#im not even returning it like I planned to

[kryptznnn]

♛- Come back to bed

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ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

➸ INTERESTS; -jjk! nanami kento x f!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; -not any plot truly, just straight smut, making love late at night MY FAV!! (im a whole virgin)

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.2.4k, kissing, teasing, riding, fingering, p in v, nipple play, sucking, whining, bla bla bla

➸a.i; - omg new oneshot!! i made a poll asking who i should write abt this morning and 100 votes came in for my sexy baby daddy so im here to feed u guys!! xoxo

.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖

You awoke in the middle of the night to your phone ringing softly, the vibrations from it on your nightstand making you get up. As you turned to grab your phone, the call ended, you only muttered to yourself as you were now sat up in your bed. You held your phone in your hand, realizing the call was from your close friend and checked the time.

1:13am, you read with a squint, still trying to adjust to the dimly lit screen this late at night.

There were only two reasons as to why she could call you this late. She was either having intrusive thoughts about breaking contact with her ex, or she was calling to tell you how drunk she was at her apartment, and she wants you to come and accompany her. You stood up, grabbing your soft silk robe from your closet door and stepped out of the room.

You made your way over to the kitchen, dialing her number back and waiting for her to answer. You grabbed a water bottle and opened it when she soon answered. Rambling on about how drunk she was and how much fun she was having, saying she didn't want you to miss out on it and for you to come over to her place, you only smiled and shook your head.

"It's past 1am, I was asleep when you called, you need to get some sleep too unless if you don't plan on clocking in later." You spoke, drinking from your bottle as you listened to her ramble, sadly it's as if she hadn't heard a single word you said.

She was always like this honestly; you couldn't blame her. Between the two of you someone had to be outgoing and crazy enough to do things like this. You could never be mad at her for it though, it was sweet honestly, even when she was intoxicated, she always had you in mind.

The conversation between the two of you soon wrapped up, as she assured you, she wasn't alone and was with her brother. She even facetimed you as proof and to which you spoke to her brother for a while. Thankfully he was a little more responsible than she was, assuring you that the night had ended, and the drinks were being put away so his sister could rest.

You only thanked him and wished him a goodnight, as he did in return to you and you said goodbye to your friend, waving as you heard the call click. You finished your water bottle and went to place the bottle in the shared recycle can you had in the kitchen before feeling two firm arms snake their way around your waist.

You only smiled, knowing exactly who it was as you were used to this multiple times before. You placed your hands over his arms and squeezed, earning a tired grunt from him as he bent down to kiss the top of your head.

"If you weren't my fiancé I would've screamed when you touched me y'know?" You joked, feeling him smile against the top of your head, he let go of your waist as you let go of his arms and he placed his hand in yours. He soon guided you out of the kitchen and back to the shared bedroom you two had, the dim lights from outside helping you to see his figure perfectly.

Your fiancé was a well-kept man, perfectly built as if sculpted by the gods. Honestly, even as a woman you were envious of his body, but when compared to others you were considered lucky, very lucky. So, you couldn't push it too much, because they were right, you were lucky.

"Come back to bed" Kento spoke, now entering your bedroom and sitting on your side of the bed where you were previously resting. You only smiled at him as you placed your phone back down on the nightstand, he never let go of your free hand, pulling you near him.

"You're such a flirt" you said to him, watching his every move. He only hummed in response and kissed your palm as you made your way on top of him, straddling him now. His other hand made its way to your lower back, now keeping you in place as his kisses traveled higher, from your palm to your arm and now your shoulder, not removing his eyes from yours.

You looked away nervously, feeling a familiar tingle in your lower belly, you knew exactly what he was doing. He soon placed his hand from your lower back onto the back of your neck, slowly bringing your head down to kiss him passionately. It felt nice, he felt nice, you couldn't complain, nor could you just turn or look away from him, you were captivated by him.

