.

His city is open and welcoming to all, but maybe it’s time he opens himself up, too. As much as Celebrimbor hates to think of it, Narvi won’t be around forever. But starting with them, maybe, with their help, he can learn to trust others again.

(Years from now, Narvi, aged and nearing the end of their life, will be very proud to see Celebrimbor wholly welcome a newcomer into his life.

They will never see how it ends.)

-

Oromë calls Celegorm "eldanya" (my elf/elda). Since Oromë was the one who found the elves and first named them Eldar, it takes on a few added layers of meaning.

Narvi calls Celebrimbor "Kibil", which means "silver" in Khuzdul. Khuzdul is kept secret by dwarves, but since it's likely a borrowing from Sindarin (celeb), I don't think anyone would mind, plus Celebrimbor may have learned at least some Khuzdul with Aulë.

Also, I do art! This Celebrimbor piece was conceived as a companion to the fic, and you can see what the silver ring splints look like (they're a real thing btw). And this Celegorm sketch prompted his inclusion here.

And my disabled Tolkien characters tag for more.

Reblogs and comments make my day!

[ghostampire]

"Now they definitely won't make a shitty movie."

Tara Carpenter x Amber Freeman

Summary: Amber survives the final and now Tara is going to get answers.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: idk blood death glass hardcore ending I think I died

25th anniversary of the Woodsboro murders. Back to that crazy night that changed this town forever.

A bloody series of murders had come to an end. It only seemed that way at first glance. After all, that's how movies with good endings end, right?

The sounds of sirens and ambulances pierce the air, reporters pull up. It's happening all over again. Sam, Tara, and Mindy, as the surviving trio from the new generation, get proper medical attention. Finally a long-awaited vacation after exhausting games of not only life but death.

The police officers are about to seal the house and get to work, but their attention is drawn to the scream of a man heard from inside the house.

“Stretcher required, we have another survivor!”

Another one. But who? Mindy's firm grip stops the medical worker who was carrying her to the ambulance. Her gaze read hope and fear as her brother was the only one she didn't see among the others. He's Chad-fucking-Meeks-Martin. Would it be any different in this crazy real-life murder franchise? Apparently this time yes, because it's not the tough athlete with the beaming smile who is carried out of the house on a stretcher, but the culprit of their headaches and new scars. Amber Freeman. Second Ghostface. 

At this point, it's as if everyone around the house freezes in anticipation or disbelief, watching the scene unfold, except for Tara. She can't look at her girlfriend, already an ex, of course, but that doesn't save her from conflicting feelings.  From facing reality. The squeezing pain in her ribcage from the realization of betrayal and the relief that it didn't end as horribly as it could have. But... what now? The chaotic thoughts in her head were making her physically nauseous, as was the fantasy of their reunion. Maybe this was just what she needed. Maybe only now would she get her answers from the one who'd treated her so cruelly, though she'd never thought of that earlier. Now she needed the truth. She needed to know who her ex-girlfriend really was.

The younger Carpenter didn't feel as strong now as the older one. Tears were hard to hold back, her lips were starting to hurt.

Not surprisingly, Sam noticed the change in Tara's demeanor, grabbing her hand tighter for support. It was clear without words how hard it was to get through this moment. How hard it would be to get through this night. As if the nightmare wasn't over yet.

It was obvious for sure that for Tara, this nightmare would be forever. In real life and in her dreams. As for Amber? She won't let this nightmare fade away as long as she's alive.

It was a mistake.

Definitely the stupidest and craziest thing the younger Carpenter had ever done in her life. However, this night had long been beyond normal, so it was worth the risk. It was something she wanted to believe in, otherwise it would cost her a broken heart or her life.

Strange to think her heart was still beating for her.

She'd been on such craziness with her girlfriend before, they often got into such messes because Amber wanted more thrills. Tara wanted love.

There's a reason they say that you can't see the monster in your lover.

Not until it was too late.

Tara knew she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, wouldn't be able to be around the people who cared for her right now. She was drawn to the one who had given her the most love and who had left more scars on her body and soul that would never truly heal. She felt like a moth that was mindlessly giving in to its instincts and flying toward the brightest light of its life. That's what Amber was to her. And it was killing her in every way. So yes, it was definitely a crazy idea to sneak into the hospital where the brutal killer was being held.

The small town had its advantages, but it was also a disadvantage. Everyone knew each other, knew secrets and could use them for good as well as evil. Carpenter thought it was only fair to find out everything from Amber here and now and that was what she was able to convince the policeman who was on duty outside the hospital room today. Only fifteen minutes had been allotted, which meant the questions had to be chosen wisely. 

One short breath. One step forward. One question.

“Why?”

Why did she even think she could get through to Amber? Why did she need answers so badly? Why was her girlfriend a fucking murderer when they could live happily together? Why?

The door was only slightly ajar, so that only a tiny bit of light from the corridor penetrated the room. The room itself was dark and shiveringly uncomfortable. Even in that damn house, the closet hadn't been so scary when Amber had tied her up and locked her in, and it had been chaotic after that. Now it felt like the closet had gotten bigger and locked her in with the killer. Maybe her mouth and wrists weren't taped shut, but the girl was restrained by all those feelings inside her.

Fear. Doubt. Sorrow.

Tara stood a couple steps away from the bunk where the brunette lay in bandages, in such a horribly vulnerable state, but alive. It might have all looked like loving people coming to each other for support, but the reality was far worse.

The silence in the room was agonizingly pressing on Carpenter's so unrecovered psyche. Words stuck in her throat, no matter how much she wanted to say. It was like torture. 

Amber remained motionless, as if frozen in place. As if she was the only one in the room who was conscious. She watched her ex-girlfriend's every move. They both knew that now they would have to choose every word, every tone with extreme care. The last night had taken a lot from them, they were on edge and the slightest slip up could end in disaster. Instinct for self-preservation screamed to run right now, but she felt paralyzed. Tara couldn't move after hearing her girlfriend's husky voice.

