#ill stick around and hang out for like an hour though! i just don't like to drink!

[number1jeonginstan]

Ok, so sry to be bothering you... AGAIN😭Guess who's back with some more hard thoughts~?

But this has been on my mind all weekend

Lee Know asking if you wanted to hang out with him and the boy who r also bringin their girlfriends. He gives you the context of amusement park or arcade. You're like, I know the perfect outfit. It's a collared crop-top and a pleated skirt(idk what colors ill let you decide on that) The skirt just hugs your waist so nicely that it gets him hard. So he purposefully throws his glasses to the other side of the bed(It's against the wall), when you're not looking and asks so sweetly, "Hey, Baby? Can u get my glasses for me." And when you do what he asks he can see your cute little cotton panties and he can't help himself. He pushes you on the bed and devours you While he's fucking you, he's like, "Who were you dressing up for huh? Such a little slut with that tiny skirt. Trynna flirt with my friends?" He knows you would never but he's just too riled up

But, idk, just hard thoughts

-🥠

A/N: THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD REQUEST. I loved writing this, because Lee Know is definitely very protective, and seeing you in that short of a skirt would make him go feral…

WC: 1.9k

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: bf! Lee Know x afab!Reader

Warnings: Lee Know calling reader a slut, unprotected sex, one ass slap, spitting… 

It was finally the weekend and you were excited to relax and do nothing with Minho. You were upside down on your bed, scrolling through your phone when he barged into your shared room. 

“Babe!” he yelled, running towards you, Soonie following behind him, swishing his tail. “Yeah what’s up?” you replied, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. “Okay so, you know that new arcade that opened,” he said while sitting on the bed. 

Soonie followed suit, jumping and curling into a ball next to you. “Yeah?” you replied, unsure where he was going with this. “Well, the boys wanted to go with their girlfriends, and they invited us.”  

You just giggled along as he continued to explain. “Well, he rented out the place for us to play, so do you want to go?” He flopped onto the bed next to you, arms behind his head waiting for your response. 

“Yeah, how long do we have though, we can go get lunch beforehand.” You said, slowly getting up. “We have a couple hours, it’s only 11, and they were thinking around 5 so we can go out and watch a movie after.” 

“That works for me, let me go get ready.” You fully got up from the bed, giving Minho a kiss as you went to take a shower. 

Before you got into the bathroom he yelled at you. “Are you sure you don’t want me to join!” in a teasing voice. You stuck your head out of the bathroom sticking out your tongue to him and locking the door. 

You were only wrapped around in a towel as you got out of the shower, your body still a bit damp. You got out of the shower to meet Minho’s eyes tracing your body in the towel “Do you want to go in while the water is still hot?” you asked him. 

He put down his phone, rubbed Soonie’s chin, and walked up towards you. “You really should have taken my offer and showered with me,” he said, kissing your lips and heading to the bathroom. 

You just giggled, turning around and heading into your shared walk-in closet. You wanted to dress comfortably, but also cutely for the arcade. Thankfully, it wasn’t too cold, so you could get away with wearing just a skirt. You looked through your closet finding the new shirt you had just purchased, a mint-green collared shirt, and a pleated denim mini-skirt that worked perfectly with the shirt you chose. 

Minho was still in the shower as you began to do your makeup. Sitting at the vanity mirror in your shared bedroom, you were contemplating doing just light makeup because you guys weren’t going anywhere special. 

Minho had gotten out of the shower, towel still on his hips as you were applying your concealer. “What shirt should I wear?” he said from behind you, looking at you through the mirror. “I think a hoodie would look good, don’t you?” 

He just nodded, kissing your temple, not fully seeing the outfit you were wearing, too occupied thinking about his own. As he finished finding an outfit, he placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, laying on the bed waiting for you. 

His back was towards the headboard, scrolling through bubble asking stays what he should eat for lunch as he finally looked up at you. You had gotten up to wet your beauty blender, what you vowed perfected your dewy makeup, which he always laughed up. His eyes roamed your body, taking in every inch. He had never seen that shirt before, or that skirt. 

The skirt hugged your torso perfectly, flaring out on your smooth thighs. The shirt on the other hand was his favorite color. He could see the outline of your bra, and he could feel himself getting hard.  You had been holding out on him, and he wanted you right there and then. He started thinking about what colored panties you were wearing under your skirt. How easy it would be to bend you over and see them. He put his plan into action. Before you came back, he threw his glasses to the other side of the room. You would be a good little girlfriend and receive it for him if he asked.

As you sat back down, he was trying to think of a way to get your attention. You had finally finished your look, applying mascara to your lashes, and you looked at him through the mirror. “Where did your glasses go?” you asked, taking note of the frames no longer being on his face. “I sneezed and now I don’t know where they are.”

“Do you want me to find them for you?” you asked, getting up from your chair and walking around in search of them. He just nodded, getting up as you bent over on the floor in hopes of finding them. They had ended up under the bed, as you bent over, trying to get them, Minho had rutted his crotch on top of yours, throat around your neck. 

He pulled you off the floor, putting your back directly against his chest, and whispered in your ear. “Who did you dress like such a slut for?” 

Before you could say anything, he threw you on the bed. You squealed in surprise, Minho was dominant, but he had never done anything like this before. “Fuck, look wearing white panties and acting all innocent while dressing like a slut.” 

“Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” Minho said, opening your mouth by pressing it together with his hands. “Take my spit like a good girl okay? Let me mark you.” 

You stuck out your tongue, waiting for him to put his fingers in your mouth, but instead, he spit into it. The string of saliva still being there as he told you to close your mouth. “Stop gaping at me like a fish, and swallow.” 

You just nodded, closing your mouth and swallowing his saliva. “Good kitten, now turn around I wanna see your pussy.” 

You did as he asked, turning around, your ass facing out as your face was slightly faced into the bed. He could already see a wet spot on your panties, “What a whore, already wet from me just spitting in your mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t even prep you?” 

You just whined at his words, begging for any sort of stimulation, and began humping the air slightly. “Fuck, can’t even wait for sir to make you feel good. Maybe I should just get off by myself?” 

“No please, will be good, will be good for you Sir.” you pleaded, you needed him. “Then be a good girl, and listen at once.” 

He smacked your ass, eliciting a moan from your lips. “Fuck, gonna eat this pussy like it’s my last meal.”

He kissed your thighs, slowly going up to your covered pussy, kissing the fabric. He slowly took the fabric off of you, letting out a sigh of contentment when he saw how wet you were for him. “Sir please” you moaned, feeling the cool air coming in contact with your bare cunt. 

“Shut up or else” he groaned into your cunt, wanting to enjoy the moment. You quickly became quiet, covering your mouth with your hand as he began to lick a stripe in between your folds. He flipped you around, wanting to be face-to-face with your cunt. 

You began to try and take off your skirt, but he slapped your hand away. “Wanna fuck you while you are wearing this skirt. Want to make you cum in this so it reminds you of who owns you whenever you wear it.” 

You just nod your head, placing your hands on your face as he begins to suck on your clit. Licking it and sucking on it as he began to slip one of his veiny fingers into your cunt. “Fuck baby, taste so good, only for me right?” 

You moaned as he began to thrust his finger inside of you, still sucking on your clit. “Take off your shirt and your bra, I want you to play with your tits.” 

You did as he asked as he still ate you out, barely able to comprehend anything as you felt the fabric of your bra shifting off your nipples. He looked up from your cunt, your juices splayed against his chin as he leaned in to kiss you. 

You could taste yourself on him, moaning as one of his fingers came to pinch your nipple. “Be a good girl and play with them for me okay?” He said kissing your lips another time. You nodded, bringing your fingers to them, as he began to take off his shirt. You could feel his cock rub against your thigh as he was doing so. 

It was getting to be a bit much, you were soaked and you needed him inside of you. You pawed at his pants, trying to get them off faster. “Fuck baby, that’s why you wore this skirt, because you want my cock that bad?” 

You nodded, “Can I please have your cock sir?” you begged. He obliged, reaching over to get a condom, but you stopped him. “Want you in me raw today” and he groaned out loud. “Fuck baby, want to wake around with my cum? Want everyone to know you belong to me?” 

You nodded, “want everyone to know that I’m your Sir.” 

“So my baby isn’t a slut for my friends, she’s just a slut for my cock,” he said, kissing your lips again. 

He began aligning his cock with your cunt, slapping your clit a few times with his tip, trying to get you to squirm underneath him. “Please sir, I need it” you moaned, wrapping your legs around him trying to get him to put it in already.

He finally obliged, slowly putting his cock into you, inch by inch. “Fuck kitten, you are so tight, I need to fuck this cunt more often then? Get you nice and stretched out for me so I can use you anytime.” 

“Yes sir, please fuck me anytime, where ever you want, will be good for you.” 

He fucked into you like a madman as soon as you said that, his cock disappearing under your skirt and into your tight pussy was all he needed. “Fuck baby, this cunt is squeezing me so tight.” 

He could feel your cunt squeeze around him, fluttering, so he brought down his hand rubbing your clit as he sped up his place a bit. “Are you close kitten?” 

“Yes sir, need your cum, please need it in me.” Your pussy was convulsing around him and you could feel yourself reaching your peak, especially because he was hitting the spongey spot inside you. “Fuck kitten, cum for sir, cum on my cock.” 

That was all you needed to cum around him, moaning his name over and over again. That was all Minho needed to cum inside you. 

He slowly pulled out, watching your pussy dribble out the mixture of both your cum onto your skirt, ruining it. 

“Fuck baby, sorry if that was too much,” he said, trying to fix your hair a bit. You just giggled, falling back into his arms. “At least this time we won’t be too late” you giggled into his ear. He just laughed, you still in his arms, 

[moralesluvr]

Hii. So I had this idea where it’s (e-1610) miles saving Reader from something and when he finally looks at her he immediately becomes attracted towards her (like love a first sight thing) and gets all shy and cute

love at first sight ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: miles morales x fem!black!reader, college au, cafe au. ♡ summary: after getting hit on after walking home from work, your friendly neighborhood spiderman is here to save you-- and he‘s stunned when he sees you. ♡ warnings: none jus fluff! ♡ a/n: this is so extremely self indulgent because i wear glasses and i was just visualizing this the whole time LOLLL ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

YOUR SAGE-TINTED FINGERNAILS PINCH around the soft material of your apron, a broken sigh tumbling off of your reddened lips as you placed it on the coat rack in the back of your workplace. Another huff leaves you, this time of relief, eyes darting to the clock that resides on the wall. It reads, it digital numerals, '10:22.'

You should've closed twenty minutes ago, but of course, some of your avid regulars insisted that they needed a coffee or slide of banana bread right as you had grabbed the broom from the back, ready to shut the cafe down. But you couldn't complain because you were at least happy that you had the next couple of days off, so you let your worries roll off of your t-shirt clad shoulders, grabbing your purse and keys from your work cubbie and switching off the lights.

Keys jingling as you step outside, you stick a golden one into the hole that's below the door's handle, locking it and beginning your walk down the street.

A shiver courses through your veins, your body not quite adjusted to the sweet, yet wintry cold that summoned goosebumps on your bare forearms. You hugged yourself and tucked the sides of your coat in, throwing your Coach bag over your shoulders as the pretty lights of Brooklyn advocated for your lack of vision.

The cafe that you worked at was the only place you could earn money and also enjoy. Your boss was one the upperclassmen that you knew from your university, which really helped because she always gave you days off and flexible work hours. All your co-workers were just close friends or classmates-- plus, you loved to bake, so it really was a genuine place of interest.

You're humming one of your favorite songs down the block when you reach a strip of shops. There's a pub nearby and you always hold your breath when you pass it-- because it's not so much a bar, but more of a place where teenagers hang out and smoke or drink ill-tasting beer. Usually you're safe passing through, but that wasn't necessarily the case tonight.

A boy that you recognize from your university stumbles out of the place, eyes reddened and droopy as he stopped you in your tracks. He smirked at you, "Why're you walkin' all by yourself? Need some company?"

Pushing a curl back behind your ear, he beams a smile at you, one that makes your stomach feel uneasy as you slowly moved his hand back down to his side.

"No, Aaron, I don't. I...have a boyfriend." You lied through your teeth. You definitely didn't, but you needed a valid excuse as to why you didn't want this creep taking you home.

"I think you do need some company, though, pretty thing." He insists, pushing himself closer to you, a laugh sounding from his throat. "I don't see your boyfriend. What kind of man would leave his girl alone at night, walking down the streets of New York?" His hands find home on your waist and you let out a squeal, "Stop!"

Although it's no use. He continues, trying to learn into your lips as you fight his tight embrace. But he's stronger, and you genuinely think that you're a goner until a tall figure in a-

Spider-Man?

He comes literally out of nowhere, standing in front of Aaron as he grabbed both of his arms, removing his grip on you. The masked vigilante twists his hands behind his back and he screams, biting his lip, "This your pathetic boyfriend, huh? Some idiot playing around in a mask?"

Spider-Man says nothing to that, except he just shoots a web at Aaron's hands, pinning them behind his back. He then flips him around and webs his mouth, moving closer to him. He whispers against his skin, "Shut up."

Aaron's eventually pinned to the brickwork of the pub's walls, when Spider-Man finally turns to look at you. You're smiling, even though anxiety is still pumping through your blood, "Thank you, Spider...Spider-man?"

He just stares at you.

You're so pretty, curls tucked back in a ponytail with some loose ones hanging against your dark glasses frames. You're clad in a leather jacket and a pair of ankle-high boots, a pretty skirt resting on your thighs. The moonlight glows against your brown skin, and he finds his mouth dry because it's wide open.

You cock an eyebrow at him, "Spider-Man? Are you okay?"

And although he longs to say something, to get the words out, he can't help but give you one last glance as he finds himself webbing to a wall, swinging away without saying a word.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @ishqani // @mookiebut // @urmotherswhor3 // @cumbermovels // @asmobeuses

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022 // @ilyless // @milesmolasses // @laylasbunbunny // @all444miles // @thecoloredpages // @bl00dsuccker // @evacowan // @popeheywardssecretgf // @adoremvney // @anikaluv // @qtdenks

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae // @luci1fer

[westside-rot]

Kill For You

Authors note: This was intended to be my first drabble but my brain wouldn't let me stop and here we are with all these words. I'll get it right and stop rambling eventually lmao

Also, I'm dipping my toe into fanfics, having fun with ideas and seeing what sticks so please be nice. It's never that serious. This has light editing so excuse any errors.

Minors dni. I do not consent to my work being copied/reposted anywhere. Stealing is lame so don't do it. Reblogs and comments are always welcome after you hit like lol

Protective husband Toji

Mentions of violence and smut *sorry not sorry*

Choosing an outfit is never easy for you. Most days it’s more like a chore and less like a first step in having fun. The way Toji’s eyes tear away from the video game he’s playing to shamelessly appraise your body is confirmation you made the right choice. Going out tonight was a last-minute decision. With limited time to get ready you opted for a backless navy-blue halter dress that showed off plenty leg without having to worry about your ass being exposed. A modest selection for the club. There’s nothing modest about the way Toji admires your curvy frame.

You pretend not to notice as you drop your phone into your purse and inform him of your plans for the evening.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. Enjoy your game. I love you.” It’s foolish to think you’d get away with a rushed explanation and a quick kiss goodbye. When Toji’s large hand catches you by the wrist you aren’t the least bit surprised to have your departure interrupted. You huff and scrunch up your nose to hide your amusement. The charade ends the moment you lock eyes. With a smirk on your face you melt into his broad defined chest and the kiss accompanying his possessive hold on your waist.

“Now let’s try this again Mrs. Fushiguro. Where do you think you’re going in this dress?”

You can’t answer right away as your husband leads you into one kiss and then another. Soon you’re in a full-blown make-out session. When he does finally let you up for air it’s a miracle you can speak. An even bigger one that your panties haven’t melted right off your ass. You explain how one of your girls is going through a bad breakup and you and the rest of the friend group have decided to get her out of the house for a night of drinks and dancing. Toji hums in what you assume to be understanding. The way his lips ghost over the creamy brown skin of your collarbone, tongue dipping between your boobs says otherwise.

“You look gorgeous my love. Maybe you should change. I don’t think I want you wearing this dress without me around.”

“Baby, I can’t. The girls will be here in five minutes. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve felt pretty in a dress.”

He knows you’re being genuine just like he knows you don’t fault him for the long work hours and long overdue date nights. Giving you his blessing is the first step in making amends. Even though he raises you to your feet and readjusts the bottom of your dress back into place you can see the conflict happening behind his dark green eyes.