You were the first to pull away, your breathing heavy as you looked at him, he still kept his hand on the back of your head. He only pushed your head back for your lips to connect yet again, but not kissing the same as before. It was wet and sloppy, your tongues practically fighting-

no,

Dancing with one another, and it only made the weak feeling within your lower belly stronger as he moved his hands, now gripping both sides of your hips as he kissed you eagerly. You quickly pulled away, covering your mouth and wiping out of embarrassment as a small line of saliva dripped from it and down to your chin.

He only looked at you with a cheerful smile, loosening his grip on your hips and began to tug on your robe, wanting it to come off. In all seriousness, you weren't even properly dressed, without the robe you only had on a small black tank-top and red panties.

You let go of him for an instant, taking off your robe and tossing it, he smirked in approval. As you straddled him again you could feel him underneath you, the friction becoming unbearable as he continued to rub himself against one of your most vulnerable places. Well not him genuinely speaking, it was his co-

"Can I play with you baby? Just for a little while?" He asked, looking into your eyes and then your lips for an answer. You responded with a 'yes', soon after biting your bottom lip and watching his movements. Now seated in the middle of the bed you two shared he began to kiss your skin above your collarbone while you grinded on him, both of you partially clothed and breathing heavily.

He had gone to bed with nothing but his boxers on, but now he was threatening to take them off in one quick move, unable to bear the teasing anymore. His hands roamed your body, teasing your nipples through your top as you mewled softly, grabbing his wrist softly as you guided his hand lower to your now wet spot on your underwear.

Throughout the time of your twos dirty work not a word was spoken to one another, well, barely. You had known each other's bodies well enough and exactly what you craved, Kento knew this and quickly got to work, unbuttoning the one small button that was practically ready to burst out from his erection, letting it spring out free.

When you moved back a little to look at it, it looked like he was in pain. Like painfully hard, honestly this wasn't the first time, but it was sweet seeing how you had him this intense every time, he never seized to amaze you. He began to tug at your underwear, to which you got off the bed, standing up as he watched your every move.

You bent over, hooking your thumbs into the hems of your underwear where they sat nice and pretty on your hips, shimmying a little as you pulled them all the way down to your ankles and stepped out of them. You slowly made your way back onto the bed and on top of Nanami once again, who only looked at you in awe, and maybe hunger.

You only cupped your hands on both of his cheeks before kissing him again, this time he kept a hand on your hip as another one found its way to your core. He cupped it softly as you jolted slightly, feeling his middle finger brush against your clit. He smiled into the kiss, placing his thumb over your clit and rubbing it gently, feeling the vibrations of you grunting and moaning in his mouth.

You pulled away, keeping a hand over your mouth yet again and his own mouth as you felt him insert a finger inside you. Immediately pushing up into you as far as he could, watching as your shivered slightly, and removed your hand from his mouth, moaning into your hand. He soon removed his hand from your hip and grabbed your wrist, removing your hand from your mouth and kissed your palm yet again.

Within a short period of time, you felt an immense amount of pressure build up inside of you, making you immediately want to shut your legs. (Un)fortunately, your fiancé had already caught onto this, quick to hold one of your legs apart as he now quickened his pace, smirking at you.

He soon grabbed a hold on your tank-top after you promised to not close your legs, lifting and revealing your hardened nipples to him and the cold air of the room. He chuckled to himself slightly as he stuck his tongue out, teasing you and watching as your back arched before sucking on them and inserting another finger.

You quickly grabbed onto his shoulders, now riding his fingers as you were trying your best to reach your high and quickly, knowing he wouldn't let you cherish this bliss moment for long. He soon began to lick your upper torso, the sweat beads that rolled off your body were his to consume, as if your entire body was a drug he was high on.

It was as if you had jinxed it because just seconds before you were ready to cum, he quickly removed his fingers from within you, keeping his thumb on your clit and coming to a full stop in movement. Before you were even able to stop your moans and begin your whining and protests, he aligned his cock with your entrance.