“Because it's fun.”

As if that was what Amber needed. To open up to someone and just say, "I am who I am." Like she'd been storing that moment in her heart for a long time.

And she saw Tara's gaze lock on one expression as well, her breathing quickened and her heart began to beat faster. She saw herself realize that there would be no more excuses, no more 'I love you'. No more trying to change things. Just the truth.

Amber saw Tara break down in front of her. It was her choice to tell her everything about herself, to tell her feelings. She wanted to be the one to help her, but she couldn't do that right now. All she could give Tara was the truth, which would break her. Just like the words she'd spoken: "Because it's fun." They could sever all ties between people and destroy any hope of any kind of love.

Carpenter realized this, which was why it was hard to hold back the tears that rolled down her cheeks so scaldingly. She had to muster all the strength she had to look the sociopath in the eye.

“Did I even mean anything to you?”

Amber felt her heart skip a beat at that question. A second later, she nodded her head and a slight smirk appeared on her face. She didn't deny that this relationship had given her something, including the realization that she felt what a normal person should feel. But it wasn't love. She hated to admit it, but she felt something from her that she hadn't felt before. A feeling she could call attraction, but as usual, it couldn't last. A sense of control over someone or something, and a feeling she had never felt before - a desire to take someone under her wing. But this feeling wasn't love, and she knew it. She couldn't fake it. It was on the verge of obsession. She knew exactly how their relationship would end, and she actually enjoyed everything that was happening between her and Tara. Amber took pleasure in the girl's feelings, but that pleasure was selfish. And in a way, it was her way of loving, but it was a twisted feeling that she didn't hide.

“I was trying to help you.”

As soon as those words came out of the ruthless killer's mouth, Tara breaks down completely and all the negative feelings overwhelm her at once. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was absurd. It couldn't possibly be true. Tears stop rolling down her cheeks, her gaze becomes hard and filled with burning rage. Her voice trails off into a scream and she takes a step towards the girl.

“Help?! You ruined my life!”

Carpenter didn't have time to think about what she said, but those were exactly the words, the feelings she felt after the betrayal. The lump in her throat again prevented her from saying the rest, but it also prevented her from giving in to her feelings. Biting her lip and glancing over her shoulder at the half-open door, Tara turned back to Amber and took another step so her words wouldn't sound so loud, but now they were soaked with all the pain she'd been through over the past few days. There wasn't much time left to talk.

“You killed people and now you're leaving me alone.”

Amber's face expressed no emotion other than indifference. Her expression remained calm and detached as she watched her lover come closer and closer. Perhaps she liked it when Tara's emotions got out of control, she expected the girl to react that way. Maybe she was waiting for revenge, maybe she was just waiting for her to try to hit her... She couldn't tell. But she knew she deserved it. Did she feel remorse for it? Not at all.

Freeman opened her mouth to say what seemed to be something very important, but she only exhaled and raised her right arm as far as she could. Her movements were restricted because as a criminal she was obviously handcuffed to the bunk. She tilted her head slightly to the side, lowering her gaze. She wanted to believe that Tara would understand her and even after all of this she wouldn't be afraid to touch her. At least one last time.

And that made Tara's breath catch. This was too much. She couldn't see her ex-girlfriend as just a murderer. The problem was, she couldn't love her like before either. It was tearing her heart in two and leaving her with nothing. It was an emptiness so consuming that she wanted to cling to every opportunity just to heal. Just so she wouldn't feel the shards of her broken heart crashing into her soul, and so she took another step. Tentatively at first, with a trembling hand she reached out to Amber, touching her bandaged arm with her fingertips and then placing her palm fully.

It was something Amber had never expected, but had always hoped for. She'd expected many other things from Tara, but not this. She felt the girl's warm hand on hers. It was a wonderful feeling, no matter what. It was as if the girl was trying to show her that there was always room for a little good, no matter how bad or impossible the situation seemed. She liked that. She was even surprised by it. Her fingers closed around the girl's fingers. That little movement was Amber's way of expressing the fact that Tara always had a place in her heart. But...

This wasn't the kind of horror movie that ended with a good ending. At least that's how Amber saw it, especially when her plan went awry. There was definitely nothing left to lose now and she was going to take the one thing that mattered to her with her. She certainly wasn't going to lose to Sam on this one.

Killing people was a lot easier than trying to free one hand from handcuffs by breaking a finger. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it was worth it. She'd done even before her ex had arrived, but almost as soon as night fell.  Slowly sitting down on the bunk, she looked sympathetically at Tara, clearly in pretense, and then took advantage of the moment to grab her by the scruff of the neck and pull her to her, holding the girl with a dead grip as close as she could.

There was only frustration and horror in Tara's eyes. It was as if she realized what was about to happen and was trying to prepare herself for the final blow, the worst possible moment. But there was no fear. She had already experienced far worse, she had already experienced betrayal worse than anything else. Now she was ready for the final moment. To meet her death cuddled against her friend's chest. To die feeling her lover's warm body against hers.

“Sorry, baby.”

Amber's words sounded cold-blooded and cruel, yet so gentle at the same time. Deceptively so. Only the breath Tara felt against her ear was scalding hot, reminding her that this monster was human, that this monster was her girlfriend, and that none of that mattered because the younger Carpenter had lost. 

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Amber's soft lips pressed in a gentle kiss to her princess's neck, but only as a false sense of security, because just seconds later her teeth sank into the girl's flesh, digging in as deep as possible, as painful as possible, until she felt she had not achieved her goal. Tara may have been intended in her script as the final girl, but everything had gone to hell at the last moment in that house and now the script had to be urgently rewritten. No matter how much Carpenter resisted, she couldn't get out of this trap.

Hearing the girl's scream, a policeman immediately rushed into the room with a gun at the ready and another holding a walkie-talkie to his chest for communication. 