“I promise to be good.” You pout and run your fingers over the clipped black hair hanging over his forehead. He growls and pulls you closer.

“Keep your phone on. Should any man dare speak to you let them know disrespect is a crime punishable by death. Your husband is the executioner.”

“Yes sir.” You purr against his lips and erupt into a fit of giggles when he sends you on your way with a firm smack to the ass that stays with you long after you join your friends in the rideshare. It requires some convincing not to fake an illness to stay at home with your husband. Nurturing your friendships is important to you. The last thing you want is to become the friend who forsakes all others for her man. A night away from him will do you both some good. And so you turn your thoughts away from him and focus on the night ahead.

Hours later you’re regretting your decision. It’s not that you haven’t enjoyed yourself. After spending weeks going from work to home you loved every second of existing in your own bubble with your girls. The music had been on point and the drinks were nice and strong. That seemed like a good thing in the moment. By 1am you remember why you could only handle the club in small doses. The men had officially lost any sense of decency. While you understood wanting to end the night in good company, you were tired of having to relay Toji’s message to every man occupying your personal space. The massive ring on your finger should’ve been effective fuck boy repellent. Yet here you were on your fourth insincere apology. To their credit, they eventually cut their losses and backed away. There was always one that refused to take no for an answer. This particular jerk refuses to accept your no, going as

Deciding you’ve reached your fill on corny pick up lines, you and your girl decide to wait for the rest of your group outside. You've dealt with your fair share of thirsty men, none crazy enough to get physical and call you an uppity bitch for dismissing him. Pulling away only gives him reason to tighten his grip on your arm. Before you or your friend can respond with a swift kick to the balls a strong pair of hands pull the man off his feet and cast him aside like a rag doll. Your eyes practically fall out of your head when you realize it’s Toji. He’s too busy making good on his word to acknowledge your shock. While the dumb ass puts up an impressive defense he’s easily overpowered and pummeled to the ground. Every punch he throws is reciprocated with two more that land directly in his face until he's unrecognizable. Toji shows no sign of stopping. Even though you'd bet money you weren't the first woman this piece of shit has put his hands on, he isn't worth a prison sentence.

It's your voice pulling Toji back to his senses. One more punch and a kick to the ribs and he's snatching the man up by his collar to hold the man's bloody face in your direction.

“Apologize for putting your filthy hands on my wife. I’m only sparing you because she asked.

He complies and stammers out an apology through the stream of blood running down his nose into his mouth. You’re disgusted by how little you care about the beating he’s taken. Unlike the idiot before you, no one is going to force you to apologize for noticing how well your husband is filling out his thermal. In the hours since you last saw him his corded muscles appear larger and more defined underneath the black fabric. It looks painted on. The color has always been your kryptonite. Toji is wrapped in it, from his jeans down to his work boots. It’s the black beanie tugged down over his ears that turns you feral.

Toji’s voice cuts through your thoughts with a clear directive you can’t ignore. “Let’s go. All of you. NOW.” He leads you out of the club with your gaped mouth friends trailing closely behind, the crowd parting like water to let you pass. Some women gawk, one gave you a thumbs up, while other voices agreed with Toji’s methods. You have the urge to remind everyone he's your husband but decide against it.

Once in the car Toji instructs you to put everyone’s addresses into the GPS. After that the ride is tense and mostly silent. In the group chat your friends are remain crazy and undeterred as they unanimously decide Toji’s deserves immaculate head on everyone’s behalf.

You bite down a laugh then respond in chat, assuring them you will but you can't pinpoint Toji’s mood. He seems upset with you. Despite being grateful for his presence you’re somewhat annoyed with him for infiltrating your girl’s night out. Exactly how long had he been spying? Why hadn’t you noticed him before? Was he being protective, or did he not really trust you?

It pisses you off that while you’re stewing in emotions you shouldn’t feel Toji is being the perfect gentleman, not only driving your friend’s home but escorting them to the door to ensure they make it inside safely. Upon arriving home you decide you're going to sleep off your frustrations and be a responsible adult tomorrow.

Toji has other plans. Resisting your inner brat, you allow his firm yet pleading tone to keep you in your seat with arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry for not getting to you sooner baby. I was trying to be respectful to the hoe asking me dance and got distracted.”

The way your jaw clenches at the mention of the faceless woman proves Toji isn’t alone in his unhinged behavior. In your defense your patience runs a bit longer than his. You certainly haven’t beaten any women to a pulp for getting close. No woman had dared to touch what belonged to you either.

“Sure.”

“I got this bad feeling after you left that I couldn’t shake. Maybe it was nothing. But I rather have you upset with me than ignore my gut and something happens. You’re my entire world. I can't exist without you.”

Suddenly you’re climbing into your wonderful man’s lap to shower him with appreciation one kiss at a time across his beautiful face. You’re a brat that needs to correct her attitude. To further drive home the point you drag your tongue over his scar then back down to his chin, bearing your teeth and latching on. Toji’s lips curve into a vulgar smile but otherwise appears unfazed.

“How do you intend to make it up to me brat?”

His dick, hard and restricted against the crotch of your panties sends a message to put action to words. You comply with eager hands fumbling with his belt as you lean back on the steering wheel. “By letting you use me. You can start by fucking me right here in the driveway.”

He groans as though he’s already inside of you. What you mistake for passion on the verge of release is restraint to keep both hands firmly at your waist. He refuses to touch the intimate parts of you with soiled hands. Another reason to despise the piece of shit from earlier. But you’re too horny to argue. You practically race up the driveway, fumbling with keys to unlock the front door. The kitchen to wash your hands or a shower. You can’t decide. Toji makes the decision for you.

“Take off your panties.” Pulling them down your shapely legs, you toe the lace off to the side along with your heels. You abruptly clamp on the taunt you’ve prepared when you see him kneel before you, presenting his shoulders as a thrown he wishes you to occupy. Always mindful of safety you drape one leg across him and keep the other on the ground for leverage until he demands your trust. You comply. Your husband is a strong man. You’re reminded how much when he straightens his back, hoisting you off the ground, trapping you between the door at your back and the tongue in your pussy.

You close your eyes and surrender to weightlessness, tugging at his hair and mewling your pleasure, vocal but not too loud. You want to hear him lewdly slurp at his meal, burying his face in it like he’s eager to drown and die a satisfied man. His tongue is just as big as the rest of him. You love the way he alternates between the wavelike motions against your clit to stuffing your needy walls. It doesn’t take long to come like this. You whimper his name on its arrival, shudder then relax on his shoulders with your feet set firmly at the center of his back. When he finally sets you on the ground with a suckling kiss to each thigh you follow him on shaky legs into the kitchen.

The energy shifts from two wantons chasing pleasure to comedic and downright absurd. Toji has you pinned in front of him at the sink, his burly figure towering over you in playful competition for his share of the running water all while he struggles to penetrate you handsfree. You wish you could see how silly he looks with his jeans below his ass grinding near your entrance like some inexperienced teenager. The failed attempts have given your abs the workout you haven’t asked for. You’re the drunk one. Toji has no excuse for his antics but you’re honored he trusts you with this silly version of himself, a side the world doesn’t know exists.

"Spread your legs a little wider—push your ass up."

"Give up please." Laughter splutters from you when he notches the head between your folds, almost but not quite. The way he dips and rolls his hips as if he's sure it'll get him where he needs to be put tears in your eyes. "You’re trying to kill me." Resting your head on the counter, you give up attempting to wash your hands to fully commit to laughing. Toji joins in while taking full advantage of the water.

"Not at all gorgeous. I’m trying to fuck you." He doesn’t bother to dry off his now thoroughly washed hands as guides himself to your entrance. He reaches his target on the first try. Neither of you is laughing anymore.

The first thrust is always the sweetest. Especially when you’ve gone deprived for so long.

"There ya go. Shut that pretty fuckin mouth and let me inside." He kicks your legs apart to widen your stance and ruts into your ass. You nearly submerge your head under the water from the impact but recover quickly, stretching your soapy fingertips into the water instead and deepening the arch in your back. It gives him a full display of your ass bouncing off his pelvis and aligns him with just the right spot. He drills you for several heavenly minutes then fucks you into a standing split. Somehow you manage to cut off the water and just in time because he's snatched you off your feet, locking your knees over his elbows to fuck you midair.

There's nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. He fucks you like he's upset, like he's secretly harboring a grudge he doesn't want to speak on. You love it but feel as though you owe him another apology.

Toji isn’t giving you the chance to speak. Even as he walks you into the living room, he’s slamming you down on his dick, knocking the words right out of you. He’s relentless even in the way he places you back on your feet and jerks you around by the hair to segue right back to hard thrusts in one disorienting motion.

"I’m sorry. I’ll burn the dress—Don’t be mad." You wail over the sound of his balls colliding with your ass and frantically attempt to leverage yourself on the couch. He’s quick to restrain both arms behind your back, locking them at the elbow in a one-armed restraint. His free hand snakes your throat. There’s nowhere to run even if you want to. You don’t. He slams into you numerous times before his brain processes what you managed to say.

"What? No baby--just need to feel you and remind myself you’re mine... beautiful and all fucking mine."

"All yours. Only fucking yours." You echo the words. It earns you more sharp thrusts in powerful succession, the intensity forcing you on to the tips of your toes. You chant the words through your delirium and yield as he cranes you backwards by a makeshift ponytail to roughly kiss his way into your mouth. Not the most comfortable position but you love being treated like his personal doll. It doesn’t matter that you watched him mark his territory in the most violent way possible or how ridiculous it might seem to need the reassurance. He's a man, your man, the person you vowed to spend your life with. If he needs his ego stroked, you'll gladly stroke it. Perhaps not in the way he’s stroking your insides but close enough for him to feel cherished and irreplaceable. He deserves it after giving you some of the best orgasms of your life.

All you can do is scream your praise when the third one hits. Every nerve ending in your body feels like tiny focal point detonating at once. The pleasure overtakes you, seizing control of your limbs and coherence. You topple over the couch’s armrest to sob face first in the cushions below. Tremors ripple through your fingers down to your toes now arched and pointed at the ceiling. You fear any sudden movement will remove you from this new blissed out existence. So you don’t. You remain in your wilted position, crying and fully possessed by endless quaking yet aware enough to sense Toji kneeling at eye level. Warm hands caress your face, coaxing a gratified drunken smile to confirm you hadn’t passed out.

"Did I break you?"

“Uh-uh.”

His thumb catches your bottom lip and pries your mouth open. "I’m putting you to bed."

Instantly you muster the strength to speak. "Nooo. Just gimme a minute."

His laughter soothes your rapid pulse and puts breath back into your lungs. You think you won’t need the minute you requested. Not anymore. You only need him to find his way back home. Toji ignores your pleas with soothing kisses to your nose and lips. He guides you out of the awkward position you landed in and carries you to your bedroom.

It's a welcome change to be returned to your plush bed with your husband looming over you, gaze imbued with love you'll never get tired of seeing, removing the dress still gathered at your waist as though you'll break if he handles you poorly. He removes what remains of his attire and rejoins you on the bed. Finally you’re both gloriously naked. You pull him down on top of you, hard lines melding with soft russet contours and entangled limbs sharing a single heartbeat.

He fucks into you slow, takes his time delving to where your soul resides, whispering his devotion against your damp skin. When you reach orgasm for the last time he isn’t far behind you, filling you with his cum, marking you as his. It isn’t until he pulls out, when the urge to watch his cum leak from your spent body is too great to ignore do you realize how turned on you were watching him defend your honor. It’s toxic to wish for such things but it’s a subject you refuse to drop until you’ve talked it out with your husband. Toji will have to be the one to put a stop to your fantasy, that or replace it with something different, something better. Until then you drift back to the present, shut your eyes, and plan out your next outfit.

[the-togepi-man]

The boy you (and maybe shawn?) have a crush on

Sure, im a little high and he wont see this since he doesn't use tumblr. Dunno if I'll ever get the chance to tell him all this so

I cant speak for Sean, who I knows really enjoys his company but falls for people a lot slower-

But I think he's a great guy. He's gives off this very aloof vibe, but he's incredibly smart and very sharp with his wit and observations. The first time He, Sean, and I hung out together - those two talked about how they listen to NPR and the Economist in the morning. It was goofy but thats when I first noticed myself getting flustered. He cares about his friends and his relationships very much, as do I. SO while polyamours people don't HAVE to all date each other it's insanely important to me that Sean enjoys their company too

He and Sean also have this rapport and bounce off each other so well that it's just hard to not roll your eyes but get caught up in it. He's got this really cute smile, and when you make a jab at him or catch him off guard his opens his mouth with this goofy smile and his cheeks turn bright red. His eyes also twinkle a little when he gets excited. And even though he doesn't like eye contact, if the conversation is important he maintains it to show how much he's listening. Also after he does his hair - a few hours in to the day the very front of it has one curl that drops down on to his forehead and its adorable as all fuck

He's passionate about the things he's interested in, and even more passionate about staying true to himself. It's very clear that he wants to live his life as who he is, and I think that more people should aspire to do. He puts his passions and his friends first and does his absolute best to make sure he sticks to all the plans he makes with them. When i first asked him to make plans with us, I was thinking "ah yeah he might fade away like everyone else" but then the next day he followed up with plans for a happy hour. When I point out things I am really interested in he asks questions and says "oh we will have to watch that some time" or "or ill have to try that." He and Sean inspire me to try new foods and do new things I normally wouldn't. Sean's helped me grow a lot, but when he and Sean both commit to something I start to see how much I was missing out on

Small break from his personality- he's also SUPER hot. Like just tall, gorgeous, great body, hairy chest, great cuddle buddy, beautiful eyes, comforting smile, and from what I recall a good kisser- among other things.

He has a lot of parts to his personality and every time we hang out I feel like a learn more in a good way. Like every time we hang out it's a new discovery. With that said, he's also not high maintenance. I love going out and doing fun stuff with him and Sean, but I also love that we can just grab some drinks, hop on the couch, cuddle up and watch something together or listen to music together. He puts on songs sometimes that remind me of my childhood and sitting around at my grandparents house listening to my family talk while I fell asleep to the music

That might be the hardest part about not saying all this to him, - but he feels like he really fits right in to place with Sean and I, not like I've ever felt before. And of course I've talked to Sean about all this (Because Sean is the fucking BEST- and someone would have to really be awesome to have an impact on both of us). Anyhow, he just seems like such a wonderful person that we'd both fight the standards of society to have in our lives.

So all in all, I am just glad I can be his friend more than anything. Thanks anon for letting me get this out! It felt good to type it since again, dunno if he will ever get to hear me say it- nor would he need to hear it. He can handle his life on his own- I just hope I get to be a supporting member for the rest of it :)

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Under the Light of Abafed

“‘Go to Abafar.’ ‘Go to Abafar.’ Everybody wants to go to this damn Abafar, but no one ever mentioned that - oh, yeah - it’s a huge kriffing desert!”

Cal doesn’t reply, not that Greez expects him to. The kid hasn’t moved a muscle since the dust storm. And with a busted leg and an equally-busted communicator, Greez doubts either of them will last much longer.

---

Greez never liked Abafar. He never hated it, mind you, but he never held contempt for it like he does now.

It was supposed to be a quick stop. Just a quick detour on the desert planet to refuel and tighten the bolts on Mantis’s upper right wing. Maybe pick up some real food so Greez didn't have to eat any more of those damned ration bars. Nothing major. Nothing that would take more than a couple standard hours. But it's been at least two days now, so what does Greez know?

“Greez, I don't… I think we're lost.”

“Y’think??”

Cal coughs. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Greez gripes. “I get it. We’re kriffed. No need to remind me.”

BD-1 beeps softly from Cal’s shoulder, barely audible over the wind. Sand glides across the dunes, drawing ripples in the ground. It’s almost beautiful.

Almost. Because the wind is also pelting the exhausted, hopelessly lost group with tiny grains of sand. Greez is mostly protected by his flight suit, but his bare head is taking a beating. Cal offers his poncho to Greez (why the kid is still hanging onto that damn thing in this blistering heat is a mystery to Greez), but the Lareto waves him off.

“I’m fine. Keep it.”

“It’s worse,” Cal says suddenly. “The wind, I mean. I think it's getting worse.”

“It's not getting worse,” Greez argues. “You're just paranoid.” He looks up at Cal for the first time in quite a while. But Cal doesn't look paranoid. He looks ill. Greez doesn't know much about human physiology, but he's spent enough time with Cere to know when something isn't right.

And the red face? The drenched hair sticking to Cal’s forehead? The droopy eyelids and the trembling hands?