Without warning or count he quickly thrusted himself inside, halting and burying himself within your chest as he moaned along with you, your nails now digging deeper into his shoulders. You had completely forgotten how vocal Kento was, damn near as vocal as you, and you loved every moment of it.

"No condom?" You gasped, now playing with his hair as he kept his head between year breasts, slowly moving inside you. He only shook his head slightly, bringing his head back up and looking you in the eyes and kissing you.

"You're to be my wife, no? Whatever my wife wants she gets." He only stated, now thrusting sloppily into you as you moaned. You attempted to bounce back on him while he thrusted into you, just for him to wrap both of his arms tightly around your bottom and thrust into you even harder.

Now repeating his earlier actions and sucking on your nipples, watching as you unraveled within his arms, only getting more turned on by the sight. His mouth now moved to your neck, giving you several hickeys and wet sloppy kisses.

As he quickened his pace you tapped his chest lightly, feeling the same blissful feeling as before coming back, your lower abdomen feeling as if it was floating while the rest of your body was hot and shaking. He only smiled, taking this as the most perfect time to tease you.

"M'gonna get you pregnant. It's what my wife wants, yeah? My baby is gonna grow right here..." He teased, placing his right hand on your belly and rubbing it as you mewled, nodding your head before you bent slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. Your high was approaching with great force and speed, barely able to contain it anymore.

"My beautiful girl is gonna be a mommy, are you excited baby? You excited that I get to fill you up?" He cooed, now rubbing your back with one hand and placing the other over your lower abdomen, pressing down slightly as your moans became louder. You hummed in response, nodding vigorously as your high had approached, exclaiming loudly, biting down on Kento's shoulder to control yourself as your body spasmed.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head for only a moment, soon after you came down, your breathing ragged. His thrusts had now slowed down, becoming sloppier than before as he began to breath heavier, his orgasm not far behind from yours.

As verbal as he was before he wasn't that way now, focused on reaching his orgasm as he screwed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths. As your head rested on his shoulder you too began to moan aloud and grunt softly, his thrusts overstimulating you as you had just come down from your orgasm.

You quickly began to clench around his cock, attempting to make him reach his high sooner, which worked. He buried his face alongside your side as he huffed, muttering a series of words, words of praise if you will, before completely reaching his orgasm. His last thrust sent shivers down your spine as he came inside of you, not leaving a single drop to waste, staying inside of you for a moment before pulling out and kissing your shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asked, as you pulled away, looking at him and smiling, nodding to him as you brushed his hair away from his face, that had to stuck to his temple from his sweat. He smiled softly at you, seeing your tired expression and actions before fixing your side of the bed to sleep before joining you on his side.

You two exchanged little to barely any conversation between drifting off to sleep, his arms wrapped around you as you rested on his chest. You both had thought of the idea of cleaning up in the shower or changing into new clothes, but you were too exhausted to do so.

The last thing you can vividly remember before drifting off to sleep was how you were going to hide the love bites and hickeys he had given you before work the following morning. Scarves or giant sweaters weren't even in the question as it was the middle of the summer, and you sweat easily.

You'd find out when you got there.

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[justkillingthyme]

honestly i agree with your fags on the post abt randall. even tho im not a fan of him i think ppl are too hung up on his actions as a teen versus the issues with him in the actual present day story. it would be interesting to see more of your take on him bc i agree hes one of the more complicated cases even if my opinion on him is pretty negative

Cracks my fucking knuckles. I want to preface that my take on Randall is heavily influenced by someone else and that I haven’t played MM in forever. I’m going off my shit memory and vibes here.