It was too late. Tara could barely stay on her feet and gave her last strength to cling to the bunk like a lifeline. Blood hotly began to flow profusely from her neck and her vision slowly began to fade.

This time Ghostface had taken his last girl. Now this was the kind of ending that could be called dignified. Not the one she and Richie had planned for.... But it was even better this way.

Amber's gaze shifted to the cop with a wide grin.

“Now they definitely won't make a shitty movie.”

[kendrene]

For the angst prompts:

number 17 and 23

17. "This can only end one way."

An unexpected sort of peace descends over them in what she supposes are the wee hours of the morning. Above her, the sky is absent light, and the world a wall of solid shadow past the ring of torches they set up around camp, enchanted to burn through the night. Beatrice is hyperaware of it. The silence, obstinate in its heaviness, reminiscent of the dusty quiet of a tomb. Were their circumstances any less dire she would welcome the calm, the comfort of Shar’s presence all around them. As things are, it is the restlessness that does her head in; not that of her body, exhausted beyond the possibility of sleep. That of her mind.

The tadpole nestled somewhere near the sphenoid digs deeper, and pain steals both vision and breath away from her. Beatrice sits up. A wave of bile surges up the back of her throat; acidic tides reducing her scream to the wet gurgle of a woman in the last stages of her drowning. After a moment measured in decades the pain recedes. The tadpole slows its burrowing, and Beatrice can breathe in. The freezing touch of the night’s chill against the lining of her lungs is a welcome reminder that she’s still here. Still alive. Still herself.

“Can’t sleep either, uh?”

The first syllable of a cantrip blisters her tongue before she recognizes Camila, knelt by her bedding, a hand stilled mid-air as though she’d been about to shake her awake.

“I’m fine.” Beatrice says by rote and habit. The lie when she knows she’s anything but fine – the unhealed wound on her hand beating out the same song that drums at her temple – is the only way she can still feel in control.

“Sure.” Camila’s weight shifts from toe to heel as she settles in. She acts like they’re old friends who do this every night. Sit after the fire's been doused, gossip, trade secrets in the dark. “You’re totally fine. We all are.” Red burns deep in the centre of her pupils, and it is Beatrice’s gaze that slinks away first. “Ava said to wake her up if you’re in pain.”

“She told you to do that?”

“No.” Camila grins and a fang sticks out, momentarily caught by the meat of her lower lip. “I overheard her when she said you could. So. You should take her up on that.”

“I said I’m fine.” Pain radiates all along her forearm and, on the back of her hand, bluish-black veins writhe under taut skin trapped in the agony of it.

“Right.” Camila stretches, yawns. Her grin bears the sharp edge of a paring knife. “Like I can’t smell it on you.”

Beatrice opens her mouth. Closes it hard enough to make herself wince. She forgets sometimes what Camila is, perhaps because she is so damn good at hiding it. Part of her is tempted to ask about the other things Cam might be able to smell in her blood. She doesn’t, though. Chances are she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Alright.” She concedes, sticking her hand under the blanket still half-covering her as another spasm threatens to lock her fingers into claws. “Maybe I’m not fine. But I’m not waking her up. She deserves rest.”

“So do you.”

“I can heal myself if I need.” Beatrice counters, setting her jaw.

“Except that you’re too tired to.”

Cam’s right, Beatrice knows. The unfulfilled cantrip left her lightheaded. Nauseous. Any number of horrors could emerge scrreching from the cursed lands around them right this second, and Beatrice would be powerless to stop them.

“I’m not waking her.” She repeats more to herself than for Camila’s benefit. She wants to. Wants for Ava’s touch, for Ava’s sword-calloused hands to cradle hers and hold it like she’s been entrusted with the most sacred of tasks, the most holy of relics. But she can’t have it, can’t have Ava and the pain is all too quick to remind her of it.

“But she could-”

“In the morning.” Beatrice cuts her off before Camila can launch herself into a ten-point explanation on exactly how and why she’s being an idiot. “I promise that if I’m still in pain in the morning, I’ll ask Ava for healing.” They both know she won’t, but Camila nods once, finally willing to let the matter go.

Ava’s healing magic is not too far removed from her own. In fact, they’re based on the same principles. And Beatrice has been healed by others in many instances before - more times than she cares to count against her will.

What’s different with Ava is how the process makes her feel. The force of Ava’s faith - not in some god, but in her friends and the fine libe between what's right and wrong - threaded through the magic, warmth equal to that of a thousand suns alighting Beatrice's skin. Ava’s stubborn love for life and all that's held within as the inexhaustible engine behind it. Her “may I?” always before Ava reaches out to touch her, asking permission even in the middle of a fight, if only with her eyes. And Beatrice’s own reply: yes, always, the scariest thing of all because if Ava asked what else would Beatrice answer yes to?

She shakes her head. Thankfully, Camila’s not looking. There is only one way this will end, one shadowed path left for her to walk. She can’t ask Ava to follow.

(She doesn't know yet, as she'd never even dare hope for it, but Ava would follow her anywhere.)

[galaxywhump]

if wren started begging for something during a torture session (a small break bc he feels like he's gonna be sick, or some water) would daniel grant that to him? or would it be situationally dependent?

I know you were probably expecting a straightforward answer, but your ask made a WIP happen, so here it is.