Something definitely isn't right.

“What's up with you?” Greez demands, halting in his tracks.

“Nothing,” Cal mutters, throwing the poncho back on. BD-1 drops from his perch, buzzing angrily as his comfortable roost is upset by the constant removal and addition of the poncho. Unbothered, Cal draws up his hood. It's a fruitless battle, as the wind instantly blows his hood back down. “I’m alright.”

He obviously isn't, but he doesn't look like he’s going to collapse, so Greez lets it slide.

“Let's just get back to civilization, huh?” Greez returns to the task at hand, trying to block out his own aches and pains. Like humans, Laretos are not designed for desert life. The planet Lareton has a mild climate, and that's ultimately what Greez prefers. A comfortable temperature that neither boils nor freezes your blood. But even Lareton has its bad weather. To keep their bodies cool, Laretos exhale hot air. If hot enough, they might burn their tongues or singe their lips, but because of this, they can handle the occasional heat storm. It's painful and an overall unpleasant experience, but it won't kill them.

That might not be the case for humans, though.

“How do you humans keep cool?”

Cal doesn't respond right away, busy trying to coax BD-1 back onto his shoulder. The droid remains stubbornly grounded, darting around Cal’s legs. Greez almost asks again when Cal speaks up. “Sweat. Humans sweat this… well, sweat. Like water but sticky and smelly. It cools down our core temperatures. Or something like that.”

“Gross.”

Cal doesn't reply this time. Greez doesn't push it. The group just walks ahead in silence, the wind fighting against them.

---

The wind does get worse. It buffets them from all sides, blowing sand in their faces and ears. The heat only intensifies, and Greez spots flashes of light in the distance.

Heat lightning. Dammit.

They needed to find shelter now.

“Greez, something's… something's wrong.”

Greez stops, because when a Jedi says something is wrong, you better damn well listen. “What's wrong? This a Force thing or somethin’?”

But Cal shakes his head, looks down at Greez, and then collapses on the spot.

BD-1 jumps, its current grudge against Cal seemingly forgotten. It nudges the Jedi with its head, whirring in concern.

“Void-kriffing-dammit!” Greez hisses, hurrying to Cal’s side and shaking his arm. “Wake up!”

He’d been suspecting something like this. He’d just hoped that Cere would find them before it could happen. And now, trapped in a blazing hot dust storm, Greez is hoping even harder that Cere shows up. It's still just as unlikely for her to appear.

She's bound to show up eventually. We left days ago.

But she still isn't here, and Greez worries that the longer it takes her, the less likely she is to show up at all.

The wind picks up, and Greez has to cover his face to avoid a mouthful of sand. Cal, still unresponsive, can do no such thing. He just lies there and gets beaten up by a barrage of tiny daggers.

Greez gives up on trying to rouse his companion. Instead, he climbs to his feet and squints through the haze of sand. There has to be shelter somewhere. It's not a completely uninhabited planet.

Sand. Sand. Sand.

It’s nothing but sand! Damn dustball of a planet with nothing but heat and sand and wind and-

A rock.

Not a particularly big rock, but still a rock. Still something.

Greez doesn't waste any time. He grabs Cal underneath the shoulders and drags him through growing heaps of sand. His arms scream from the effort, but he keeps going. The droid follows along, taking large clunky steps as it tries to keep up.

They’ve nearly reached the rock when Greez missteps. He isn’t looking where he’s going (and how can he when he can barely see anything at all?) and he steps on something uneven. His toes land on solid ground, and his heel descends into the bodiless void of sand. He feels something snap in his foot and, in an instinctive attempt to reduce damage, he digs his toes into the solid surface and tries to pull his ankle free. But then the solid ground (an unnaturally stiff clump of sand, most likely), crumbles away, and Greez’s foot is once again yanked in the wrong direction. And this time, he doesn’t feel any snapping or popping.

This time, he feels something break.

Greez screams. He curses. He swears vengeance against the laser-brained piece of sith spit that invented sand.

For a long moment, and possibly longer than he even realizes, Greez lies on his back, eyes screwed shut against the weather. He breathes shallowly, trying to ignore the fire climbing up his leg.

“Cal!” he shouts, hoping beyond hope that maybe Cal is awake again. Maybe the kid will show up, laugh at Greez for worrying, and then carry him to safety.

But it doesn’t happen.

The droid bonks his head against Greez’s, but it isn't all that helpful. “You can't get us out of this, can you? Or build a shelter or something?”

BD-1 beeps out a denial.

Oh well. It was worth a shot.

“Okay, time to go,” Greez mutters. He takes one more breath, mustering the courage, and then sits himself up, doing his best not to move his right leg. Even still, the slightest jolt sends electricity through his bones. He sizes up the situation.

Cal, three feet away. Motionless.

Greez, with an injured leg. Sprained or (more likely) broken ankle.

BD-1, too small to carry anyone and so far unable to contact the Mantis.

Mother Nature, spewing sand every which way and already burying the wayward group in the dunes.

The odds are not good.

“C’mon,” Greez begs himself. “C’mon. Just… Just gotta-” He levers himself up but stops immediately, mouth frozen in a horrified “o” as his leg screams in agony. He breathes through the pain, once again thrown to the ground. BD-1 scurries over, but Greez barely notices. And as the pain slowly, slowly ebbs from pure acid to a mild bed of hot coals, the pilot realizes the truth.

They’re not getting out of this one.

He wonders how long it will take. Will they quickly get buried with the sand and suffocate? Or will they simply get trapped? Will they wait days - weeks - until they’ve starved to death? If Cal dies first, will Greez be stuck watching his crewmate - his friend - decompose until Greez can starve? If Greez dies first, will Cal wake up and realize what’s going on? How confusing and scary would it be to-?

Greez’s thoughts cut off when something jars his leg. His vision goes white as sudden pain overtakes him. It takes him a long moment to remember how to breathe. He needs another moment more for his vision to come back. And that’s when he sees it.

A pair of dusty brown boots. A pale hand gripping Greez’s jacket. The ground sliding past as Greez is dragged away.

“Cal?” Greez bites his tongue, struggling to ignore his leg, still getting jostled about. “Cal, ’zat you?”

There’s a grunt. That might be a “yes.” Greez can’t be sure.

Cal stops abruptly, and Greez realizes that some of the wind has died down. Or, not died down. It stopped completely from the east. They’re protected by the rock. Cal must have seen it too and dragged Greez the rest of the way.

Cal slowly kneels, but he falls halfway through, hitting the ground with a solid thud. Instantly, the droid, who had been content with trailing behind Greez, is scurrying past him, whining and beeping at Cal.

“Kid?” Greez twists to his right to see a once-again unconscious Jedi. Greez shakes him once for good measure, but, unsurprisingly, there’s no reaction.

But Cal did his part. Time for Greez to earn his keep.

Slowly, carefully, Greez drags himself backwards so he’s situated by Cal’s shoulders.

“Sorry, kid,” he says, wrestling the poncho over Cal’s head. It’s a tedious process, but once it’s off, Greez pins it to the rock with a climbing spike and secures the other side of it into the sand, forming a rudimentary tent against the rock. It’s the most reprieve they’ve had since the storm started, and Greez is grateful for the sand-free air.

Now that they have shelter, however shoddy and temporary it might be, Greez can worry about the next problem on his list:

Cal.

“Kid,” Greez calls, jostling Cal’s arm. Then, when he gets no response, he removes Cal’s armor, makes a fist, and jams his knuckles into Cal’s breastbone.

“Ugh,” Cal groans, blindly swiping at Greez’s hands. “In a minute, Master.”

Greez’s stomach drops to the center of the universe and is promptly sucked into a black hole. “Cal, it’s Greez. Remember? Ugly old pilot?”

BD-1 clicks, nudging Cal again.

Cal watches Greez with glassy, half-lidded eyes. His face is drenched in… sweat, or whatever Cal called it. His skin is bright red, though Greez isn’t sure if it’s from burns or illness. “Oh,” he mumbles. “Right. Hey, Greez.” Then he smiles weakly at the droid, who's now begging for his attention. “Hi, BD. Y’okay, buddy?”

Leave it to a Jedi to completely ignore the fact that they’re trapped in a dust storm, he’s probably dying, and there’s little to no chance of escape.

“How you feeling, kid?”

Cal squints. “Um… bad.”

“How very descriptive and helpful,” Greez grouses. “I was asking what was wrong, not if something was wrong. I already know that. Obviously.”

“‘m… ‘m dizzy. An’ I don’... I dunno where we are.”

“Abafar. We stopped for supplies, remember?”

BD-1 butts in, beeping its own version of events, but the droid says little worth repeating.

Cal seems to consider this. He’s working too hard to remember something that happened a few days ago, but he eventually comes up with a satisfactory answer. “Right. An’... Cere stayed back to… to do… somethin’? An’ then we got lost inna… inna storm.”

“Good,” Greez sighs. “That’s real good, kiddo. And now we’re trapped in another storm - wouldja believe that? - and you keep falling asleep on me.”

The Jedi hums. “Doesn’ sound like me.”

Greez snorts. “Just stay there, okay? I need to splint my leg.”

“Y’hurt?”

“Ankle’s messed up, yeah. But just… just stay there, alright? I got this handled.”

Cal gives a thumbs-up. (Greez finds it strange that so many planets consider that an affirmative gesture. On Lareton, it’s one of the more offensive hand signals, and every time he sees someone use it, he has to fight the knee-jerk anger it evokes.)

Content with the kid’s condition (for now), Greez addresses his rapidly worsening problem: his leg. As long as he stays still, it only aches and burns and throbs. But if Greez so much as twitches, his whole world is engulfed in pain. It takes too long for him to splint his leg. He needs to stop every few moments to recover the strength to continue. But once he has sufficiently bound a strip of leather from Cal's armor to his ankle, he can move a bit better. It's still incredibly painful, but it's no longer agonizing.

“Where’d y’learn t’do that?”

Greez looks over. Cal is watching him with hazy eyes, looking moments away from sleep.

“Flight school,” the Lareto replies. “There was a first aid class. But to be honest, I don't remember much of it.”

Cal hums. His eyes drift shut, and Greez has to shake him again.

“Hey, keep talking to me,” he insists. “What's wrong? How can I help?”

“It's… ‘s hot, Greez.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It's a desert. It's hot. My mouth is so burnt right now, you don't even know.”

“I… what?”

“You really know nothing about Laretos, don't you?”

“Didn’... didn’ have ‘em on Bracca.”

“Guess we're too smart to get into scrapping.” Greez shrugs.

And then an idea smacks him in the face, so obvious that he hates himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Hey, where’d the droid go?”

There's a beep, and BD-1 pokes its head out from behind Cal’s legs.

“You got any stims left, little guy?”

The droid whistles grimly.

“Oh. We used them all?”

“Ha-” Cal coughs hard. “Haxion Brood took ‘em. We were gonna restock at the plaza.”

Right. Great. So this is once again Greez’s fault. Perfect.

“Okay,” he says, trying not to sound desperate. “What about meditating? That fixes you Jedi right up, doesn't it?”

“S-sometimes,” Cal wheezes. His voice is getting softer, eyes losing focus.

“Can you try for me, kid?”

“Sure… sure thing, Master.”

It looks like Cal fell asleep, but Greez doesn't have much right now. He has to hope that Cal really is meditating. That he'll open his eyes in an hour, perfectly healthy, and get them all out of this.

Greez doesn't really believe it, but he tries to ignore his inner critic for the moment. Hope is scarce out here, and they need all the hope they can get.

---

When Greez wakes up, the storm is over. Sand is piled up on either side of their shelter, but the wind is gone. Sun burns through the gap between the rock and Cal’s poncho.

On reflex, Greez tries his communicator, but it's just as broken as it was before.

“Cal?” Greez sits up, careful of his leg, which has begun to swell up.

The Jedi doesn't respond, brows knit but eyes closed. He flinches every so often, like he's having a terrible nightmare. BD-1 is curled up on his chest, humming softly.

“Cal, buddy. Wake up.” Greez jars Cal’s shoulder, but all he succeeds in doing is upsetting the droid. BD-1 sparks in irritation, hopping down and scurrying out of the shelter.

Greez can't bother to care about the droid’s feelings. “Cal!” he barks. “Wake up!”

And then Greez notices it: Cal’s skin is dry. The sweat-whatever is gone. He must be meditating, because he’s getting better-

Cal’s skin is hot, though. Almost as hot as Greez’s mouth. Cal said the sweat was supposed to keep him cool, so why did he stop doing it? He’s clearly not cool.

A spike of fear runs through Greez. “Cal, talk to me! Open your eyes, dammit!”

The Jedi mumbles nonsense under his breath.

“Kid!” Greez shakes him. Slaps him. Pinches him. All he’s rewarded with is the slightest of whines, which only makes Greez feel horribly guilty.

Trill-beep!

Greez glances over his shoulder. BD-1 is hopping from foot to foot at the tent entrance.

“What’d you find?”

And then there’s the loud rumbling of thrusters. And not just any thrusters. The Mantis’s thrusters.

Greez breaks from Cal’s side, leaning as far as he can outside the tent. And sure enough, the Mantis is landing nearby, its turbines blowing sand in all directions. BD-1 beeps proudly.

“You flagged her down?”

The droid trills. If it could smile, it’d probably be beaming.

The Mantis sighs one last time before the hatch swings down. Cere runs out immediately.

“Here!” Greez calls, waving his arms. “We’re here!”

Cere sees them and hurries over. She’s far enough away that Greez has time to worry about Cal, trying yet again to shake him awake.

“Cere’s here, kid. You’re gonna be fine. Open your eyes for me, huh?”

Cal is arguably less responsive than he’d been before. He’s not even flinching anymore. He looks-

“Greez,” Cere places a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Damn sandstorm,” he huffs. “Broke my ankle, and Cal won’t… Damn kid won’t wake up.” He decides to be angry about this. Anger is easier than fear or grief or panic.

Cere absorbs this stoically, nodding. “Let me see.”

Greez awkwardly shuffles aside, and Cere kneels beside Cal, placing one hand on his forehead and the other on his arm. She closes her eyes, and Greez feels that strange air of calm. The odd rippling of the Force. Greez is no Jedi. He knows nothing about the Force, but he can feel when something is off. And right now, Cere must be using the Force, because the air feels off. Not necessarily wrong. Just… off.

After a moment, Cere opens her eyes again. Cal’s remain shut.

“Well?” Greez asks carefully.

“Heatstroke. We need to get him to the Mantis and cool him down.”

“Can’t you just… I dunno, fix it?”

“I’m no healer, Greez. I could barely figure out what was wrong. Trust me; you don’t want me trying to heal him.”

Cere retreats to the Mantis for a few minutes, during which, Greez simply breathes hot air and - try as he might to avoid it - worries. But Cere returns quickly with the old hover-bed from the Mantis’s tiny medbay. With Greez down for the count, Cere has to bodily wrestle Cal onto the bed, but she manages better than expected. Greez suspects Force assistance. Cere refuses to say.

“Here.” Cere tosses him a pair of crutches.

Greez scowls. “Crutches? On the sand?”

“If you fall, I’ll come back for you,” Cere replies, completely unbothered.

Greez huffs but doesn’t complain. He tells himself it’s because Cere is already out of earshot. The truth is that he can’t get the sight of a completely limp, completely unresponsive Cal Kestis out of his mind. By the time Greez actually makes it on the Mantis, leg elevated on the couch in the main cabin, he doesn’t even remember if he walked the whole way or not.

“Cere!” he calls out, hoping his voice carries past the galley and into the medbay. “He awake?”

Cere doesn’t respond. She hasn’t responded the last four times he’s asked either.

Greez groans and lays back, throwing one arm over his eyes. He wishes this day was over.

“Greez.”

The pilot lifts his arm, squinting against the artificial lighting. How long had Cere been standing there?

“You were gone for three days,” Cere says, helping him sit up and pushing a cup into his hands. 

“I know,” Greez grouses. “I was there.”

“What happened?” she demands. “You said you’d be gone for an hour!”

“Couple dust storms. Kid collapsed. And-” He nods at his foot. “Busted my leg trying to haul him outta there.” He’s quiet for a moment. Clicks his teeth on the lip of the cup and savors the cool water on his burning tongue. Then he swallows and searches Cere’s expression for answers. “How’s the kid?”

Cere doesn’t respond immediately, sitting beside Greez’s feet and cutting off the splint. “He’s… not great. I’ve got bacta patches on the worst burns, but he’s going to need a tank. And unless he wakes up, there’s not much we can do in the way of hydration.”