Randall, as a teenager, is incredibly emotionally immature. He’s reckless, selfish, doesn’t take other’s feelings into consideration, etc. That much is true. Personally I think he has audhd which contributes to his lack of awareness on other’s feelings unless there’s an outright display. He’s passionate and wants to display and get others into his interests. He drags Hershel along on adventures, gives him puzzles, etc. We don’t know enough about their relationship to say exactly how this all started or anything, but Hershel notes in his journal that he does actually like adventure. Even if Randall is forcing him to come along, it’s not entirely one sided.

Hershel has his own problems with self expression and his identity, none too helped by The Trauma. He seems pretty weak willed, backing down when Randall presses, but we do see him speak up for Angela. He is capable of saying no and being stern, but he does usually go along with what Randall does. Because he likes it. He likes adventure and puzzles and exploring.

At first going to Gressenheller was a tribute to Randall’s lost future, but if he truly hated it, he wouldn’t act the way he does in the present.

I think Randall has a tough time with boundaries. Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. That, I believe, can also be attributed to his childhood. (Disregarding conflicting information), Randall is an only child that grew up in a wealthy household. His father seems to be somewhat cold with him, and his mother (at least during MM), seems to be coddling in the way Angela and Henry turn out to be. He grew up with Henry as his best friend. Henry his servant who isn’t allowed to do anything but what Randall wants.

He’s got a one track mind, and everything else gets pushed to the side. Other people included. He doesn’t consider that Angela might be upset with him until she’s breaking down and comparing Randall to her brother. Even then, he comforts her just enough for him to return to his task. Hershel calls him out here, because he’s being an ass. Henry stepping in de-escalated the situation, but I don’t think he was planning on actually stopping post-Akbadain. Impulse control is at an all time low at 16-18 years old, and he hasn’t stopped attention seeking behaviors. Adolescents also have a personal fable, the belief that consequences won’t apply to him. He thinks that he will be the exception.

This again brings us back to his father. A good portion of Randall’s desire for greatness stem from feeling insignificant. He wants to prove himself, whether that be to his father or others in town, not mentioning that Dalston feeds into those feelings. His feelings on Henry (that his father likes Henry more) are totally fucked, but it’s just how he perceives it. He wants to be worth it, and he wants other people to see him as worth it.

I think even if he got out of Akbadain alive, the glory wouldn’t be enough for him. Once you attain your goal you’re always going to be dissatisfied etc etc. He’s the kind of guy to always want more.

I’m going to put the present day stuff in a rb I think. This was pretty long already

[stanskissing]

You're literally perfect omfg

Ford sees Stan getting face-fucked by a teacher behind the bleachers when he's going for his usual and gets even more pissed and takes it out on Stan, making him drink rubbing alcohol because 'he's not worth the diseases Ford could get from his dirty fucking mouth', says Stan's only gonna graduate because of his lip service, and if Stan even wants to think about Ford forgiving him he'll stop letting anyone but him in his mouth. Stan can't afford that - but Ford makes him give up on the idea of graduating. Then when he fails and Ford graduates like they both expected Ford still leaves, leaving Stan with nothing but a sore jaw, blue balls and a panic attack

call me perfect againand i',m bending you overANYWAYS. genuis. loving this au whatever youd call it. obsessed even. i lvoe ou.

first part !

fored guuilting staninto only sucking himoffYYEAAAAAGID . ANON. IM SO NOTFUCKIGN NORMAL BAOHTTHIS I KEEP COMING BACK TO READ IT AND MAKE SOMETHIGNF ROYU BUT I CRASH OUT EVERYT IME I LVOE EVI FORD I LOVEVILFORDIVLVOE. sorry. anyways. ahem.OokayGO!..................ghghnoohhsorry i came again okayGO!!!!!!!