[SV-240 masterlist]

contents: forced relationship whump, slavery whump, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, illness, non-graphic emeto, torture, knives, stress position, blindfold, creepy comfort.

~~~

Wren woke up feeling terrible.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary for him, but that morning he felt terrible in a different way. He felt ill; weak and slightly dizzy, shivering despite it not being cold in the house. He didn’t tell Daniel, even though he wanted nothing more than to be given medication, hot tea, and some peace and quiet. No, telling Daniel would also mean him being overly caring and doting, which was the last thing Wren wanted to deal with.

So he didn’t say anything, and then he learned that Daniel was in the mood for some handiwork with his favorite knife.

Shit.

He still didn’t say a word when Daniel closed handcuffs on his wrists and attached them to a chain connected to a hook in the ceiling, forcing him to keep his arms outstretched and stand on his tiptoes. He didn’t say a word when Daniel put a blindfold on his eyes and earplugs in his ears. He just shuddered and gritted his teeth when the knife pierced his arm and was dragged downwards.

Just get through this, he thinks to himself while Daniel makes small, precise cuts around his shoulder blades in a pattern that only makes sense to him and his artistic vision. It’s not the first time.

But it’s the first time when he feels this awful during torture, and the position he’s in doesn’t help. His body is under so much strain, stretched out uncomfortably, he can barely stay upright, his arms hurt, his head hurts, everything hurts, and Daniel’s only adding more pain. He still feels dizzy despite the darkness - or maybe because of it - his face is covered in cold sweat, he starts feeling slightly nauseous. The blindfold is soaked with tears of frustration, he can hear his heartbeat way too clearly, it’s the only sound he hears, he feels horrible, he wants out, he wants this to end, he can’t handle this after all, but that means…

“Stop,” he mumbles weakly, shaking his head and whining when the pain from the cuts seems to intensify now that he’s not fully preoccupied with his illness. Talking with the earplugs in is an unpleasant, almost surreal experience, and he can only hope he’s actually saying something, that his voice isn't too weak. "Please stop."

But this is Daniel, so Wren can imagine him laughing at his begging, making a stupid comment promising that this will be over soon, sweetheart, but this isn't about that. He whimpers when the knife cuts into his back again.

"I'm serious, stop, I-I think I'm gonna be sick, I just need a break."

The knife disappears, and Wren swallows desperately, struggling to take a deep breath.

He flinches when he feels Daniel grip his arm - thankfully an undamaged part of it - and a moment later his wrists are released. Daniel catches him before he can collapse, unable to stay upright after the punishing position.

The earplugs are removed, and the blindfold follows. Wren winces and blinks, and when his eyes get used to something other than darkness, he sees Daniel's face, with worry written all over it.

"Are you still feeling sick?" he asks, and Wren nods.

Daniel wraps Wren's arm around himself to support him and leads him to the bathroom, where the nausea gets overwhelming. Daniel holds his hair back for him, not saying a word for now.

Wren closes his eyes, exhausted, and fuck does everything hurt, but mostly his arms and back now that he's moving again. He's trembling, getting up feels like an impossible task, and he's still crying, from pain and from his awful state, and he's not even mad at himself for it.

"Better now?"

"I think so," he mutters. Daniel lets go of his hair.

"I'll get you some water."

Wren nods, keeping his eyes closed, not daring to move an inch for fear of his body igniting with pain again and the room spinning.

Anxiety creeps up on him; nothing like this has ever happened before, and he doesn’t know what to expect from Daniel.

He comes back and hands Wren a glass of water, then sits down next to him, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I think I'm sick." Wren stares down at the water, every breath causing his fresh wounds to shift and hurt even more. "I feel like shit, and… you just saw for yourself, I guess." He sighs. “So just get the session over with before it gets worse.”

Daniel firmly shakes his head, frowning.

“No. You need to rest. I’ll take care of your wounds and then you can lie down.” He pets Wren’s hair. “We can continue some other time.”

Wren huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You do realize how fucked up that sounds, right?”

Daniel just chuckles in response. He does know. It changes nothing.

The knife will return in a few days, and yet Wren can’t help but be relieved as Daniel cleans and dresses his wounds, then gives him a shirt and carries him to the living room.

“I can carry you to the bedroom, if you’d like. Unless you prefer the couch.”

“Couch,” Wren mutters. The bed is more comfortable and the bedroom would offer more peace and quiet, provided Daniel leaves him alone, but he wants to stay out of there as much as he can, and the couch is too small for Daniel to lie down next to him.

As much as he hates the couch, he can’t deny that it’s comfortable, and in his exhaustion he practically melts into it. Daniel even brings him a blanket, which Wren curls up under, pulling it up to his neck.

“I’ll bring you some pills,” Daniel says, pressing his palm to Wren’s forehead; he clicks his tongue when he confirms that it’s unnaturally warm, and brushes Wren’s hair away from his face, making him wince. “Do you need anything else, sweetheart?”

“Rest,” Wren sighs, struggling to keep his eyes open. Now that he’s stopped ignoring it, his illness has decided to hit him with everything it’s got.

“Okay. I’ll fetch the pills and you can sleep after you’ve taken them, alright? Try to stay awake.”

“Mhm.”

Daniel leaves, and Wren wraps the blanket tighter around himself, blinking slowly, trying to fight his exhaustion off for a bit longer. Daniel is just as doting as he’d feared he would be, but… aside from his usual sweethearting it feels good to be taken care of, and to be listened to. The wounds still sting, a reminder of the torture he’d gone through and will go through again soon, but he can’t bring himself to care. He waits for his captor and torturer to come back with the medicine, and he has to remind himself not to thank him for this bare minimum of kindness, more than most of what he’s gotten throughout his life.

He wishes it wasn’t like this, moments of kindness and loving care juxtaposed with pain and tears and coercion; he knows how much Daniel enjoys doing this, being the sole source of both suffering and comfort.

He’s aware of so many mechanisms of his captivity, yet he’s powerless to fight them, forced to accept them, and all he can hope for is that all these processes won’t shape him into something else, whatever Daniel, whose smile is unnervingly genuine and fond when he enters the living room, wants him to be.

“Sleep well, sweetheart," Daniel says softly once Wren's washed the pills down with water. "I hope you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“So you can torture me more?” Wren mutters, closing his eyes. 

Daniel’s lighthearted laughter keeps ringing in his ears long after he's fallen asleep.