Greez tenses. He’d thought Cal wasn’t looking great, but he didn’t realize they’d need to find a medical center for him. Naively, Greez had assumed it was nothing more than a little fatigue.

How wrong he was.

“Abafar doesn’t have a med center, but Taris isn’t too far out.” Cere sticks a bacta patch to Greez’s sorry-looking ankle. “I assume you didn’t get supplies while you were wandering out in the desert, but I got the Mantis fueled up.”

“She’ll survive the trip,” Greez assures the Jedi, absently hoping the same can be said of Cal. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

They spent three standard days in the desert on Abafar. Cal spends one day in a bacta tank on Taris before they run out of credits, and then they’re forced to camp out in the Mantis. Two days after that, Cal graces his friends with his awareness.

“Ugh.”

Greez notices first, because he’s been at Cal’s bedside more than any of the Mantis crew. He jumps.

“Kid,” he says, patting the Jedi’s cheek. “Hey, Cal. Wake up, buddy.”

“Gr…eez…?” Cal cracks one eye open, frowning up at the ceiling.

“Hey, kid,” Greez greets. “You scared us.” He wants to be angry at Cal. He really, really wants to be angry at him for conking out at the galaxy’s least convenient time and leaving Greez to fix everything. But then Cal looks at him with those sad green eyes, and Greez just feels bad.

Cal blinks a few times, like he’s trying to shrug the grogginess off. Then he moves to sit up, failing spectacularly and falling solidly on his back.

“Whoa, relax, kid.”

“What… What happened?” Cal’s voice sounds like he was gargling rocksalt and blaster bolts.

“Got lost on Abafar,” Greez explains, helping prop Cal up and offering him a cup of water. “And then you passed out. Cere said it was heatstroke.”

Cal gulps down the water faster than he should, chokes on it, coughs up half a lung, and then sets the cup down in defeat. “That… makes sense. Feels like my blood’s on fire.”

Well, that can’t be good.

“Are…” Cal coughs on the water one more time. “Are you okay?” He nods at the pilot’s heavily-bandaged leg.

Greez smiles. “This? Gonna take a lot more than this to keep ol’ Greezy down.”

Cal smiles back, though it’s weak and watery. “Good. I’m… I’m really glad you’re alright, Greez.” He shifts so he’s lying on his back again, eyelids heavy.

“You too, kid,” Greez agrees. “You scared me for a bit.”

“Sorry.” And he looks so sad.

“No, no, don’t be-”

But Cal is drifting off again, eyelids fluttering.

Greez ruffles Cal’s hair and straightens the sheet lying over him. “Sleep well, kid.”

[spectacle-street]

I don't like to soliliquize about how my life is going anymore because I usually talk about how much it's improved and then everything immediately goes downhill after that, but I'm gonna take a chance and give a good ramble about how my life is going. Without jinxing it. I hope.

In the last few months, I've been working on not holding myself to such high standards anymore. I was always really stressed by it. It got into everything I did, even when I was just relaxing. I couldn't do a face mask occasionally as a treat, I had to do one regularly and with discipline. I couldn't read a book when I felt like it, I had to adhere to a strict schedule of reading every day at a specific time and if I didn't I was a terrible person and a failure. It was, as you no doubt can imagine, really exhausting. I was trying to make my life as perfect as those tik tok "my 5-9 before/after my 9-5" videos and I was miserable the whole time.

I ran into the same issue with my religious practices. I couldn't just worship in whatever way felt right to me, I had to do it a specific way and if I did it wrong I was convinced I was a terrible person. I felt immense guilt for not sticking to a daily schedule of prayer and going out on full moons to do this and that and making sure my house was always cleaned on new moons and yadda yadda yadda. It was a major "girl failure" mood.

So, having a strict, disciplined schedule is not my cup of tea. I really needed a looser routine and I needed to place less pressure on myself.

The only part of my day I can't loosen up is work. I have to leave by 7 and I get home by 5 (the car ride to and from work is 45 minutes to an hour, it's a real bitch to do but I needs money). I still want to get up earlier and get more done before work, and I still want to be productive after work, but I figured I might as well do it in a way that doesn't make me stressed as fuck.

What else is new? Having a crush these days is NOT it. It's fun for a week when I get to fantasize about that person and float on cloud 9 but then I spend all of my time worrying about whether or not they like me and anxious about our every interaction. That and I put a lot of time into trying to hang out with him and talk to him and he wasn't really interested. I had to balance being respectful about that in my head and also feeling righteously upset for myself because *sob* I'm such a catch and he doesn't even care. Ah weell, life goes on. It is what it is.

I've been pretty good about this kind of stuff lately. I know the worst of my obsessive crushes were due to a cocktail of mental health issues, so I try not to look back on myself too harshly. I also know that in the end, I can only put my best foot forward and try not to dwell on the past too much. When I let it invade the present, I couldn't find any rest and besides which, nobody was ever asking me to carry it around like that. I think that attitude has helped me cope better with some of the more personalized aspects of my illness. My voices always reflect where my mind is currently at, so when I lingered on past issues they lingered there too (and offered extremely unhelpful commentary).

I did get a flash of paranoia the other night. It was vivid and scary. I think I drank too much caffeine? Nothing like being extremely fearful at 9 PM while trying to buy heavy cream at the grocery store. I talked myself through it though and by the time I got home, the feeling was naught more than a fading memory.

When you're doing relatively well, it can be disorienting and scary to suddenly be plunged into this dark and scary alternate reality you once existed in though. Everything is overwhelming when you're like that! I felt like I'd just stepped through a rip in space time. I don't know how else to convey how topsy turvey everything gets when you're symptomatic. I used to be paranoid all the time and I really wouldn't ever choose to go back to that.

I'm being treated for lyme disease right now, so that's fun! I was mysteriously sick for about 3-4 weeks and I finally, FINALLY saw a doctor. As soon as I got in they saw the bullseye rash on my stomach and were like "get this bitch on some antibiotics." I wasn't able to keep any food down from about the time I woke up until 6 or 7 in the afternoon before and today AND yesterday I got to eat whenever I wanted like a normal, healthy human being. It was wonderful! Hopefully the good vibes continue into this week.

[sticktopia]

Welcome to the Garden (Sanctuary AU)

The Garden. A pocket dimension that sits on the line between life and death. This little world is designed to house and heal broken souls. Those who have died under tragic circumstances, or have many regrets are called to this realm. Once they let go of their trauma and regrets, the soul can pass on to its next life. That is the role of The Garden.

Orchid (Chapter 6)

“Good morning Mama. Are you feeling any better?” Orchid’s eyes slowly opened, She looked over to the door to see her son walking in, pink tulips in hand. Orchid smiled as she saw him.

“I'm feeling better now that you're here.”  Orchid said as she weakly reached out towards her child.

“That’s good.” He said as he held her hand. Even though her son wore a smile, Orchid saw the pain in his eyes. Orchid was about to say something when she started coughing. The purple stick panicked and helped his mother sit upright.

“Breathe mama, it’s ok.” Her son said as he pat her back. Once Orchid caught her breath, she leaned on her son.

“Oh my love… I wish I could do so much more for you…” Orchid solemnly said as she listened to her son’s heartbeat. The purple stick took a breath and hugged his mother tighter.

“You don't have to do anything more for me Mama. You’ve done everything you can.” He said with a broken voice. Orchid chuckled and sat up straight. She cupped her son’s face and wiped his tears with her thumb.

“I love you my son. And even when I'm gone, I will always love you. Do you understand?” Orchid softly asked. The purple stick choked on his words, only able to weakly nod his head and hold his mother's hands.

“I-I love y-you too Mama. I-I love you w-with everything I am.” He sobbed. Orchid smiled softly before kissing her son’s forehead.

“Thank you Purple.”

Orchid was gone within the hour. Her illness had finally taken her. She didn't want to leave, not yet. She still had so much more to do, and her son still had so much more growing to do as well. She can't be there for him any more. She can't guide him when he’s lost, or hold him when he’s sad, or tell him she loves him when he doesnt love himself. It shattered Orchid’s soul. Large cracks of regret and longing grew from her heart and spread throughout her body. Causing Orchid to be sick even as a ghost. Difficulty breathing, chest pains, throwing up black goo, everything that happened to her before she died. It was tragic. She is tragic.

Orchid tends to find herself attached to her son. Wherever he was, she was nearby. She just couldn't let go. She needed to protect her little boy. She did everything in her power to be the angel on his shoulder. But she was too quiet. Becoming king of a village, stealing a dragon egg, betraying those she thought could be his friends. It pained Orchid to see her son so desperately trying to please. He was going to get in serious trouble if she didn't do something. But alas, there was nothing she could do to stop her broken child.

That’s when the tall orange stick came into her son’s life. Upon sight of him, Orchid’s mind screamed red flags. She needed to get her son out of there before something bad happened to him!!!  She couldn't just let her child hang around someone who was clearly a danger to himself and her son. Orchid whispered things to her son. Begging him to retreat and forget about this quest for approval. But once again, her voice was too quiet. And now she’s here, stuck in a void, separated from her son. All she could remember was watching her son get sucked up into a beam of light. Her child was most likely dead because of that stick. Orchid felt as if she had failed. All she wanted was to protect her child. And she failed to do even that. She was a failure of a mother. As Orchid sobbed to the void, a voice reached her ears.

“Hello?” Orchid gasped as she looked up. Standing before her was a very tall dark purple stick. Probably taller than the orange stick that killed her son.

“Are you ok?” the stick asked as they approached the broken mother. The stranger helped Orchid to her feet and noticed the large cracks over her body. They stiffened slightly as they held Orchid.

“You seem to be in bad shape, allow me to help you.” The dark stick suddenly picked Orchid up, holding her like a princess.

“Oh! Please you don't need to-”

“I insist.” The stick said as they started walking in a direction. Orchid tried to protest but she didn't have the energy to. She sighed as the stranger took her to a light.

“What’s that?” 

“My home.”

As the tall dark stick walked into the light, Orchid covered her eyes. Once the light was back to a bearable level, Orchid uncovered her eyes and gasped. This strange world around her was beautiful and lush with life. The feeling of the warm sun on her skin and the scent of flowers brought tears to her eyes. It was almost like the pain in her body was dissipating. Orchid felt alive again.

“Dandi,” Orchid looked over to see a pastel yellow stick standing with a group of children. The stick turned as her name was called.

“Bel? What is it?”  Dandi asked. Her eyes drifted down to Orchid. Dandi was about to do her greeting when she saw the deep cracks in Orchid’s body.

“Oh, Ma’am are you ok?  You're Not in any pain are you?” Dandi asked worriedly.

“I'm fine. Please don't-” a sharp pain suddenly stabbed Orchid in her heart. She choked out a cry as her body tensed up.

“MEDIC!!!!” Dandi shouted as she and Bel ran into the house. Orchid’s head was spinning. She could no longer breathe and her entire being felt as if it was being torn apart from her very code. Everything was a blur to the mother. She felt as if she were fading in and out of existence.

“Purple….” She quietly whispered in the muffled sounds of panic. She felt herself being placed onto a soft surface. Presumably a bed. There were many things happening around her. But all she could think about was  her son.

“I wonder if he’s here…” Orchid said as she stared lazily into the light above her.

“I just want to see him… One last time….” Orchid closed her eyes. Her body relaxed as she felt numb to the pain. It was like nothing mattered anymore. How ironic. She was dying a second time. But this time, there truly was no coming back.

Chapter 5-(Chapter 6)-Chapter 7

[hag-o-hags]

last weekend I went way too hard, and by Sunday night I was running on completely empty. not even partying hard, just. Ikea and redecorating and blah blah blah blah blah, in our mid-30s we ball.

all this week I've been OUT, batteries dead, zero energy, can't brain for shit, plus Mon/Tues/Wed I have a sore throat, so I'm hitting it with alka-seltzer the first couple days, till it starts to feel better and I'm just drinking SO much tea.

Wednesday the Dizzy starts. By Thursday, I can't sit up without everything spinning, and through Sunday, I have to be flat on my back. Getting up to feed the creachurs is exhausting, disorienting, and generally miserable, let alone feeding myself. Dramamine does nothing. Also, super bonus, my body fucking hurts because I can't move!

Surprise, this is exactly what getting over La Rona felt like, except I don't have La Rona.

Since November I've been sort of operating on yes, this is still LongTallShortFatCovid in the absence of enough data to officially diagnose it, so let's just behave like it's ME/CFS and see what happens. So, supine on the sofa on Sunday, I'm trying to figure out if Gentle Stretches™ are a good or bad idea with post-exertional malaise (the hallmark ME/CFS symptom that I am pretending I know I have for reasons of science). Because, again, I am stiff and sore and I fucking ache.

I know that unfortunately there's a LOT of anecdata and not much hard review around symptom relief, but I also know there's quite a lot of people trying to figure out what works. One person's dribbly candles and magic circles and stuffed crocodile hanging from the ceiling and 13 other chronically ill people chanting the universe's esoteric and black history leads to another person's 4 cc of mouse blood and three small sticks.

I found a blog with a good enough balance of science vs multiple personal experiences that it felt worth digging into -- also Gentle Stretches™ probably not gonna make PEM worse, thank god, sitting yoga ahoy. Some people found NSAIDs or steroids helped them to recover, but the really interesting one to me was a couple very very very small studies about Dextromethorphan Hbr, an OTC cough suppressant.

That tinged a tiny little ding in my foggy jelly brain, and I rooted around like a drunk opossum until I found the alka-seltzer box in the recycling. (Coulda looked this up online. But again, jelly brain.) The cough suppressant is DXM Hbr. And it's got aspirin. I'd been taking a little ibuprofen all week because Ache, so it wasn't necessarily the NSAID. But when I phased out the cough suppressant, that's when the dizzy started.

It's just a correlation, I've got n=1 here. I know that. But I took a standard dose of OTC cough syrup (DXM Hbr and guaifenesin -- no NSAIDs), and in a couple hours I could get up, and walk around the yard and water the plants, despite being kinda dizzy. I started some laundry. I kept taking it just according to the directions yesterday, and today, for the first time in an ENTIRE WEEK, I can think enough to write, I can go upstairs without needing to sit after, and I'm a little lightheaded but I'm not stumbling.

Placebo is a thing of course, but also, Dramamine couldn't touch this, even though it helped last time. Day by day it was getting worse, not better, and I was laying on the couch because I'd finally managed to finish a shower but I couldn't be upright any more afterward.

(All shower euphoria is erased when I gotta sit flopped on the ground towing the faucet hose around my head and trying not to blast my eyeballs out.)

I have an appointment with my doctor on Wednesday. I'm really lucky -- she's been great thus far, and takes me seriously when I say wacky things like I HAVE AN HYPOTHESIS REGARDING THESE SYMPTOMS, CAN WE LOOK INTO THEM. ("Yes and also would you like a referral to get spayed").

That being said, Saturday morning, I cried and cried, feeling like I had to hold onto the sofa to not fall off, because I'm scared and frustrated and angry and grieving. Grief is probably the worst because right now I don't know what I've lost. If I've lost anything. If this is real, if it's going to pass, if I'm panicking ... or if this is my life. Other disabilities have taken things from me -- doors that get closed and then bricked over. This feels like I could get shut in one room forever, like. Yes you, the Stress Powered Engine, who lives for pushing eustress as close to distress as you possibly can for fun and profit! Doing that will now hit you like a semi at highways speeds!

Or, I could recover. I don't have the data to know.

[freddieandersen]

hey everyone what's cracking I never learned how to form close personal relationships in real life so instead I overshare to a few online friends, am overly familiar with online acquaintances, and every couple months am hit by crushing loneliness!

[mikkomacko]

Home For Christmas

Steve Rogers x reader oneshot

Warnings: none

A/N: This was just a little something I was able to get out of my brain. Hoping it'll help me get writing more. It's super fluffy Steve Rogers coming home from a mission and I hope it makes y'all as happy as it made me <3

~

Thick flakes of snow gather on his shoulders, melt in the whisps of his hair making it stick to his forehead. The boots of his uniform crunch on the sidewalk, the only sound floating in the nighttime air of New York City. Everything gets quieter when it snows, gentle and soft. It's one of his favorite things about this weather. Usually the city is rowdy and chaotic, voices and car brakes squealing in his eardrums. The serum made his ears sensitive, something not a lot of people realize, so he appreciates the moments in which his ears don't feel like they're bursting.

Though he's exhausted, Steve let's himself take a moment to enjoy the scene around him. Shop windows painted with cartoon-like snowmen and boughs of Holly, big bubbles letters wishing all a happy holiday. Balconies twinkle with lights of all colors, dulled by the layer of white that's been building up since he landed at the tower a couple of hours ago.