ford knew that stan wasn't doing this with just him, obvioisly, how else would he have found out about his little hustle but when he actually. sees. him with another mans dick in his mouth. physical proof of it he gets so fucking mad. the rough treatment growing ever worse and ford is so distraught so much of it comes from the fucking agony that is not waking up with stan in his life and also how he will aways be fuming over stan ruining his future and they've been taufht that boys don't cry so his only outlet is spitting insults at his brother and throat fucking him till he can't tell what;s excess saliva and what's tears on his brothers face

and stan just takes it. all the verbal abuse and the hair pulling and the things ford makes him do bevause its ford, he ruined ford life, this is the least he can do to make up for it, even if that means sacrificing his only chance at a future just to take a little bit of the edge off of ford's harsh voice. he doesn't care that he can;t graduate, it doesn't bother him when his brother's six fingers are buried in his hair and all he can smell and taste and hear is ford evenif it hurts to breathe afterwards he doesnt care, because this way he stillhas ford, right?

WRONG! ford still leaves. he doesn't say goodbye, either, he never planned on staying. he knew stanley was to naive and desperate that he'd tell stan anything just to get the taste of another man's cock off his brothers tongue becuase he knew deep down he could not hanfle the though of stanley wanting anyone but him and even if he told himself he hated his brother, and thats why he was doing this, he still had to wipe tears from his eyes when he left jersey for good

and stan breaks when ford's gone, it nearly kills the guy. he laughs about it the night he realized ford wasn't coming back to him for anything anymore. he destroyed ford's chance at a decent future, and in return ford took his away. sigh. L bozo got played by his brother. ok bye. anon send me more asks i wanna crawl into ur ski n

part 3!

[sicknessbysalem]

if it still works with the lore can we get a migraine fic with lex and soren? i have a preference for Lex (im a sucker for characters who have been through so much that they try and hide their issues). Maybe with the prompts “you dont look do good” and “i promise i’m fine”? Im so happy to see them again!

if you have anymore requests, comments, etc., please send them my way!

of course nonny! i love migraine fics!

tw migraines, nausea, vomiting

Lex blinked his eyes open, barely catching the edges of sunlight peeking through the curtains, the faint morning light casting soft, blurred patterns on the walls. Even that minimal brightness was enough to make his head throb, a sharp, pulsing ache blooming just behind his eyes, spreading out in jagged waves that made it feel like every nerve in his skull was on edge.

He let out a low, unsteady breath, bringing his hand up to press against his temple, trying to ease the pain with his palm’s dull pressure, but it only seemed to dig the ache in deeper.

He lay still for a moment, hoping the headache might fade on its own, but the heaviness only deepened, settling over him like a leaden weight. He knew this feeling too well—the telltale signs of a migraine brought on by the season’s fluctuating temperatures.

The chill of dawn was already giving way to a warmer day, and his body had fallen into its unfortunate habit of punishing him for every shift in the weather, as if each drop and rise in degrees had the power to settle under his skin and scrape against his nerves.

With a small, pained sigh, Lex reached over for his phone, blinking against the light of the screen, which only intensified the migraine’s sting. The notifications swam before him for a moment until his gaze landed on a message from Soren, the preview lighting up the screen in a soft glow.

Hey, heading out for errands. Figured you were finally getting some sleep—don’t worry about today. Text me if you need anything.

Lex let out a breath, caught somewhere between relief and frustration. He knew Soren must have noticed the past few nights, the way Lex’s sleep schedule had unraveled into odd, uneven hours, but he hadn’t expected him to head out alone.

The plan had been to run a list of errands together, one of those small domestic routines they’d fallen into recently—a grounding ritual he’d come to enjoy. But the ache pounding in his head was already making everything feel like an effort, and even the thought of leaving the apartment felt like a distant impossibility.

His gaze lingered on Soren’s text, a soft warmth blooming beneath the pain as he read the words again, taking comfort in the thoughtfulness behind them. But even as he closed his eyes, letting himself sink back against the pillow, a quiet sense of determination took hold.

The ache in his head was fierce, and his stomach had already started to churn with that faint, sickening nausea that came with migraines, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him from trying to make something for Soren’s return.