~~~

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @funky-little-glitter-bomb @goneuntil @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @renkocchi @whump-only @muddy-swamp-bitch @girlwithacoolcat @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @sophierose002 @whump-headspace @to-whump-or-not-to-whump @kixngiggles @ohwhumpydays @whumpvp @wibbly-wobbly-whump @stab-the-son-of-a @his-unspoken-words @pumpkin-spice-whump @onlyhappywhenitpains @suspicious-whumping-egg @morning-star-whump @burtlederp @there-will-always-be-blood

[elitadream]

Okay, counterpoint to the whole "Bowser would neglect basic human necessities while in Mario's body" idea: he tries to do that for like two-three days and then is just on the verge of collapse until he passes out in the middle of plotting something. No need to assemble an army to stop him - he just passed out in the castle foyer.

I mean. Picture this. He sits down at a desk after running around all day and not sleeping the night before and skipping breakfast, getting a headache from dehydration and feeling nauseous from hunger and probably nodding off, and he's just - *ignoring* all that? Nah, whether or not he wants to slow down, he's gonna have to take breaks or he'll suffer.

Though it could be oddly comical if Bowser doesn't actually need to eat/drink/sleep all that often and so he's legitimately just going about his business like normal, wondering why everything seems so much harder to do than normal. "I only need to eat twice a month - why am I hungry? How often do humans eat? Wait - three times a day?!"

...okay I'm just rambling now. I like seeing your posts about this AU. It's a cool idea, and I love your artwork!

Right! 😆 It would only be fair to assume that things such as a lack of food and sleep aren't felt the same way in a different body (especially if we imagine Bowser as normally being extremely resistant that way), and so him accidentally sabotaging himself by essentially starving and exhausting his vessel to abject degrees could very well happen in this concept!

Something that I think could really make this work, and which I've thought about thanks to both @mrspockify and @kymbird's inquiries, is the idea that Bowser wouldn't feel anything while in Mario's body. 👀 No fatigue, no hunger, no pain. Like putting on a costume, or piloting a vehicle using a remote control. He would hardly notice those signs, and less even care because it wouldn't directly affect him.

The only one who it would gravely affect is Mario once he would finally get his body back. 😣

[alastryona]

I spend a lot of time thinking of scenarios because it's fun to imagine my little guys in Situations. But I accidentally found one that finally broke me and by broke me I mean made me Actually Write Something.

Anyway here's 2000 words of oc story that will make less sense to anyone that's not the two people in my discord group chat who receive most of my nonsense. (Specifically @monasticmaestoso who is my biggest enabler and ended up making me write again after like 10 years of not doing that with her wise words "gotdamn")

----------------------------------------

Darkness. Static. The smell of blood. Metal clanged loudly as the scene around came into focus. She tried to take in the surrounding room, interrupted by another swing of a heavy weapon and tile crashing as she dodged. A battle? There had been fighting in other memories, yet this felt different. Her body moved again, swinging on her attacker and sending him skidding across the floor. He was so familiar, through his face seemed obscured in fog. It was always there, like something was stopping her from recalling the faces of anyone from that time. Her body again, stepping towards a girl lying on the ground. She looks exhausted. Again gripped her weapon. It was always an awful feeling, feeling trapped in a form she couldn't control just to watch the events long concluded. Like being controlled by invisible strings 

“You should have gotten in the ark.” Her voice rang out clearly and she could feel a smile spread across her face.

The boy struggled to sit up and face her. “Stop it… Runa…” He sounded strained and his words cracked just a little. 

“Hate me, █̵̯̙̠̫̲̇̋̾̎́̄̽█̵̭̘̩̤̼̜̼̓̀͝͠█̵̩͖̞̏̏̚͜͝█̶̞͕̙̰͚̿́͆̚͠ͅ█̸͕̹̬̦̽̃́̉̓█̶̞̮̪͓̠͆̓͋͝͝█̷̧̗͉̪̈́̃͑̚ͅ . That will only sustain us.” 

She raised the strange blade again, centering it with the girls back. She too was familiar, face shrouded in the same fog as always. 

“STOOOP!!!” He cried out as she began to swing down. Light filled her vision and searing pain rushed through her body.

Runa snapped awake, shaking from the memory that she wished had just been a dream. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so clear, she could forget and say it wasn't even real. She clutched her chest, it felt so heavy with each new fragment of her heart that was found. But this time it ached and her head swam with thoughts. What was I doing? Weren’t they friends of mine? Why were we fighting? Her thoughts quickened as the realization began to set in. I attacked them, didn't I? I wanted to… hurt them. Her words surfaced again. “Hate me. It sustains us.” Just what kind of person was she? What kind of monster?

The room around her was lit by moonlight streaming through the window and the silence of the night made her shaking breath all the louder in her ears. She stumbled out of bed and towards the door. This place had been her home, here with those that had found her when she'd awoke as all but an empty husk who could only remember her own name. Who'd taken her in and cared for her and treated her like family from the start. The smell of blood filled her mind again. If she had hurt those she called friends so easily… She held her stomach, the thought making her feel nauseous. The room was spinning, her heart pounding out of her chest. Trembling hands opened the door and guided her through the dark house.

I can't be here. I shouldn't. I'll just hurt them too.

Her vision blurred, her ears rang, she couldn't breathe, but she couldn't stay, and she didn't notice another door open as she stepped outside and started to run.

It wouldn't matter where she went as long as they would be safe. And they would be OK without someone like her around to betray them. Road turned to grass, then leaf litter under her feet. Trees streaked past her vision. Everything would have been better if she had never been found. If she had been left to rot in an endless sleep without the burden of memories or this heavy heart.

She rushed through the overgrown clearing, nearly tripping on an upturned root. The twins used to play here, when they were younger. Sometimes Rel would come out just to enjoy the quiet. Runa didn't stop moving, couldn’t bear the thought of tainting this little sanctuary too. She pushed through the trees as they grew denser. I never should have been there to begin with. The distant sound of rushing water grew closer. I hope they can forgive me… She pushed the thought away. If they knew what she really was… they wouldn't blame you. Of course they wouldn't, they're too good. You never deserved it anyway. None of their kindness. All wasted on someone with their dear friend’s blood on her hands.