He smiles, whisps of smoke floating up with every breath that leaves his lips. Before the serum, Steve would've never ventured out in a snow storm at 3 am. He'd be tempted to, but the phantom pain of past pneumonia and illnesses usually stopped him. Now though, he can sleep out here in the snow if he wanted and not have to worry about a thing. And he's so tired he feels like he could sleep right here but he's got too much waiting for him, too much he's been aching for.

Shaking off the drowsiness, Steve picks up the pace to make it the last two blocks. He's extra careful as he kicks off the snow on his boots, stepping into the lobby of the building. He'd hate to wake up any of the kids sleeping, especially on a night like tonight. Silent feet carry him up the stairs, his hand digging into his chest pocket for the key to the door.

The sight of the twinkling wreath on the door makes him sigh heavily, the weight of the past 4 days lifting off his shoulders. The memory of her giggle echoes in his mind, recalling how he much he fought with the hook on the door the day they hung that wreath up. He hadn't found the struggle as funny as she had, not that it matters. When she's happy and smiling, nothing matters but her.

Shadows dance on the walls of the apartment when he steps in, the front door softly clicking behind him before he twists the lock. Lines of multicolored Christmas lights light up the path to the living room, guiding him home. Steve doesn't hesitate to unlatch the shield from his back, propping it up against the wall and then prying off his boots and placing them next to it.

The background chatter of a TV commercial silences, replaced by the magical ringing of jingle bells. Steve let's the sound lull him, dragging his feet down the short hallway, past the dark kitchen and into the living room.

Tiny orange flames flick in the electric fireplace, washing the room in a soft glow. Two stockings hang from the mantle, the one on the left embroidered with his name and hers on the right. Steve had been the one to hang them, chest swelling with pride when he joked about being on her left and she laughed until her eyes watered and her face flushed.

Smiling, Steve pries his arms out of his suit, lifting the vest and undershirt over his head in one go. The heavy fabric drops to the floor with a thunk, melted snow sprinkling the floor. Steve pays it no mind, eyes dancing over the tree in the corner of the room. White twinkle lights fluttering through the shine of silver garland and reflecting off glass ornaments. Packages topped with bows lay underneath it, a stack he wrapped laying in the front. He placed them there before he left, praying to God he'd be back in time to give them to her.

His tactical belt is the next thing to hit the ground, adding to the pile he's begun. His combat pants follow, wet cloth dropping to his ankles so he can lazily kick them off. The warmth of the fire licks at his calves, the heat pleasant and welcome, but not the comfort he's looking for.

The Santa Clause plays on the TV, a sleigh and reindeer floating through a sky of snow, much like the one right outside the window. The volume is low and soft, just enough to keep the room from being silent but he's certain no human could actually pick up on what's being said. If he wanted to he could listen, but his mind is preoccupied as he tugs off his thick socks and throws them to the floor as well.

Under the quilt from their bed comes the sound of her breaths, a pile of fabric on the couch. Steve feels guilty seeing her there, knowing she hates sleeping in their bed without him. If he could, he would never leave that bed. Spend every moment left of his extended life between warm sheets, soaking in the feeling of her skin against his. He's always found comfort in the feel of her body pressed into his, skin soft compared to the scratchiness of clothes and blankets that's he's learned to ignore.

His bones ache to feel her again, the lay his head on her chest and feel it rise with each breath, hear her heartbeat so clearly he can feel it in his toes. It drives him to move closer to the couch, careful as he peels back the blanket covering her. She doesn't stir, doesn't even react when he lowers his tired body to the cushions beneath her. Red pajamas pants patterned with Santa hats and snowflakes cover her legs, and much to his relief all she wears with it is a black comfort bra.

A strangled whimper catches in his throat, Steve's eyes watering at the sight of her. He can't even explain how light he feels in this moment, how relieved he is to be back with her. It wasn't a long mission, but it was difficult. And it came at a time when he wanted nothing more than to just be existing with her in their home.

The cry he tried to muffle is what wakes her, just enough for her to realize that a warm hand is sifting through her hair and his large frame is sinking them further into the cushions.

"M'sorry sweetheart," he apologizes when she rolls to hear back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Steve squishes himself next to her, propping up on one elbow while he tucks himself under the blanket. "s'just me. No need to get up, s'just me."

Her body melts into his, instinctively snuggling into him when he rests a heavy arm over her waist. Steve presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, dragging his lips down the side of her pillow marked face. She smells of gingerbread and his body wash, skin warm and soft. He ghosts his lips over her parted mouth.

"Steve?"

He hums in confirmation, fully pressing his mouth to hers. Sluggish and uncoordinated with sleep, she lazily puckers her lips, returning his affection. He grins, relaxing back into the couch as she snuggles into his chest, nose pressed into his collar bone. His hands find her waist, fingers digging into the supple flesh as he pulls her further on top of him, bare skin soothing the homesickness that plagued him.

"Missed you so much," she whispers, breath hot on his skin. "thought you wouldn't be back."

His eyes have already fallen shut, sleep pulling at him heavily now that he's home with his best girl. He ghosts his finger tips up her spine. "Missed ya too baby," he confirms "couldn't handle another second gone."

His words seem to relax her because she sinks further into him, her breathing growing steady and rhythmic again as she falls back asleep. Steve tucks his nose into the messy whisps of her hair, drowning his senses in her. Soft skin under his fingertips, heart beating in his ears, and her welcoming scent tickling his nose, Steve let's himself fall into the depths of sleep, relieved that he's made it home for Christmas.

[bloodykora]

Rain Soaked Wounds

Here's another hoes. Take it, it's very personal though cause I wrote it in a time of sadness in my life. Sorry if you don't like it lol

TW: Speak of chronic illness and death

Summary: Dodge is walking in the rain and reader sees him, then forces him to come inside so they can clean him up.

“Dodge! What are you doing here?” The tall teen stops in his trail and looks back to me, hood over most of his face. The thundering rain caused me to squint to even see him.

“Just having a stroll.” He shouts.

“It’s pouring!”

“I uh, I know.” I had already run out of the house, water gushing over my head and seeing the dye drip out of the ends of my hair.

“How long have you been out here!”

“Maybe an hour.” I look down thinking for a moment then back up, I gesture for him to follow me.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get sick, come in and warm up.”

“Y/n, I’ll be fin-”

“You can follow nicely or I can drag you, you decide.”

His body was soaked head to toe, lips blue. I rush to take off my jacket and shoes, already shivering from the cold outside. Dodge stands there in the door way.

“You can just throw off your shoes there and hang up your sweater. I’m gonna make some cocoa, do you want a cup?”

“Yeah sure.” I hear his shoes hit the floor as I walk into the kitchen, filling up the kettle and taking out 2 mugs. “Where’s your grandma?”

“With my aunt. Probably buying groceries or at the doctor’s.”

“She goes a lot, at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, she has a chronic illness so she’s sick all the time.” I turn around to see him sitting at the table with his sweater on still, head down.

“You’re gonna freeze.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hiding something. Did you chop your hair? Hmm? What happened Dodge?” I try getting closer to him.

“It’s nothing, just leave it.” This time I catch a shine of blue on his face.

“Dodge. What happened?” My teasing tone now gone and replaced with a mother hen one.

“It was just Ray.” I come up beside him, my hand grazing his cheek, then around it pushing his gaze up to mine. Under his nose was a smear of red, his left eye covered in bruises and his right brow split.

“What did he do?”

“Just a warning by him and his goons.”

“Where was it? In the alley way, I’m assuming.” He nods yes.

“Well, we should get you cleaned up.” I walk off to the bathroom to find the first aid kit and then back to the kitchen, turning on the overhead light.

“You’re gonna want to take off your sweater. I can put it in the washing machine if you want?” I ask, I watch as he peels it off himself. His hair stuck to his forehead, water droplets everywhere.

“Everything on your body is soaked dude.” I comment.

“Walking in the rain would do that to you.” I eye him up and down, socks, pants, even his under wear was probably drenched.

“Let me grab some clothes for you.”

I push open the door to my room.

“No really it’s fine. Dodge gets up and follows me, I jog up the stairs and go into my room.

“Honestly your clothes probably wouldn’t even fit me.” I dig through a pile, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. I stand up and put the waistband to him.

“They should fit.” I give them to him, then run downstairs to the clean laundry basket still unfolded. Finding my old Nirvana shirt and then returning upstairs.

“Got the shirt!” I look up, Dodge standing there with no shirt on and his jeans almost off. My brain turns off for a second, admiring his chest which was covered in dark purple bruises. I turn around, shirt still in hand and close the door.

“Sorry.” I yell through the door. It was a few moments until I heard the door open. I spin to face him and stick out the shirt to him. He takes it and throws it over his head.

“I didn’t uh realize you were changing.” I mutter out, he shrugs.

“You’re good, Dayna does it all the time. Although, how do your clothes almost fit me?”

“Well, there are days I hate my body and use baggy clothes to make me feel better. Plus, mens have better pants that don’t have fake pockets.” A whistle sound shoots through the house

“Water’s ready.”

“Where should I put my clothes?”

“Oh, I’ll take them and you take the kettle off the stove.” He nods and passes them to me.

‘This poor man, I literally walked in on him almost naked.’ My thoughts run as I put his clothes over the side of the tub to drain a bit.

“Do you want milk in yours?” I hear him shout.

“Yeah, just a little bit though!” I answer before returning to the kitchen. Dodge sitting at the table, sipping his warm drink. I take my mug and walk over. Opening the kit that was laying there.

“Y/n I’m fine.”

“Shush.” I lay out gauze, tape, scissors, bandaids, whatever. I roll up my sleeves and approach him, the bruise wasn’t swelling to the point of a closed eye. The cut on his brow wasn’t too deep therefore not needing stitches. I take a cloth and dab some alcohol on it before running it under the sink to dilute it.

“Did you just put water over rubbing alcohol?”

“Yeah, hydrogen peroxide or alcohol can delay healing and cause more injury. I need you to pull your chair out a bit.” He moves back from the table.

“This might hurt.” I press the cloth to his wound, gently patting and rubbing, looking and cleaning up dirt or dried blood. I get to the deeper part of the cut and feel Dodge grab at my arm. He lets out a hissing sound, eyes closing at the feeling.

“Not so badass now are we?”

“You would flinch too.” I chuckle a bit before moving down to clean his nose.

“Good news.” His eyes meet mine as I press my thumbs into his nose to feel it.

“One, you don’t need stitches which is great for me cause I’ve never done them and two your nose is not broken.”

“That’s surprising.”

“I’m guessing Tyler threw that punch?” I ask, Dodge smiles before nodding. I turn around, grabbing some bandages plus ointment.

“You know I’m gonna have to look at the bruises on your sides right?”

“They’re fine, they don’t hurt.”

“Dodge. You know I’m stubborn, you’re really gonna try to fight me on this.” He sighs and I finish putting the bandaid over his brow.

“Do I get a kiss to feel better?” He jokes, I place my hands on his face and very lightly kiss the band aid.

“Now your booboo will heal faster.”

“So what I’m seeing is I have to get injuries to get kisses from nurse y/n?”

“Depends on the severity. Don’t want to have to bring you to the hospital. Now stand up.” He does so and lifts his shirt. 2 bruises in total, 1 on his hip and the other on his ribs.

“Can you inhale for me?” I press my hand to his side, he does it no problem.

“Okay, no broken ribs, which is great.” I grab a marker.

“What are you doing?”

“We don’t have an x-ray machine therefore this is the closest way I can detect internal bleeding.” I circle both bruises with the red sharpie. “If the bruises pass over the line then you need to go to the hospital, if not then we're good.” I explain, he puts his shirt back down.

“How do you know all this?”

“Just stuff I picked up over the years, I’m surprised you don’t being a horse trainer and all that.”

‘Well doctors were always there or provided.”

“I hope I made your first vigilante patch up nice.”

“Am I Batman?”

“I see you more like Robin or Jason Todd.”

“Everytime we speak I always feel overshadowed cause you have a general in-depth opinion on everything.” Dodge says while I clean up. I laugh a bit.

“That is what happens when you have no friends, however I know nothing about cars.”

“That is true.”

“I like doing the dip sticks.” Dodge laughs.

“Can you even read it?”

“The stick?”

“Yeah, can you?”

“No.” He bursts out laughing.

“Thank god you don't have your license yet.” I scoff as I sit down.

“I patch you up, take you out of the rain, give you hot chocolate and this how you thank me?”

“Hey. I drive you home from the diner all the time.”

“Touche.” A silence falls between us as we finish our drinks.

“Why is it so cold in your house?”

“My nana likes it to be freezing. She hates the warmth.”

“Doesn’t she get cold?”

“Yeah but it takes a lot for her to notice.”

“Must like this weather then.”

“Actually no, she hates the rain. Makes her bones ache.” I peek out the window and see drops still falling from the sky.

“You’re gonna walk home late at night, in the pouring rain, and might not even be able to get in your house?” He seems to think about it for a moment.

“Where’s your car?”

“At my house, my mom drove me today.”

“So why were you walking 'back'?” I use air quotes knowing he was not walking in the direction of his house.

“I didn’t want Dayna to freak, so I was walking until I knew she would be asleep.”

"Well, it’s still raining out.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yeah but not until after 12.”

"Stay the night.”

“I can’t.”

I run upstairs and open the closet. I come back down with a clump of them in my arms.

“All I’m saying is you can stay here for the night and then not only will you be dry but I can also check on your wounds in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t your grandmother be upset?”

“Nah, she knows I’m not an idiot and she’s with my aunt anyway so you don’t have to worry about her scaring you through the night.”

“Fine but only cause it’s raining.”

“Yeah a sleepover! I can grab you some blankets.”

“Okay. We got a thick pink flower, a thick brown native, an old sleeping bag, and a very small thin pattern. Which blanket do you want?” I drop them on the floor, letting him look at them.

“Uhh, I’ll take the brown one.”

“Cool, I threw up on it more than once.” He looks at me grossed out.

“Dude obviously it’s been washed, it just has memories. You’ll be fine.” I take the others aback upstairs.

“Does your grandmother leave you alone a lot?”

“Yeah. She takes care of my family a lot plus she’s got her own stuff going on.”

“You know a lot of people talk at the diner?” He seems to lightly ask about the rumours.

“Yeah, like my aunt is faking it because she eats sweets in front of people?”

“Yeah.” He lets out almost mournful.

“Well, now that it’s anyone’s business but she is sick. She’s been like that since I was little and cause of it she knows how to hide it.”

“She and my mom talk a lot when she comes in. Plus, she always leaves a tip for her coffee. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her and your grandmother then I wouldn’t have had the cash for new tires.” I smile and nod.

“I don’t know why people talk about others.”

“We are a small town with nothing to do.”

“I guess.”

“You know people talk about your mom and Cornelius.”

“Really?”

“Yup. He is seen talking to her, his wife is still grieving over their son and he’s deeply concentrated on Panic.”

“Do you talk?”

“About your mom? No. She’s nice and I feel like it’s not my place or business. Plus, I don't trust any police so I keep my mouth shut.”

“Why?”

“A lot of stuff has happened to my cousins and family members. One time my cousin was arrested because they thought he was my dad.”

“Wait-” Dodge begins before I cut him off.

“Just wait. They thought my 19 year old cousin was my 2 year old then dead dad. They had to bring the death certificate and everything so they could let him go.”

“Wow, That’s uh.” He didn't finish but I knew what he meant and I nod.

“I never knew your dad died, I know you and Heather joke about your dad’s being gone but.”

“Oh yeah, it happened when I was younger.”

“I’m sorry.” I shrug my shoulders, having had this same conversation several times over.

“Oh, it’s chill. After 10 years you learn how to cope.”

“10 years?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t even in grade 1 . But enough of that. You wanna watch something” I could tell he was getting uncomfortable so I quickly change the topic.

“Sure.”

[one-boring-person]

@theghostof-myndi I'm so sorry this has taken such a long time to write! I hope it was worth the wait, though!💛💛💛

Are You Paid To Say That?

Kevin Richter (Trapped In Silence) x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, mental illness/challenges

A/N: Im really sorry if this isn't as good as you were expecting, I find the characters quite difficult to write, but I've tried my best. I wasn't really too sure where to take this, so I hope thinks ok.💛💛

Masterlist

"How're things going with Kevin?" I inquire as I walk with Jennifer out of the building, pulling my coat tighter around my body as the icy winter air surrounds us, biting at my heated skin.