With a careful, slow breath, Lex forced himself to sit up, his movements measured as he tried to keep the nausea from settling too heavily in his stomach. The world tilted slightly as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his vision blurring at the edges, and he closed his eyes, willing the room to stop spinning.

But the pain only intensified, a sharp, stabbing sensation that radiated from the base of his skull to his temples, leaving him feeling disoriented and unsteady.

He glanced over at his nightstand, where his migraine medication sat in its familiar bottle, but the acidic taste in the back of his throat and the way he couldn't even look at his phone for thirty seconds without wanting to vomit or pass out from the sheer pain told him it was too late.

The migraine had settled in too deep, past the point of any quick relief, and he knew that the only way out was the hellish hours of riding it out until the ache loosened its grip. A wave of nausea rolled through him as he stood, his stomach lurching in response, and he pressed a hand to his abdomen, breathing shallowly as he fought to keep the discomfort at bay.

With painstaking slowness, Lex made his way to the kitchen, the dim light in the hallway already feeling too bright, each step sending another ripple of pain through his head. The soft buzz of the fridge, usually a background hum he barely noticed, seemed to reverberate through his skull, amplifying the migraine’s intensity.

He winced, bracing himself against the counter as he steadied his breathing, willing the nausea to settle long enough for him to do something, anything, to feel like he was contributing to their day.

He reached for a glass, the motion feeling sluggish, as though his limbs were weighed down by the feverish ache. The simple act of getting water took on a new difficulty, his hands trembling slightly as he steadied the glass under the faucet.

He drank a few careful sips, the coolness soothing against his dry throat, but the nausea only intensified, a cold, twisting sensation settling low in his stomach.

The thought of making lunch for Soren to come back to tugged at him, an instinctual gesture of care, something that felt grounding and tangible even through the migraine’s haze. But as he reached for the cabinet, the effort of standing became too much, and he slumped against the counter, his fingers gripping the edge as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.

He closed his eyes, the throbbing pain pulsing in time with his heartbeat, each wave of nausea growing stronger, more insistent. Every instinct in him was telling him to sit down, to rest, but the thought of lying back down, giving in to the discomfort, felt somehow like a failure. It was as though a part of him believed he should be able to push through this, to handle it on his own, even as his body protested with every breath.

Another wave of nausea surged, sharp and unyielding, and Lex felt a cold sweat break out across his skin, a chill settling over him despite the warmth of the apartment. His hand flew to his mouth as a small, dry gag escaped, a harsh, involuntary reflex he couldn’t quite stifle. The taste of acid lingered faintly on his tongue, and he clenched his jaw, willing his stomach to settle, his grip tightening on the counter.

The quiet of the apartment seemed to press in around him, amplifying each sound, each subtle shift in the air, until he felt like he was drowning in the silence. His head pounded, the pain radiating through his temples in sharp, searing bursts, and he could feel the familiar panic rising, a quiet, insidious fear that only seemed to make the nausea worse.

Another surge of nausea rolled through him, and this time he couldn’t fight it, the sickness overtaking him with a force that left him breathless. He stumbled back, one hand pressed tightly to his mouth as he tried to keep himself steady, the room spinning around him in dizzying, disorienting circles. It felt like the migraine was clawing its way through him, a relentless ache that refused to let up, and he was left to endure it in the silence, his body a vessel for the pain.

As he braced himself against the counter, he felt a faint buzz from his pocket—a new message from Soren, he figured, the screen lighting up with his name. The sight of it sent a small, fragile comfort through him. But even with the message sitting there, he couldn’t bring himself to respond, the effort of typing back feeling monumental, an impossibility.

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he lowered the phone, the nausea settling like a stone in his stomach.

For a moment, he leaned against the counter, his eyes closing as he willed the pain to ease, the nausea to settle. But the migraine only dug in deeper, and he could feel his strength waning, his body refusing to cooperate.