Finally leaves made way for the clear sky above as Runa came to a stop at the little waterfall overlooking more forest below. Nowhere left to run from here. She was too tired to keep going anyway, and she fell to her knees as the panicked breath turned to tears. She hurt her friends, couldn't even remember their faces. Just the pain in their voices. And it's my own fault. I did it to them. 

She sat hugging her knees against her chest. Her tears had dried on her face and her eyes stung a little as she stared off into the sky. Sparse clouds passed over the moon, she wasn't sure how long it'd been. Not that it mattered. Her actions continued to repeat in her head. “Hate me… you really should. It's only fair. I can't even be bothered to know your name after all this time.” She said quietly.

“And who's that? Those lost friends of yours?” The voice made her jump, she had been so distracted she didn't even hear anyone approach. Standing a bit behind her was Baldr, looking out past her into the night. “How did you-”

“Always was a bit of a light sleeper. And you forgot these.” He laid a pair of boots next to her and took a seat on a rock close by, resting his hands on a walking stick. “Awful idea running all the way out here like that.”

Runa looked back down. He was right. She hadn't even noticed how cut up her feet had gotten. It hurts. You deserve it. 

“I used to come out here too. Ed called it the brooding cliff. He wasn't entirely wrong.” He continued. “New memory that bad?”

Runa held her legs a little tighter. “I… can’t go back. I shouldn’t.”

“And why is that?”

She took a deep breath and slowly began to recount this newest memory. “We were… fighting. My friends and I. Or, I was fighting them. They looked so hurt and- and I struck them down. I said… that they should hate me. And I-” She covered her mouth and held her forehead as she saw it all over again. Her own hands raised, ready to strike. “Oh god I think I was going to k- I think I k-” the words got caught in her throat as her heart began racing again.

“But how did it begin again?” Baldr interrupted. 

“Huh?”

“You were fighting? How’d that start?”

“I… I dont know.” She hadn’t gotten that part, she was realizing. How did it come to that? And-

“And how did it end again, the very last thing?“

Runa closed her eyes. “He… he yelled for me to stop. Then everything went white.” She clutched her chest again. “And there was this pain…”

He furrowed his brow. “Right where that scar is?”

Her eyes snapped open again. The scar. She hadn’t even thought about it lately. “Yeah…”

They were silent for a moment. Wind rustled through the leaves behind them. “It sounds like you still don’t know how you’d gotten there.”

“Does it matter?” she sighed. “The things I did there… That I said…”

“What were you thinking at the time?”

“Thinking? I was-” she didn’t know that either. Her mind was flooded with sounds and feelings, she felt trapped in the horrible scene. But what was she feeling? The Runa long gone? “I dont know.”

“It sounds like you’re passing an awful lot of judgment on someone without knowing nearly enough of the story.”

He’s right. “But still I-”

“Hurt people you loved?” he interrupted again. He let out a light chuckle, which startled her. “Sorry, it’s just. We have much more in common than you know.”

She turned her head too look at him, confused. 

“You don’t know how I came to this world, right? About my life before then?”

“No, mo- Hoder said it was too painful to bring up.”

“She’s right. Never liked talking about it much. Y’see, when I was young- probably about the same age you were when we found you, I lost my sister. She was killed in front of me. I felt powerless, that I was responsible. And that darkness festered in me until it broke me, became me. I felt I might as well take the world down with me.” 

Runa thought about herself back then. It was only ever a guess but they said she was probably fourteen or fifteen at the time. “Then you, you were just a kid. Did nobody try breaking you out of that state?”

“Not in time. I still blame him a little for it. For what I became. The darkness of my sorrow, my anger consumed me. And I took it out on my friends, my classmates. Until there were only two. They’re the ones who stopped me. Stopped the monster I had become.”

“You’re not-”

“Oh I was. Literally. Things start to blur the further it went but I remember that thing clear as day, a monster born from my pain. Those two defeated it-” he paused a moment.

“Then what?” she asked.

“I don’t remember. Past that the blur is too strong for me to know. But I think I died that day. Maybe I had been the whole time. After that, I found myself here. By then my head was clear again, and the feeling of what I had done could have drowned me. But it didn’t, and it’s thanks to the people who drug me out of the pit I found myself in.” He absently touched a ring on his left hand as he spoke. “Once the anger was gone I would have rotted away in the sadness and guilt that was left. But they didn’t let me. He sure didn’t. Even after I told him. ‘Then carry that burden with you and live.’ he told me. And he was right of course. And I do. I wound up here after all, who’s to say nobody else found the same miracle.”

Maybe they did too… It was a comforting thought.

“That’s why we named her Hoder, you know. After my sister. I wanted to make sure nobody after me would fall like I did, have all that pain all alone. It was Edward’s idea. That she’d be proof of her memory, and a reminder I would never lose sight of.”

“That’s… really nice.”

“In any case, I can’t say we did the worst job. Her and your siblings are pretty good proof of that.”

My siblings… They are, aren’t they. She often forgot just how much they thought of her that way. She felt it too, even if she tried to shut it away sometimes. 

“You too, in some ways, even if we can only claim a few years of you. Although whoever you were before has a lot of the thanks in that. And whoever was responsible for her. And you know what else? Her story isn’t over. Your’s isn’t. So go on and find the rest of it before you decide you don’t belong somewhere, alright?”

Find the rest of it… Runa held her hand to her chest again. She knew her heart was shattered, and the pieces they’d been finding were the key to her lost memory. She didn’t know how that fight began. Or how it ended. She hurt her friends but didn’t know why. And thats… “Ok. I think that’s ok.” She muttered. Find the pieces first. How did that person feel back then? Did it hurt as much as it does now? 