"Well, I thought they were going well, but he had another outburst today, so I think we might've been set back a bit." The shrink admits to me, adjusting the box in her arms, making the bits and bobs inside clatter against each other.

"Another outburst? How come?" I frown a bit, knowing that this particular patient can be violent at the best of times, concerned now for the older woman's safety.

"I'm not entirely sure this time. We were talking about meeting more people his age, when he mentioned something about seeing a girl around here...hang on, how old are you?" She asks, looking over at me curiously.

Lifting an eyebrow, I quickly respond.

"I'm seventeen."

Realisation seems to dawn on her face as she hears this, knowing that there are, in fact, no other younger workers in the institute, and definetly none that work with the more challenging patients.

"What?" I question when she continues to start at me in amazement.

"I think he was talking about you, (Y/n)." Jennifer reveals, frowning to herself as if thinking something over in her head.

"About me? He doesn't even know who I am, and I don't think he's ever seen me before." I protest, thinking back to the fragile, highly volatile boy currently residing in the Quiet Room.

"Maybe, but the description he gave matches you pretty well." She informs me, smiling gently at the look of genuine shock on my face, "I'll ask him more about it tomorrow."

"Ok, thank you." I respond, not knowing quite how to react to this information, waving a little as she walks off to her car, leaving me standing in the cold to mull over what I've heard.

*

Jennifer's hurried footsteps echo through the corridor as she approaches me, eyes intent on me, clearly needing to say something to me, prompting me to break off the conversation with the security guard I was having so that I can greet her. When she sees this, she speeds up a bit, hair blowing past her face with an air of importance.

"I was right, (Y/n), it is you that he meant." She blurts out as she reaches me, eyes filling with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy as she regards me.

"What do you mean? Who are we talking about?" I ask her, though I have a feeling I know where this is going.

"Kevin. I showed him a picture of you and he took it from me. He seemed pretty attached to it, and went ballistic when I asked him for it back." She informs me, leading me away from our original spot, back the way she came.

"Kevin? Are you sure? I might just look like someone he knows." I try to reason, feeling a dull sense of fear as she drags me down the corridor, my eyes wide at the idea of going to see the troubled boy.

"Oh, I don't think so, (Y/n). He's drawn out pictures of everyone he want to remember, and I've spoken to the remaining members of his family: there is no way you just remind him of someone. I've been working with him for a while now, I know his habits." She clarifies, leading me down a more secluded corridor, towards the main office, at which point my fear fades into curiosity.

"Are you sure?" I ask one last time, looking away guiltily when she sends me a pointed glance, "Sorry, you know better than I do. Where are we going?"

"Right here." She gestures with a smile to the door we've stopped outside of, knocking just below the sign determining the owner of the room: the head of the institute.

Eyeing her curiously, I remain silent as we wait for him to respond, following her hesitantly when his voice sounds from behind the door. Respectfully, I stand just by the door as she goes inside completely, waiting there as she speaks with Dr Tomlinson, staying quiet as I let the older members talk with each other.

"Jennifer? What do you need?" The doctor greets her, sending a cursory glance at me, before returning his eyes to her.

"I want someone to help me with Kevin's case." She states, excitement creeping into her voice at the thought, clearly eager to keep up with the therapy.

"You do?" Dr Tomlinson looks surprised, eyes widening at her words, my own quickly fixing on the back of Jennifer's head.

"I do. I think it could really help him socialise better, and he'd get to speak to someone other than me for once." She nods enthusiastically, smiling to herself, as if aware of somehow we're not at liberty to know.

"Ok. I guess I can ask around, though I doubt many people are rave enough-" The doctor starts, only to be cut off by Jennifer, who is shaking her head at his words.

"No, don't worry about that. I already have someone in mind." Confusion and curiosity flood me at this, my mind instantly trying configure out who she could be talking about.

"Oh? And who is that?"

"Well, it's (Y/n) of course."

It takes everything I have not to faint.

*

"Don't worry, (Y/n), you'll be fine. He's not as bad as everyone makes him out to be." Jennifer reassures me as we get ready to enter the therapy room.

Trembling in nerves, I shift from foot to foot as I think through what I'm about to do, well aware that this is only the second case I've ever worked on, and that he doesn't have the greatest reputation. On our way over, Jennifer had given me a rundown of what she knows of his backstory and old living conditions, explaining that she had managed to get him to talk and communicate, but also that he is highly volatile at times, my trepidation and dread just building up the closer we get to the room. Now that we're here, a cold sweat has broken out over my forehead and skin.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just haven't really done this too often." I confess, feeling it important she know that I'm not an experienced worker here, reminding her that I'm only a volunteer who helps out here and there.

"Oh, right, I forgot about that." She frowns, reconsidering as she recalls this, "If you don't feel ready, you don't have to come in. I'm not going to make you."

Taking a deep breath, I decline her offer, biting my lip as I then follow her into the room.

My eyes quickly find the hunched figure in the corner, his messy hair matted and dishevelled, skin pale around his face except under his eyes, where deep purple bags have formed, though the blue-green irises that briefly flick up to greet us are sharp and probing as anything, homing in on my presence instantly. His muscles go rigid, eyes remaining fixed on me even as Jennifer and I move furher into the room. Awkwardly, I hold eye contact for a few seconds, before dropping my gaze with a blush covering my cheeks.

"Good morning, Kevin. I brought along someone to help us with today's session, that ok? This is (Y/n), the girl in the photograph I gave you a week back." Jennifer introduces us, setting the box of items on the table in the centre as I gingerly step forwards, looking up again.

"Hi, Kevin. It's nice to meet you." I say to him, not expecting anything back as he keeps staring at me, only to feel slight fear when he suddenly surges to his feet, scrambling over to the table. Once there, he grabs Jennifer's box and starts rooting around in it, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pencil seconds later, his movements erratic and rushed. I watch in fascination as he seats himself and starts drawing something, expecting us to do the same.

Looking at each other, Jennifer and I do the same thing, a brief flare of surprise lighting inside me as Kevin moves to sit directly opposite me, rather than across from me like he was before. Quietly, I pick up a pen and paper and start sketching, listening to Jennifer as she makes conversation, answering the correct questions and interacting where necessary.

The hour passes quickly, by which point I've managed to finish the drawing I started, sitting back to look at it, before noticing that Kevin is, in fact, also watching me, eyes flicking downwards towards the sheet of paper, almost as if in questioning. With a smile, I push it over the table towards him, offering the drawing to him with little confidence. He picks it up off the table, holding it up so he can see it properly, finger tracing one of the lines, folding it and sticking it in his breastpocket without a second thought.

"Hey, Kevin. That's not yours to take." Jennifer reminds him, looking at me apologetically.

"Oh no, it's fine. You can keep it." I assure her, addressing the last part to him.

He nods at me, not making eye contact.

*

A few months on, and Kevin and I have actually managed a conversation, the boy no longer too shy or distrusting of me, feeling mostly comfortable around me when in therapy. Jennifer has yet to leave me alone with him, thankfully, though I've overheard her talking to Dr Tomlinson about Kevin requesting for me to have a session alone with him, something which I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with.

Even now, as we read through another of Jennifer's books, it surprises me when he shuffles over to sit beside me, his body incredibly close to mine, as if with the intention of touching each other, but not quite doing so yet. I have a copy of the book open in my lap, giving him a perfect view of the text, as well as my crotch, which draws a small squeak out of me when he goes to turn the page for me, his fingers gently brushing against my jeans, his hand retracting as quickly as I sink back into the seat, neither of us saying anything.

But even after this, it takes a good two months more for Jennifer to finally decide that I'll be safe on my own with him, as long as there are guards outside, and either Dr Tomlinson or herself nearby to help out in case anything goes wrong. At first, I'm sceptical, but eventually I realise that my presence in the room seems to be what keeps him calm and collected, meaning I'm the perfect candidate to look after him alone.

I was wrong to be worried.

A soon as I step into the room, Kevin has stepped up to me with a broad smile on his face, soemthing which always makes me happy to see, making me smile back at him as he eagerly leads me to a place on the floor in the corner, where he sits me down. Taking his place beside me, he rummages around in the breast pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a dog-eared piece of folded paper, silently handing it to me. Opening it, I feel my jaw drop at the sight of it: it's a portrait. Every aspect is drawn perfectly, giving it it's realistic quality, though it does surprise me that he'd draw me of all people, seeing as he knows Jennifer much better. In my head, I remember what she said about him drawing pictures of everyone he cares for.

"This is amazing, Kevin! Is it for me?"

He nods, a smile crossing his face as he shuffles closer, pressing the side of his body against mine.

'Thank you. I really appreciate this." I thank him, starting when I suddenly feel his cold fingers brush against mine. Absentmindedly, they trace their way into my palm, interlocking our fingers together as he moves ever closer. Smiling, I lean back furher and pat my chest, signalling for him to lay there, which he is only too happy to do, his arms wrapping tightly around me, face buried into my midriff as he holds me close to himself.

"I have a crush on you." He suddenly states, voice muffled through my shirt.

For a moment, I don't know what to say, shocked that he feels this way about me.

"Jenny said I should tell you." He testifies, snuggling closer, before pulling back slightly to nose at the bottom of my jaw.

"You have a crush on me?" I ask once more, biting my lip when he assents, "That's helpful, beacuse I have a crush on you, too." I decide just to spit it out, looking to him for a reaction.

"Really? You actually like me? Or are you just being paid to say that?"

"Kevin, I'm a volunteer. I don't get paid at all.

"So, you actually mean it?"

"I do."

[hallospaceboyy]

Hey. Although you wanted fluffy or smutty thing, I can't myself to an angsty Zelda x Reader request, I'm sorry. Reader gets cursed in front of the whole Spellman household and is turned to stone/a monster or anything. (I adore beauty and the beast, shushh.) The thing is: true loves kiss doesn't work and Zelds nearly loses her mind. You may decide if it works later on or not. Have a wonderful day, thank you for reading this and don't feel pressured to do it, 'cause it is quite specific. xo

Stone Cold

You hadn't told the Spellman's about the curse that was slowly taking hold of your body, coursing through your veins, sucking life from your every limb. Your pride stopped you, convinced yourself that you could handle it, find a way to reverse it. But you couldn't, and every hour it got worse, and when you barge your way into the mortuary, your hand is grey, the flesh hardening, and you can’t move it. You can feel your skin tightening, pain coursing up your arm as it spreads, faster by the second. Zelda marches in from the kitchen, mug of tea in hand, and she drops it abruptly, ignoring the shards of china that litter the floor, gasping in shock as she sees you stood there clutching your arm.

“Zel-Zelda...” You whimper, and she rushes to you, strokes her palm over your wrist, hand trembling at the roughness of it. It's stone - hard, grey stone.

“What-Y/N sweetheart, what's happening?” Her voice is urgent, shaking with panic, and her eyes are filling with tears, your legs are rigid now, and you can feel it spreading higher and higher, moaning in pain.

“C-Curse. Thought I could f-fix it.” You let out a strangled sob, and Zelda strokes your face, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m scared.” Then, just like that, you’re gone, and all that remains is a statue, and Zelda releases an animalistic shriek, clutching at you and sobbing, shaking at your hardened figure, desperate for you to move. She falls to her knees, shaking profusely, unable to stop the noises bubbling in her throat, and then Hilda is beside her, tears in her own eyes as she takes in the scene, takes Zelda into her arms.

“We'll fix this Zelds, it’ll be okay.” She sniffles, and Zelda pushes her away roughly, standing on weakened legs, clutching at the rough stone of your arms, your shoulders, your face.

“Please come back to me, baby. C-Come back to me! I need you!” She screams, her whole body wracks with sobs, and she presses a salty kiss to your lips in desperation, crying against you. The stone is rough against her lips, but she doesn’t care, presses them there with a bruising force until Hilda gently pulls her away, and the redhead collapses in her arms.

*

Weeks go by, to no avail, book after book perused by all of the Spellmans, but nothing is found. They manage to move you to into the parlour despite the weight, and Zelda sleeps there when she does sleep, curled on the sofa with a single pillow and thin blanket. She barely eats, but Hilda brings her food anyway, chain smokes her way through the day, downs tumbler after tumbler of whiskey, savouring the burn in her throat.

She's weak, and exhausted. There are black circles beneath her eyes, her hair hangs limp, has barely washed it, let alone taken the time to style it to its usual perfection. She doesn’t bother to cover her pallid skin with makeup, her sallow cheeks, pale lips, and her clothes hang loosely from her body. She sticks to your side, talks to you as she skims through dusty volumes, ignoring paper cut after paper cut that stings at her fingers from the desperation of her page turning. She knows you're still in there somewhere, can feel you, and she won't give up, refuses to give up until she has you back.

With her refusing to leave your side for more than a few minutes, she sends Sabrina and Ambrose to the Academy to use the facilities there – they come home with arms piled high with books, handing them to the redhead and sit in silence, helping her with her research. Occasionally they glance at her, concern etched on their features. Zelda is making herself ill, constantly jittery, losing her mind in her search, and their worry for her far exceeds their worry for you, despite the circumstances. But they don’t say anything, can’t broach the subject with her, know they will only get their heads bitten off. Their Aunt's temper is unusually short, shorter than normal, and they don’t want to risk alighting her already short fuse.

It's late, and Zelda sits in the dark save a single lamp by her side, sitting rigidly on the sofa, eyes skimming the pages with lightning speed despite her bone tiredness. The book in her hand is old, so very ancient, and her hands shake as she finds the section on curses. It's there. The curse that turns someone to stone. The counter curse is there too. She let’s out a cry of relief, then a strangled sob, and Hilda was always close by, keeping an eye on her sister, and she all but sprints into the room, shuffling in her slippers. Zelda is hunched over the book, shoulders shaking.

“I-I've found it Hildie, I’ve found it.”

Hilda breathes a sigh of relief, sinking to the sofa beside her, and she wraps an arm around her sister, gently slides the book from Zelda's lap to her own.

“We'll do it now then, yeah? Let's get your girl back.” She sends Zelda a watery smile, kisses her temple, and Zelda lets her.

*

You crumple to the ground, gasping for breath, and air fills your lungs, sweet, musty air, and it feels so good to feel your lungs expand in your chest, to feel your heart beating again – to feel something, anything.

You look around the room, eyes unfocused, blinking rapidly, and then they do focus, and Zelda is lying on the floor, splayed there, eyes closed, and you crawl to her, tears gathering in your eyes.

“She’s exhausted, love. The counter curse took it out of her.” Hilda places a warm hand on your back. “She'll be okay, in a few hours.” Hilda gently moves her, lays her on the sofa, placing a blanket over her thin form. You move to sit on the floor beside her, resting a hand over hers.

“I'm here, Zelda. I’m not going anywhere.” Stroking her hair from her face, tears fall down your cheeks.

“You must be starved, love. How about something to eat.”

You nod, but remain gazing at the sleeping redhead. “I’m not leaving her, though.” You whisper, and Hilda hums, squeezing your shoulder.

“I didn't think you would. I’ll bring you something.” She hovers then, mouth opening as if ready to say something, and you look up at her, eyebrows raised. “She's barely left your side once, you know. We thought she was digging herself an early grave. Didn’t eat, didn’t sleep.” Hilda blinks back tears, and you squeeze Zelda's hand, brings it up to kiss the back of it.

“I know.” You inhale a shaky breath, eyes searching Zelda's pale face. “It's my turn to take care of her now.”

“Well, don’t overdo it. You have been stone for the last three weeks.”

“I feel fine, Hilda. Strangely.” You send her a reassuring smile, and she nods, making her way to the kitchen.

*

Some hours later, you’ve eaten, and feel almost normal again, if a little achy, and you remain latched to Zelda's side, hand firmly clasping hers. Your eyes dart up as she squeezes back, and her eyes flutter open. She smiles tiredly, tears already filling her eyes.

“You came back to me.” She whispers weakly, and you grin through your own tears, stroking her cheek.

“Of course I did. Thanks to you. I hear you’ve been killing yourself over it, you silly witch.”

She chuckles, trying to blink away her tears, and you crawl onto the sofa beside her, and she shifts over to make room, draping an arm over your waist. Her face nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your scent, and you feel her begin to shake, hold her tighter.

“I thought I was going to lose my mind. It broke me, not being able to help you.” Her voice is thick with tears, and you stroke her back, shushing her comfortingly.