The nausea twisted in Lex’s stomach, sharp and unrelenting, each breath a struggle as he tried to force it down, to will it away. He braced himself against the counter, his grip tight as though holding on might somehow ground him, give him the strength to push through. But the sickness had dug in, a quiet insistence that pulsed in time with the throbbing ache in his head, a reminder of the migraine’s unyielding grip. Each shallow breath brought a fresh wave of nausea, an uncomfortable queasiness that refused to settle, and he could feel his control slipping, the sickness rising up like a tide he couldn’t hold back.

His stomach clenched, the nausea cresting sharply, and he barely had time to push himself away from the counter before his body gave in, the sickness overtaking him in a harsh, involuntary reflex. He stumbled to the sink, his hand gripping the edge as he doubled over, his stomach twisting in painful waves, each heave sending a fresh surge of nausea through him.

The force of it left him gasping, his throat raw, the taste of acid lingering on his tongue as he fought to regain control, his body wracked with tremors. The relief was brief, a fleeting respite that left him feeling hollow and exhausted, his limbs heavy and unsteady. He closed his eyes, willing his breathing to slow, to settle, but the pain in his head remained, sharp and insistent, a constant reminder of the migraine’s grip.

Lex gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles white, the cold surface grounding him as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again. He let out a shaky breath, his vision blurred, his head pounding with an intensity that left him feeling disoriented, almost detached. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in, and he knew, with a sinking clarity, that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything today. The thought sent a wave of frustration through him, a quiet anger at his own body for betraying him, for making something as simple as standing feel like a monumental task.

Swallowing against the lingering nausea, Lex forced himself to leave the kitchen, each step feeling heavier, his body weighed down by exhaustion. His vision blurred as he made his way back to his room, his surroundings shifting in dizzying patterns as the migraine pulsed with each beat of his heart. By the time he reached the doorway, he was trembling, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin, leaving him shivering despite the warmth of the apartment.

With a weak, unsteady hand, he closed the door, the quiet click echoing in the silence as he shut himself off from the brightness of the outside world. His room was dim, the curtains drawn, but even the faint slivers of light that seeped through the edges felt too bright, too sharp, each glint sending a fresh spike of pain through his skull.

Lex stumbled to his bed, his movements sluggish, his body dragging him down as though every ounce of energy had been drained. He reached for the familiar weight of an old tour sweatshirt, the fabric worn and soft from years of use, a comfort that grounded him in the midst of the pain. Pulling it over his head, he tugged the hood up, the fabric falling over his eyes, shielding him from the light, cocooning him in a small, fragile sanctuary against the migraine’s assault.

As he sank onto the bed, he pulled the blankets around him, tucking them close, the weight a small comfort against the cold that seemed to settle in his bones. He lay there, curled up beneath the layers, his hood pulled low, his body tense as he waited for the pain to ease, for the nausea to settle. But the migraine held fast, each pulse a fresh wave of discomfort, a reminder of the body’s quiet betrayal.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the darkness behind his eyelids a small comfort, though even the faint pressure of the hood felt like too much, each touch, each sound amplified by the migraine’s intensity. The quiet of the room settled over him, thick and heavy, a suffocating silence that only seemed to make the ache in his head sharper, more pronounced. He could hear his own breathing, shallow and uneven, the soft rustle of the blankets as he shifted, trying to find a position that offered some measure of relief.

In the dimness, wrapped in his hoodie with the blankets pulled tight, Lex felt the familiar frustration rising, a quiet, simmering anger at the way his body had forced him to retreat, to abandon his plans. He had wanted to do something simple, something small to show Soren he cared, but even that had been stripped away, leaving him with nothing but the relentless ache and the faint, lingering taste of sickness on his tongue.

-

Soren pushed open the front door, a few bags balanced in one hand as he stepped into the quiet apartment. The air was still, undisturbed, with no sound of Lex’s usual music or the faint hum of conversation they often shared when he got home. He glanced around, half-expecting Lex to be in the kitchen or lounging on the couch, but the space was empty, the silence thick and unusual.