The stars faded slowly as the sky began to change, the light of the morning sun reflecting gold off the clouds. Baldr yawned and slowly stood up. “It’s gotten late. Early? Well, we should head home before they notice and send out a search party.” Runa smiled and tied up her boots. He helped her to her feet, and they made their way back to the house where everyone was waiting. The sun peeked over the horizon, and her chest felt just little lighter. I’ll find you. I promise.

((Some additional context that's important here: Baldr is the same one from KHDR. I got a little too attached to him and ended up crackshipping a postcanon version of him with Edward from ff4 bc of a song i liked, and got a little too attached to that. This was before the finale came out, and I had to adjust my lore a little to make All That work. But I'm in too deep now because I ended up grandpaifying him and connecting him to my other ocs by way of Hoder, his and Ed's daughter and their mother.

Tldr, i blorbified too close to the sun now Baldr khdr is a grandfather and this is for an audience of like 3 people max. Feel free to ask if you get this far and have any questions though! It might not always be coherent but i love blabbing about the gay little people in my brain.))

[sickficideas]

SO I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THAT KUNIKIDA HAS IBS?? 😭

I mean, this man is always so stressed and nervous, I imagine him coming back home after a long work day and curling up in bed and clutching his stomach because it feels so sore and nauseous... I WANT TO COMFORT HIM SO BAD.

ANON...ANON...!!!! I know this wasn't technically a request but you are such a genius I wrote a fic about this so fast LMAO I hope you like it <3

cast a spell || kunizai sickfic

ao3! emeto fic, mild nsfw themes at the end - please refer to this link for additional tags!

Kunikida really should have gone home early today. His stomach is not cutting him any slack.

He doesn't have the energy to change. All he can really manage is taking off his shoes and belt before he crawls into his bed. It's unlike him. He has a routine when he gets home. Light cleaning, checking the stock in his fridge, and various other things that his schedule details, but his body won't allow him to tonight. Any more time on his feet will have him hunched over the toilet again in no time.

His stomach has been sick since lunch. He isn't sure exactly what set it off today. He didn't try anything new. He was hoping it was a usual stress ache. He gets those so often that he's able to brush them off easily and keep working, but only about an hour before he left the agency, he found himself curled up beside the toilet in the bathroom and bringing up his still-digesting lunch, miserable and cradling his bloated and twisting tummy.

He's still sore and achy. He was in there for about a half over gagging and retching, long enough to get looks and questions when he walked back out into the office. He had to brush it off and pretend he felt better, but he didn't.

He groans quietly and he curls tighter on himself, arms wrapped around his middle. He thinks he should be used to this by now, but he isn't. It hurts, he's sore, he feels nauseous, he's almost certain he's going to throw up again tonight, and all he can do is be miserable about it until it happens.

Just as he's starting to let his exhaustion take over enough to relax, he hears his front door open, and footsteps start in the direction of his bedroom.

"Ugh…Dazai…?" he groans. He doesn't need to see or hear him. He knows those footsteps.

"The one and only," he sings, albeit more quietly than usual. Almost like he's being considerate. His footsteps stop, and although Kunikida has his back turned to his bedroom door, he imagines Dazai leaning against the frame. "Not feeling good, huh, Kunikida?"

"I'll be fine. Just need to lie down for a while," Kunikida mumbles. He feels his stomach churn uncomfortably and he has to shift to take some of the pressure off of it. He has some hope that he'll be able to finish his house chores later after some rest, but he almost never gets that lucky. Especially not with how sick his stomach has been today.

"Take any medicine?" Dazai asks.

"No," Kunikida huffs.

"Where is it?"

"I'm not telling you where my medication is, Dazai," Kunikida grumbles, forcing himself to sit up. Dazai makes a good point, though, he should probably take something to help with the nausea and pain before he rests.

"Aww, come on. I was just trying to help," Dazai whines. He's pouting in the doorway.

"I don't trust you," Kunikida mumbles as he stands up, taking a few deep breaths in the hope that it'll calm down his stomach enough for him to get up.

He walks by Dazai with a pained groan into the kitchen. The nausea is suddenly much worse, but he should have expected it to be. He's hoping he can just take some medicine and go rest, but by the time he makes it to the kitchen, he has to rethink his strategy. He burps into a closed fist, and then again, wet and acidic, bringing up a few chunks of his lunch to coat his tongue, just like last time.

"Uhhgh…uhrrp - "

He feels whatever is left in his stomach make a reappearance at the back of his throat, and he thanks whatever coincidence that forced him to stand up that he's next to the sink, because he bends over it with an arm around his middle to bring up his stomach contents with a sick splatter into it. His stomach twists and he groans from the pain, only to burp up another mouthful of bile, burning the back of his throat.

"You still have something left in there?" Dazai says, suddenly appearing behind him. He feels Dazai take his ponytail and lay something on the back of his neck that makes him shiver - a damp washcloth. It feels good. "Just get it up, you'll feel better soon."

It helps him focus his breathing a little bit. His breaths are interrupted by nauseous burps here and there, attempts to get something up, but he thinks he might be done. He spits out a wad of saliva into the sink with a pained moan before he straightens up, but as soon as he does, his glasses fall off of the top of his head and join his stomach contents in the sink, splashing up some at the sides of the sink.

He forgot he put those there. Of course this would happen to him. He almost reaches in to pick them up, but the thought of having to clean vomit off of his glasses just brings the nausea back in full swing, and he chokes up a wave of digested food and bile that he didn't know he had left in him, splashing on top of his glasses.

"Hhurk…ahh…"

He spits again with an opened-mouth moan, letting the last of the saliva-vomit mixture leave his mouth. He feels his stomach calm down, just enough for him to feel safe enough to step back from the sink.

"Where'd you learn that washcloth trick," Kunikida murmurs, rubbing at his temple. "Ugh…"

"I've never seen it actually help nausea before. But it's good for calming people down," Dazai says. 