“It's okay, Zelds. I’m here now. You did so well.” You rock her slowly in your arms as she cries, kiss her temple, pepper kisses to her hair. She's so warm, feels so good against you, and you never want to let go of her again. You can’t help but think if you had just asked for help, swallowed your pride, this could have all been prevented, and you’re wracked with guilt. Zelda feels thinner, seems a shell of herself despite her relief, her happiness at having you back, and you vow to nurse her back to health – bring your Zelda back to you.

“I love you. I'm so sorry.” You bury your face in your hair, closing your eyes, and with a whisper you’re both lying on Zelda's bed, and the redhead clings to you, looks up at you with watery eyes.

“I love you too, my darling. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She presses a salty kiss to your lips, and you return it, stroking her cheekbone with the pad of your thumb.

“We’ll discuss that later. For now, you should get some more rest, and then eat something.”

Zelda nods, although there's concern in her bloodshot green eyes. She rests her head on your chest, and you can already feel her becoming heavier against you as she falls asleep, hand grasping at your waist.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

BTS Reaction: When You're Sick

Requested: yes! By @thebooksapphire thank you for the request love, I hope you like this^^

BTS Masterlist ← find all my works here lovelies~

a/n: fourth BTS reaction everyone, so guess what?: (~•.•)~.... anyways, I hope you guys like this one! I was sicky this week so I needed this 🤧 the Lord himself is the only reason I got this one done 🙏

*I do not own any of the gifs, credits go to rightful owners*

KIM SEOKJIN:

Oh. Oh no. you're beautiful sir.

"Please just let me take your temperature Princess. It'll only take a second, I promise." Jin sighs sadly when you whine and turn away from him for the third time in the past five minutes. Your husband sits there for another minute, then gently touches your shoulder and whispers into your ear, "I made some soup for you love, I know you're hungry. Just let me take it first." You stay silent, debating, and Jin smiles. You shift your body until you're facing him again, your face is sweaty and exhausted looking, he smiles at you sadly and takes a piece of your hair that was stuck to your forehead and tucks it behind your ear. There's a question in his eyes and you nod slightly, he sighs in relief and brings the thermometer past your lips, putting it under your tongue when you open your mouth.

After about twenty seconds you hear a beep and Jin takes the thermometer out, squinting at it to see the numbers.

101°F / 38.3° C

He frowns and stands up, you reach out and grab at his hand weakly, "Jin," you croak out, and he turns back to you, "where are you going?" he leans down and kisses your forehead before saying, "I'm just gonna get that soup and some medicine for you, ok love? I'll be right back." You nod and he squeezes your hand gently then sets it down and leaves the room.

A few minutes later Jin comes back in carrying a tray; a bowl, a glass of water and a bottle of medicine are sitting on top of it. He sits at the edge of the bed after setting the tray on your nightstand and helps you sit up on the pillows that he piled up for this specific reason. You've had the flu for about a day now, your husband found you yesterday when he got back from the studio, while you were in a sweaty exhausted heap on the bed. He took a few days off to help you get your health back, which you were so thankful for as he helped you move to a sitting position, seeing as you didn't think you'd be able to do it on your own at the moment.

Jin puts some pills into your hand and guides you to put them in your mouth, helping you swallow them with a drink of water. Then he spoons out some broth and starts to feed it to you–which you eat eagerly.

He smiles at you as you keep eating, not having had a decent meal in at least a day. "I love you Jin, thank you baby." Your voice is starting to come back a little and he smiles even wider, "I love you too Y/n, now keep eating, we need to get your strength up."

Jin was the most caring husband you could've ever asked for. Being sick was horrible, but when Jin was taking care of you it made it a lot more tolerable.

And you can be sure that he'll have a lot of good dad jokes up his sleeve to cheer you right up.

MIN YOONGI:

may...may I please hug you?

You reach over to the tissue box next to you miserably, taking yet another tissue out and blowing your nose for what felt like the hundredth time today. This was not how you wanted to spend your weekend at all, but you'd caught the nasty cold going around and were forced to stay at home; watching movies, blowing your nose, coughing, and wallowing in a blanket of misery and sickness.

Suddenly your phone rings and you pause the show you're watching and grab your phone. It was your fiance calling–probably because you had been avoiding all human contact for the past twenty-four hours–and he most likely thought you were dead, which you might as well be. You answer it and don't even try to sound less than miserable.

"Hello?" Your voice is cracked and broken, sounding just as bad as you feel.

"Y/n? Honey are you sick?" Yoongi's voice sounds worried on the other side of the phone and you nod tiredly, then realize he can't see you so you squeak out, "yeah I am, it's just a cold though." He's silent on the other end for a second then says, "can I come over then?" You wait another minute to answer since you started having another coughing fit, then when you can breath again you hold the phone to your ear, "no baby, I don't want you to get sick. I'll be fine in a few days." Yoongi is silent again, then you hear some movement on his side. He keeps shuffling around until finally he says, "ok baby, I'll be there in about ten minutes ok? Love you." You start to protest but he hangs up before you can get much in, "Yoongi, no. Don't co–Yoongi?" You look at the phone to see he's hung up already. You sigh and drop your phone on the couch, pulling the covers up around you even more.

A little later you hear a knock at the door. You squint at it then remember that Yoongi was coming over–somehow your fogged up brain completely forgot about that. You stand up and stumble to the door to unlock it–your legs all wobbly from not having been used for a while now. When you open the door Yoongi is met with you standing there; hair in disarray and no makeup, watery eyes and a pink nose, wrapped up in a blanket. He tries not to laugh but can't help it when a small smile slips out, you were still the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. You frown at him but open the door nonetheless to let him in, and he walks in holding a small bag. You gesture at it with your head, the only part of you not covered in a blankie, "what's in there?" He walks over to the couch and sits on the spot that isn't littered with your many a used tissues. You waddle after him and sit next to him, "I told you not to come over Yoongi, I don't want you to get sick." He just shrugs as he pulls stuff out of the bag, "does it look like I care about getting sick? I want you to get better and I don't want you to be alone. Now, here is some cold medicine, it's the best I've had, it really works. Here's some more tissues, and also some snacks to cheer you up." After he's pulled it all out he sees your eyes start to water, "you ok, Y/n? You gonna sneeze?" He shifts away a little, as if you were about to sneeze all over him, and you start to laugh then smack him, "no, you idiot. I was touched by what you did for me." He grabs your hands that are smacking him and laughs, "ok ok, sorry, now let's get this medicine into you."

After you've taken the stuff he brought for your cold you snuggle up on the couch again, and Yoongi pulls you close despite your protests. The both of you snack on the food he brought and put on the drama that you two are currently watching together.

You'd be better in a few days, but right now really wasn't too bad. Min Yoongi could always make things better for you couldn't he?

JUNG HOSEOK:

I had a rough day, this gif made everything okay again. Thank you Hobi

"Are you sure Y/n? Maybe we should take you to the doctors." Hoseok looks at you anxiously, seeing you slightly pale, curled up on the couch. You shake your head, "it's just the stomach flu Hobi, they can't do anything for me." Your boyfriend nods miserably and strokes your arm, he knows that always calms you down. You'd thrown up twice that day, but thankfully you weren't throwing up right now. You suspected it was one of those twenty-four hour tummy illnesses, and you knew you'd just have to stick it out. Going to the doctors wouldn't do much but have them confirm what you already knew, you were sick. Whenever you were sick, the best thing to help you was to distract you from the pain. So Hobi would try different things to get your mind off of it.

He'd already danced and joked around like a goofball for you and had you smiling like an idiot, but now you were both worn out. You had your eyes closed and Hobi had laid a light sheet on top of you, since you'd been switching from feeling hot to cold all day long. Earlier, Hobi had fed you some broth and had you nibble some crackers while sipping water. With a little something in your tummy you felt a bit better and now you were trying to relax while Hobi was reading a book out loud to you. His fingers brushed lightly up and down your arms as he read softly. Soon you start to drift off, but something keeps jerking you awake again. Hobi notices and sets down the book, crawling around to lay next to you, as he continues to trace patterns on your skin.

"Hobi?" he hears you whisper weakly, he moves to sit close to you but hasn't lied down yet, "yes, Jagi?" He whispers back, rubbing your shoulder gently. Your eyes are slightly open as you turn to look at him, "thank you, for everything."

He lies down next to you and whispers, "I love you baby, try to get some sleep now." His soft fingers going along your arms and the warmth of him next to you makes your eyes flutter closed once again, and soon you drift off to sleep. Hobi stays next to you while you sleep, to make sure that you don't wake up again. You don't, and eventually he starts to fall asleep as well.

He'll definitely be there when you wake up, and you can be sure he'll think of whatever he can to distract you while you recover. Which definitely includes lots of cuddles and a good movie.

this was so short, I'm so sorry, but honestly it's one of my favorites, Jhooope :((

KIM NAMJOON:

*scrambles frantically to grab the kiss*

Namjoon is extremely smart, everyone knows it. But when his new wife catches a terrible cold he seems to throw all knowledge out the window and replace it with complete and utter panic. This is what you find out after you've caught a really bad cold, now lying in bed with a pounding headache and a stuffed nose, making it hard to breathe like a normal human.

Namjoon rushes into your shared room once again, arms full of tissue boxes, medicine, and a bunch of random stuff that you have no idea where he got it from.

"Namjoon honey," you can't help but laugh at his frantic self. He looks at you wide-eyed, "yes Y/n? Is there anything else I can get you? How are you feeling? What can I do to he-" You cut off his rambling with a wave of your hand, he shuts right up and walks across the room to sit on the side of the bed when you wave him over.

He sets all the stuff he was carrying on the floor and takes your hand when you reach for his then you clear your sore throat, "Joonie, you have helped me so much already. You got me food and blankets and look, some tissues and medicine now. Thank you, for everything. But, now I just wanna cuddle my husband, is that okay?" He nods and you see his dimples make an appearance, causing you to giggle and pinch his cheeks. Before he gets into bed with you he grabs the cough drops and a box of tissues from his stash, and makes sure you take some medicine for your headache. Then he climbs clumsily over you to sit next to you. His long legs give him trouble trying to crawl across you and it makes him take a second before he's finally situated comfortably. You can't stop laughing until he's done, and he blushes at your teasing. He hands you the cough drops which you take gratefully, then he pulls you into his chest to snuggle.

"Are you feeling any better babe?" You smile at his concern and turn your head to look up at him, "yes Joonie, thank you." He just smiles and hugs you tighter; squishing you against his hard chest, which you love when he does that.

"You're the best husband ever," you whisper after a few minutes and you swear you can feel his blush and shy smile when he kisses the top of your head and whispers back, "I just want to take care of my beautiful wife, I love you Y/n."

"I love you too Joonie."

PARK JIMIN:

*is thrown to the floor from overwhelming feels and uwus*

You hadn't been able to sleep all night long, tossing and turning for hours. All of your bones felt like they were breaking and all your muscles were sore. It was in the wee hours of the morning when you gave up on sleep completely. You had no idea what was going on but whatever it was, you wanted it to stop soon.

At about nine in the morning, you lay there contemplating life and sickness and death as your body feels like it's shutting down. You hear a bling and it takes all of your strength to sit up and grab your phone, seeing a text message from your boyfriend.

Hey babygirl, how did you sleep last night?

You laugh bitterly and type out a reply with your stiff fingers,

I didn't. I don't know why I feel so horrible right now.

Jimin responds right away, your chest feels achy and tight and you take a few deep breathes, then you smile tiredly at his text,

Aww, my poor baby, I'm gonna come over after work today, is that alright?

You message back that you'd definitely like him to come over, then you try to close your eyes for at least an hour of sleep. You'd already called in sick to work, so you didn't have to get up for a while. You lay there and try to ignore the achiness of your stiff muscles and the headache that's starting to creep it's way in.

A few hours later you wake up to your front door opening, you feel groggy and disoriented and you hate it. Jimin walks into your room quietly and smiles at you sleepily watching him as he makes his way to your bed. He sits on the side of your bed and leans towards you, putting his hand gently on your forehead. "Baby, you're burning up." He gets up and walks to the closet where he knows you keep medicine and stuff, he digs around until he finds your thermometer and then he comes back to your side. He slides it across your forehead, stopping at your temple and holding the button down until it beeps. He looks at it and shakes his head, "you have a fever Y/n, how are you feeling now?" You squint at him and try to move but your sore neck causes you to wince and just croak out, "ah ow, I feel like I just ran a marathon, gosh, it's so hot." You shove the covers off of you with all you can muster. Jimin's eyebrows are furrowed in concern and he pets your head before telling you to stay put. You must have passed out again because when you open your eyes once more everything is blurry and Jimin is just coming back into the room. He's holding a wet rag, a glass of water and some medicine. Jimin comes over and sets the cool wet rag on your forehead before coaxing the pills into you.

You start to shiver after a few minutes and Jimin puts your covers back on you, you wince again from the aches spreading across your body. "The medicine will kick in soon, don't worry baby," Jimin keeps stroking your hair and then he starts to hum one of your favorite songs. The medicine does start working eventually and you finally relax as Jimin keeps up his ministrations. You keep fading in and out of consciousness but Jimin stays right where he is.

He doesn't plan on leaving, not until you're fully healthy again. He smiles down at your sleeping figure, "I love you Y/n, feel better soon."

KIM TAEHYUNG:

Ya know, God wasn't f*ckin around when he made Kim Taehyung.

It was a stupid idea to go out without a jacket when there was a giant rain cloud looming overhead, and you knew it. But, you had to get out and see your boyfriend. Today had been awful, you got into a nasty fight with your friend and you wanted nothing more than to just be held by Tae. Of course you should've known you'd get rained on, but to be fair you thought you would have made it to his dorm before it got too bad. Turns out you were wrong.

You're still a few blocks from the boys' dorm and completely soaked. You shiver uncontrollably and keep hugging yourself tightly while you walk in the pouring rain. You had run out of your house so fast that you didn't even grab your purse, which had your subway transportation card in it, so you had to walk. Thankfully you had your phone in your pocket, but you didn't even call Taehyung before you left. You just prayed that he would be home when you got there.

Finally you walk up the steps leading to their dorm. You knock on the door and try to stop shaking, already feeling your nose stuffed up and your throat raw. Jin opens the door and looks at you in shock, "Y/n? Come in, quickly. Why on earth are you out there without a jacket, at least?" Jin opens the door wider for you and gestures you inside. You walk in and take off your wet sneakers, your socks are beyond saving as they are soaked too. Jin hands you a pair of slippers to put on after peeling your socks off. "Th-thank you Jin, I was s-stupid and forgot a coat. Nice day for a w-walk though." You try to laugh it off and he just shakes his head playfully at you. Then you both look up at the sound of a bedroom door opening and someone hurrying out. Tae walks over to you smiling, "Y/n, I thought I heard your voice." When he reaches you it seems to finally register in his brain that you're sopping wet. His face changes to one of worry and he grabs your hand, "baby, your hands are freezing, what happened?" He leads you to his room and closes the door behind you two. Tae hurries to his closet and rummages around in it until he comes out with a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie of his. Then he brings them over to you, "put these on love, I'll be right back." He hands them to you and closes the door behind him when he leaves, giving you privacy to change–which you do quickly–finally nice and warm in his comfy clothes.

Tae comes back and smiles at you in his clothes, he gives you a warm pack that he heated up, so you can warm your hands and cheeks. Then he has you lie down to cuddle with him and tell him what happened. You rant to him about the fight with your friend and he hums in understanding at the right parts of your story. After you finish you tell him you think you caught a cold from the rain, so he hugs you tightly and says, "I'm sorry you had a bad day love, I'm gonna take care of you now, ok? Let me help you feel better."

And with warm food, medicine, and lots of cuddles, that's exactly what he did.

JEON JUNGKOOK:

Can I please just...just hold his hand? :((

You were over at the boys' dorm. Playing Mario Kart with Jungkook and Tae, and doing a pretty dang good job at it if you do say so yourself. You'd beaten both of them at least once and you were gonna sneak up on the two of them for a third time, when you started to feel a little sick. You just assumed it was from playing so long that you got dizzy, but you stopped trying so hard and settled for third place. Then you opted out of the next round, much to your boyfriend's dismay. Tae seemed to want to stop after the next round as well, saying he was bored and wanted to do something else. Jungkook shrugged it off and said he'd just play Overwatch since you both abandoned him.

You had been feeling a little iffy since the night before but you hadn't let yourself dwell on it. Getting sick was one of your biggest fears, especially throwing up. So you kept distracting yourself while you laid on Jungkook's bed. Tae had left to find something else to do and Jungkook was extremely invested in the level he was currently playing. You felt your stomach turn again and willed yourself not to panic, think about random things Y/n, stay calm. When you start to panic you usually have a method of calming down; picking out random objects in the room and describing them to yourself.