A classic evasion of Kunikida's question, but he decides not to pry. He opens the fridge in search of his nausea medication - he spots it, using the door to hide it from Dazai's view, takes a swig out of the cap, and closes the door again.

"You don't wanna go see Yosano?" Dazai asks once the door is shut and they're face to face.

"There's not much she can do," Kunikida says with an exhausted sigh. She's tried, for sure. "It's just the same shit as usual."

Dazai pouts. "You think they'd have some sort of treatment for it by now."

"You'd think," Kunikida agrees. For now, he just has to deal with it. He has to conceal another burp and swallow back a bit of the liquid medicine that bubbles up with it. He just has to hope it stays down long enough to help his stomach feel a little better. "Have you eaten?"

"Nope. Just got here," Dazai says.

"There's leftovers in the fridge. Eat them," Kunikida says.

"You don't want them?" Dazai asks.

"I don't think I'll be able to stomach anything else tonight," Kunikida sighs. "Eat it, you didn't have lunch. And please don't touch any of the medication in there. I don't feel like gagging you to prevent an overdose."

"Okay, okay. Only 'cause you don't feel good," Dazai says, opening the fridge.

While he's up, he decides to change into something he can comfortably rest in. He's worried if he lays down the medicine will come right back up while he's lying on his side. He tries to remember to take deep breaths, it's the only thing that really keeps those sharp, uncomfortable twists of his stomach at bay. He hates throwing up, but he's hoping it stays just that, and doesn't continue with both ends tonight. He can only handle so much.

He crawls back into bed with a drawn-out moan, pressing against his bloated tummy. He takes one of his pillows and wraps his arms tight around it. It's comforting, for some reason.

Just as he's starting to shut his eyes again, he feels Dazai crawl into bed behind him and press a kiss against his temple.

"You sap," Kunikida groans.

"You sap. Look how red your ears got," Dazai teases, lightly tugging at the tip before he settles in next to him, ducking his head into the nape of his neck. "I'll be here, so tell me if you need anything. Also, I cleaned your glasses."

Kunikida thinks Dazai sounds just as tired as he is. He's not sure how useful he'll be, but he appreciates his presence. His warmth is comforting. It always has been. Dazai sneaks a hand under Kunikida's sleep shirt, just over his hip, and starts to rub circles.

"I'm surprised you're not bursting a blood vessel over not finishing your schedule today," Dazai teases.

"You have no idea how stressed I am about it," Kunikida mumbles, his stomach rolling at the thought that he'll just have more to do tomorrow. He groans and sucks in air through his teeth when Dazai's fingers press a bit too hard on a tender spot.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" he asks.

"Just - just a bit," he says as Dazai settles into a gentler rhythm. "It feels good, though."

"Good," Dazai says, "and don't stress yourself out. I'll help you catch up."

Kunikida has his doubts about that, but Dazai sounds sincere in the moment. He almost sounds sweet. Kunikida starts to have a miniature mental crisis about his situationship with Dazai. The way Dazai is pressed up against him, his forehead tucked into the back of his neck like it fits perfectly there, gently rubbing soothing circles into his aching, nauseous tummy. Sure, they've fooled around before, a bit more than they should, but Dazai doesn't seem to be looking for any of that right now. He's really just sticking around because Kunikida isn't feeling good.

Dazai makes him more stressed than he realizes. His cheeks heat up and his stomach lurches again, but he manages to keep it down swallowing the acid back. He's sure Dazai noticed, but he doesn't comment.

"Surprised you're not grossed out by all this," Kunikida murmurs, letting his eyes fall shut. He takes a hand to lay over Dazai's, silently guiding him a bit closer to his navel, and Dazai obliges. Kunikida doesn't bother holding back a moan.

"It's whatever. I feel like we see way grosser stuff at work," Dazai says casually.

"Fair enough," Kunikida says.

"You really like this," Dazai says through something that almost resembles a giggle. "I can hear your little moans in your throat here. It's cute."

"It feels good," Kunikida defends again. It feels like Dazai is rubbing out all of the sore spots in his tummy. "You're good at it."

"I'm glad it feels good," Dazai says, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Kunikida feels his face flush. "Your poor tummy. I can really feel it bubbling in there…"

Dazai moves up from where he's been lying down, and Kunikida didn't realize he's taken his shirt off, although, he's still covered in bandages. He lays an ear up to Kunikida's stomach, which sends a shiver up his spine.

"Ohh…my poor Kunikida," he says in a pouty voice before he presses a gentle kiss up against it and lays back up against Kunikida's back.

"Your Kunikida?" Kunikida scoffs.

"Mhm…do you belong to anyone else?" Dazai against, nuzzling up into his neck. Kunikida has to admit, he's not sure if Dazai's doing this on purpose, but his stress and stomachache isn't what's at the front of his mind anymore. "I think we need to get some of these bubbles up…"

Dazai's gentle rubs start to get a little more rough, deeper, and Kunikida moans. He thinks he's asking him to burp, which he's not entirely sure he can do without bringing up bile into his mouth, but he'll try. He manages a few little ones, none sounding particularly wet, but after a few comes one that lasts a few seconds.

"Ugmhhuurp…" he swallows back another tiny splash of vomit that came back up and he lays his hand over Dazai's, "hurrk…ah - ahh, ugh, Dazai, not so rough…"

"Sorry, babe," Dazai says gently. "That was good, I think you needed that…"

He does feel a little bit better.

"Maybe," Kunikida groans, although, he can't deny he likes the way Dazai is acting with him right now. He can't admit it out loud, but it's obvious he already knows.

"Love you," Dazai murmurs quietly. His rubs start to slow down, but Kunikida doesn't mind. He's starting to fall asleep himself, and Dazai's really helped his nausea so far, somehow.

"Love you too," Kunikida murmurs quietly, surprised that his half-asleep brain is agreeing to something so quickly. As he starts to slip into a dream, he wonders if Dazai is casting a spell on him. "Thank you."

"Mmm…"