But you needed to throw up, now. No talking yourself out of this one, so you jump off Jungkook's bed and run into his bathroom, closing the door behind you and making it to the toilet right as you start to gag. Jungkook was alarmed when he felt your sudden movement and he had paused the game right away. When he heard you throwing up in the bathroom he waited until you stopped, then knocked on the door softly. "Y/n? Baby can I come in?" He heard you whimper and took that as a sign, he opened the door and walked in crouching down next to you by the toilet. You had your head in your hands breathing shakily, "J-Jungkook," he brushed your hair out of your face, "yes, babydoll?" You tried not to cry, you really did, but you couldn't help it when a choked sob escaped your throat, "I'm s-scared. I d-don't want to throw up." Jungkook took your hands in his big ones and held them tight, "I know Jagi, but it's gonna stop, yeah? It won't last forever." You nodded and held onto his words with every ounce of your being, but soon enough you were bent back over the toilet, throwing up once again. Jungkook held your hair out of your face and whispered soothing words to you as he rubbed your back with his other hand. After a good twenty minutes of on and off throwing up, you make your way out of the bathroom, your boyfriend helping you walk. You keep insisting that you need to go home or he'd get sick, but he won't hear of it and makes you lie in his bed. "I don't care about anything but you right now Y/n," after he tucks you in he leans forward and kisses your forehead to see if you have a temperature, which you definitely do.

Jungkook goes out to get Jin to see what he should do and after talking to his eldest hyung he makes his way back to you and does everything he can. Pretty soon you've been given water, crackers are on his sidetable for when you're hungry, there's a bucket next to the bed in case you need to throw up again, and a cool rag is on your forehead. Jungkook is lying next to you and stroking your hair softly, whispering to you about the random objects in his room, and telling made up stories about where they came from and how they were made. You end up falling asleep and Jungkook follows soon after, Jin is out in the kitchen making some soup for you which Jungkook will feed you later. Being sick was terrifying for you but Jungkook knew what to do to bring the panic back down, and you couldn't be more grateful.

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

a/n 2.0: thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it my loves <3 I wish I had BTS to take care of me rn lmao. I'm sick and this was a biatch to post. It's after 4am, I should sleep, but I can't :')

[mischievouspoltergeist]

When my mother got sick last year, someone asked me why I had such an issue with taking care of her (as I'd expressed I really didn't feel like I 'had' to or owed her that much as she had never taken care of us ever, let alone when we were sick, but that I intended to try anyway) since I called her my best friend (supposedly, at some point, I believe I probably did, it was something she made me say at family gatherings a lot).

It's taken almost a year and a whole lot of shit for me to answer that question: I was stuck in an abusive relationship with my mother and the only way to survive was to make myself believe we really were friends. Because if I let myself realise she really didn't care about me, I could never have sorted in my head why I did everything she wanted, why I went along with so much and why I stuck around.

In many ways, the pattern of abuse was identical to my relationship with a man who had narcissistic personality disorder (diagnosed, aware of it and chose not to engage in help). Except, I left him after four months, but for at least three of those I was kept on a string of believing I was the problem whilst he screamed in my face, bullied me and physically abused me.

My relationship with my mother lasted 23 years. For many of those years I was still a child. I was so easy to indoctrinate with ideas and beliefs that I was the root of all the problems in her world. I went with it. I've spent years feeling like I ruined my mother's life because that's what she told me. I've spent YEARS trying to make up for what I did by being born because that's what she told me to do.

It's led to me growing up to become a vulnerable adult. When I think someone loves me, I think their opinion about me must just be right. Because surely someone who loves you wouldn't tell you were a fat whore unless it was true, right?

It was so easy to dodge questions like 'why do you put up with her if she literally is so rude to you all the time?' with a 'idk. She's my best friend' because don't best friends speak every day? Don't best friends do things together constantly? Don't best friends scream at their best friend when they haven't spoken to them in 5 hours? Don't best friends kick and shout and scream when you say you're busy and can't do anything that day?

My friends witnessed many incidents with my mum and would ask, incredously, why the fuck I hang around her when she spoke to me that way, and it would just be a shrug. It was easier to go along with it than fight it. Fighting back meant being screamed at and frightening displays of controlling behaviour. It was as simple as if I hung around my mum daily, the abuse was at around 30-70% severity dependent on her mood. If I ignored her for a few days, then the abuse was at 80-100% severe. Imagine going to spend the day with someone who is going to yell at you every time you speak, put you down at every chance, find an insecurity and dig and dig and dig. So you avoid that by letting her abuse you just a bit less daily.

I was dependant on my mum for much of life's little things and she made sure of that. It's been hard and relying on my friends to help me is difficult and scary because I'm so used to it coming with a cupful of abuse. I'm always on edge, waiting for it to blow up in my face.

I also just don't know where to draw lines thanks to my mums abuse. How much abuse is too much? My chart is way off. I will keep trying cos god, the size of the cup of abuse my mum fed me daily was absolutely huge compared to the abuse I've ever had from others. Someone could say one nice thing about me and abuse me the rest of the day and that would still be less abuse than my mother dealt me.

I made so many excuses for her. She admitted fully she never wanted me from the start - my dad wanted me but when I was born, he changed his mind and got a job so she had to put her life on hold and so I ruined everything. I was a problem from the start because I was female, and that meant I was going to be abused in her eyes, so she detached herself (was she ever attached?) rather than even attempt to protect me. I excused her for that. I first shouldered the blame for why she hated me when I was 6/7 years old and she told me about her own past. The grand irony is that had she been watching, had she cared to pay attention, I would likely not have been abused. The grandest irony of all was that my biggest abuser was her.

I still catch myself excusing her. 'Oh I always went silent after she screamed at me for daring to ask her not to be nasty towards me. Maybe I could have spoken up more.' even though I know logically that only made things worse. I remember once asking her if I could remove the furniture from my bedroom when she was away (so I could store it in her room) so that I could remove the black mould growing all up my windows, my walls and (as I later discovered), all up the sides of my actual bed and mattress. I was so ill all of the time and my breathing was a mess. I could smell it all the time, it was so overwhelming and although I cleaned what I could, due to my bedroom being a closet, I couldn't get behind anything without removing everything. She said no. No reason, no explanation, just no. Like most things that benefitted me. I was incredibly frustrated and begged that I could barely breathe for mould, she screamed at me that I deserved it and it was my fault. Black mould had been a persistent problem in that room long before I moved into it, as she had lived there before and seen it. I finally raised my voice and told her I wasn't going to accept this blatant disregard for my health and I was going to do it next time she was away anyway. I was paying rent at that point but it did not stop her getting up and getting in my face and telling me to get the fuck out her house. The third or so time she had kicked me out. There was no reasoning with her. She liked it when I suffered.

She is a narcissist through and through and I have been suffocated by narcissistic abuse for 23 years. Even now, she attempts to abuse me via my brother and father and even the government. She has lost her victim - the last person willing to take her shit. Most her family and friends are not willing to help her for more than five minutes as she treats them unkindly when she realises they will take it and stick around. I've watched her do it, and it just gets worse and worse for those people like it did for me. But they leave, because it has not been 23 years for them.

I don't even know where I'm going with this. I'm just... Through. My dad accepted my ultimatum and chose me. It's a weird feeling and a promise I hope he can keep. I know she asks him for information and I have told him to stop giving it to her repeatedly.

To those who think a mother deserves for their child to revere them permanently just because they birthed them... You're wrong. It is our actions and choices that shape our relationship and at every choice, my mother chose to act in her own interests with no care for anyone else. This is a woman who let a man beat her children whilst bragging to them he'd never hit her cos he knew she'd leave. I gave both my parents chances to mend our relationships and believe me, my dad was an appalling parent growing up. He was atrocious. But he decided he wanted to mend that relationship and he wanted to be a dad. Yes, it's sad he didn't realise it sooner but I'm happy for the relationship I have with him now, even if it's not perfect and he really doesn't know how to dad sometimes. My mum? My mum will still tell you it's my fault she finished her degree a year later than she wanted because I was born and I ruined everything 23 years ago. I dared to be born female and put that stress on her. She holds it over my head like it is my responsibility to fix. It has broken me. I've spent 23 years trying to make up to her the faults of my being born and nothing will ever, EVER be good enough to do that. I have given all I have to give. I literally have nothing left to give.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Carly

Ali: Happy New Year, shortcake! Ali: You still alive? Carly: Same to you, baby Carly: Have fun? Carly: im hanging on you kno Carly: got my guitar out & everything Ali: I don't even know how to put it into words Ali: Magical Ali: awh, you using your death rattle as percussion Ali: about that Carly: yea? Carly: i wish id been there Carly: i miss you Carly: & your magic Ali: baby 😔 you poor thing Ali: of all the times to get mono Ali: i'll bring you chicken soup when i've recovered enough to go in the kitchen without retching Carly: that good of a night tho Carly: love it Carly: i dont want you to get sick baby Ali: plague parcel Ali: keep your bodily fluids where I can see 'em 😉 Ali: it really was Ali: Cavante was there Carly: w his bf or latest gf? Ali: Neither! 😍 Ali: Well, Drew might've been about but busiest night of the year for him like so couldn't be up in our business Carly: didnt text me the prick Carly: i kno im sick but im still hot Carly: how much business did you get up to w your boy tho? Carly: you his now or Ali: how rude, coulda offered to medicate you Ali: make a killing, think on lad Ali: I dunno, I don't know what it was Ali: but I'll be sad and surprised if it was just last night, like Carly: & he kno he benefits whenever im this bored Carly: your loss lad Carly: baby dont be sad Carly: hes wanted you for ages theres no stopping him now Ali: He's a fool, straight up Ali: [Sends their tattoo pic] Ali: Gotta be some sort of promises, right? Carly: wtf Carly: thats a claim Carly: divorce is on the cards for us cos hes trying to marry you himself Ali: Never Ali: wifey 4 life Ali: not just 'cos we can't afford the fees Carly: but wheres my tat bitch? Carly: I been putting in the work Carly: hes done 1 night shift Ali: you want one? Ali: only gotta ask boo Carly: make him beg did you Carly: nah Carly: too little too late girl Ali: aw, don't be like that Ali: I didn't know you wanted to get inked Carly: im no type of way idk Carly: write him on you if you want its no big Ali: Yeah but its clearly more of a deal than I thought it'd be Ali: talk to me, I wanna know what you really think Carly: do you have my black shoes Carly: i gotta find them Ali: Carls Carly: what Carly: thats what im thinking Carly: im bored of being here Carly: i need to go out Ali: are you well enough, you were at death's door like, yesterday Carly: idc Carly: this is no fun Ali: no but neither will be collapsing as soon as you have one drink, like Carly: i wont ask you to pick me back up its alright Ali: Don't Ali: Lemme come over, we can have fun there Ali: you don't need to do this Carly: i need to get out of this fucking caravan Carly: so nah Ali: okay Ali: fresh air isn't the worst idea Ali: where you gonna go Carly: idk idc Carly: someone will be about Carly: in their garden throwing up or pissing out last night if nothing else Ali: Can I come? Carly: why Ali: well, 'cos I wanna see you Ali: also make sure you don't die in a ditch, like Carly: i kno my way around Carly: how far you think im gonna get like Ali: I know Ali: for my own sake then? lemme be selfish Carly: he not let you do what you wanted then? Carly: aw Carly: didnt think cavante would be like that Ali: I don't think you wanna know really Carly: i do kno Carly: magical yea Ali: You're mad? Carly: nah Ali: We're good? Carly: i said i wasn't mad not that idc Ali: What can I do to make it up to you? Ali: I didn't go out with that intention but I also didn't know that it would do this Carly: who goes out w intentions Carly: did you kno he was gonna be there? Ali: Nah Ali: I didn't know where I'd end up, even Carly: k Carly: least you hooked w someone who would treat you nice Ali: You know I like him Ali: but that doesn't negate how I feel about you Carly: k but you like him so much if he wanted to be w you id be gone Carly: loyal vibes we kno Ali: I don't know, that's the truth Ali: not gone, ever Ali: but it might be different, yeah Carly: youd friendzone me i kno Carly: ive done it Ali: is that such a bad thing Carly: theres no need for me to answer that Carly: the fact you asked it shows what you think Ali: i'm just saying, friendship is underrated Ali: and i'm not thinking or saying anything for definite Ali: idk, my head is fucked Carly: you arent until he does Carly: done that too like Ali: that ain't it Carly: im not stupid ali Ali: i know you ain't Ali: but we've already talked so i'm not waiting on no one but you Carly: cuz he said no Carly: is that how it is Ali: no Ali: he said to hit him up when i know what i'm doing Ali: do you actually think i would do that Ali: i'm just trying to work out what we're doing Carly: idk Carly: i just kno how much you like him Ali: yeah Ali: but i like you too Carly: & i like you too Carly: but he doesnt want me babe Ali: No Ali: jesus Carly: unfuck your head Carly: use the stash or anything else you need Ali: i know Ali: i know i need to Ali: i'm sorry, yeah? Ali: i'm gonna sort this Carly: dont be sorry Carly: or sad Ali: how can i not be Ali: i don't want to hurt you, ever Carly: its done babe Carly: forget it Ali: nah Ali: its fucked up Ali: i am Carly: nah youre not Carly: only if you didnt care Carly: but you do Carly: & youve been so good to me Carly: you are being now Ali: i'm not going to stop Ali: if you still want me to Ali: i love you no matter what, okay? Carly: i kno Carly: i love you too Ali: i'm gonna sort this, i swear Ali: can i drop off some chicken soup and stuff at least Ali: i won't come in if you don't want Carly: i want you to Carly: but i meant what i said i dont want you to get sick Ali: i'll be careful Ali: i wanna take care of you Carly: but i dont wanna be careful me or you Carly: i want you to kno how much i love you Carly: i dont like that he gets to be w you that way & i dont Ali: I know baby Ali: for the record, I don't care if I get sick but Ali: I don't want you to feel like you've got something to prove Carly: but i do Carly: you like us both Carly: i want you to want me more than him Ali: Babe, its not that simple Ali: Wish it was, like Carly: what can i do then Carly: tell me how to make it simple Ali: If I find out Ali: I'll let you know Ali: its me though Ali: no self-pity bullshit or cliche about it Ali: just facts Carly: do you love him Ali: I mean Ali: too soon to say, yeah? Carly: yeah or nah Carly: i kno you kno Ali: yeah Carly: k Ali: but i love you too Carly: i get bi means two Carly: but i dont think it works like that Ali: I know Carly: yea dont come over if itll fuck your head up more Ali: idc Ali: only if it'll fuck up yours Carly: i do Carly: i care about you Ali: you're gonna make me cry Carly: sorry Carly: we should get out of our heads Carly: not gonna unfuck them like Carly: but will help Ali: 'til we have to deal with it in the morning Ali: january 1st, yeah, good a day as any to attempt to sort our shit Carly: yea Ali: That said Ali: wish you were better so we could get outta here Carly: me too Carly: where do you wanna go? Carly: i can make it im strong Ali: let me spirit you away for some sea air Ali: that's how they kicked it if you were dying back in the day Carly: we could get your ex to drive us Carly: 3s a party Carly: dont mind making her sick since she aint about me Ali: 🙄 sure, lets rent a mini-bus and make it a reunion of all the former flames Ali: I've got money for the actual Ali: wanna go down Malahide? Carly: serious? Ali: why not Ali: i don't reckon you'll actually drop down, like Ali: and gotta keep making good on my promise to take you away from here Ali: even if its only half an hour down the road Carly: lets go Carly: ill leave my ma a note not that shes bothered where i go any other time Ali: buy her a stick of rock Ali: if she's really arsey she knows where to stick it Carly: ha Carly: idc what she thinks Carly: ill be sick wherever i am Ali: May as well have a view that ain't the inside of your room Carly: & have fun w my baby while i still can Ali: no while about it Ali: we're always gonna have fun Carly: but hes gonna move into my time & fun Ali: hmm Ali: maybe a smidge, not going to make promises I can't keep Ali: but not all of it, THAT I promise Ali: I'm always going to have time for you, Carls Carly: promise Ali: fucking promise Ali: you're still my girl Carly: & youre mine Ali: hell yeah Ali: on some forever shit you and me Carly: new year but same us Ali: you know it Ali: ain't a resolution to lose you, nah Carly: you gonna ink me then Ali: can Ali: if you want to Ali: ideas? Carly: idc Carly: do what you want Carly: i trust you Ali: okay Ali: challenge accepted Carly: i kno youre up to it