As he moved into the kitchen to set down the bags, Soren noticed Lex’s phone resting on the counter, the screen dark, untouched. A small crease formed between his brows as he set his own phone beside it, his gaze sweeping over the empty room. Lex had left his phone behind before, but something about the stillness, the quiet, felt off. Lex was never one to leave his things unattended, especially when they’d planned to spend the day together.

He took a moment to gather the groceries, arranging a few items in the fridge with the quiet efficiency of someone used to their routine. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Lex, to the faint edge of concern that had lingered ever since he’d left, the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

A faint sound from down the hall broke the silence—a soft, muffled noise that Soren could barely make out, but it was enough to catch his attention. He paused, listening, his senses attuned to any hint of movement. When he heard it again, a soft, strangled sound, he felt a flicker of worry settle in his chest. Moving quickly but quietly, he made his way down the hall, stopping just outside Lex’s room, his hand hovering over the door.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the light, and as he opened the door, Soren’s gaze fell on Lex, curled over the small trash can by his bed, his hoodie pulled low over his face. Even in the low light, he could see the tension in Lex’s body, the way he was bracing himself, his shoulders hunched as he leaned forward, his breaths shallow and strained.

Soren’s heart clenched, a quiet sympathy settling over him as he watched Lex, his back to the door, unaware of Soren’s presence. Soren saw a stream of saliva clinging to Lex’s lips.

Soren moved closer, each step careful, his movements softened by a desire not to startle Lex, to approach with the same gentleness that he knew Lex needed in these moments. It was only as he reached the edge of the bed that he caught sight of Lex’s face, pale and drawn, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he fought to keep the nausea at bay.

Lex’s head lifted slightly at the sound of footsteps, but his eyes barely opened, a faint wince pulling at his brow as he tried to make out who was there. Soren knelt beside him, his presence quiet, his hand hovering for a moment before he rested it lightly on Lex’s back, his touch warm and grounding.

“Hey,” Soren murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, soft enough not to disturb the fragile quiet that Lex seemed to be holding onto. His thumb rubbed gentle circles against Lex’s back, each movement slow, reassuring. “Rough day, huh?”

Lex let out a faint, pained sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, his head dipping slightly as he leaned forward, another wave of nausea rolling over him, sharp and insistent.

“I’m fine, I promise…” Lex forced softly, the words foreign on his tongue.

The migraine was like a vice, pressing in from all sides, each pulse of pain radiating from the base of his skull, twisting through his temples until it felt like his head was caught in a relentless grip.

“Angel,” Soren said, “Your breakfast in the trash can says otherwise.”

“Dinner, actually,” Lex said, “Got out of bed and felt… felt… fuck-“

Soren’s hand stayed steady on his back, a quiet, grounding presence that seemed to ease the tension, if only by a fraction, as Lex heaved.

“Yeah, angel, you’re fucking stellar,” Soren said sarcastically, chuckling softly and holding Lex by his shoulder.

Soren’s touch anchored Lex, it always did, but the nausea surged, a relentless, overpowering wave that left him breathless, his body giving in to the sickness with a force that left him shuddering. His grip tightened on the trash can, his shoulders hunched as he braced himself, his throat raw as he heaved again, harder than before, the effort of keeping anything down slipping out of his control.

Soren’s touch was light, careful, as though he knew the migraine had made everything sharper, every sound, every sensation amplified by the pain. His fingers brushed against Lex’s hair, a gentle, soothing motion that didn’t press, didn’t force, just offered a quiet, unspoken comfort that kept Lex grounded, steady through each wave of nausea. Lex felt Soren reposition his hood, tugging it more to cover his eyes.

Lex felt his breath catch in his throat, everything freezing for a second, but when the breath released, Lex was pitching forward with an even more violent wave of stomach contents splattering into the trash.

“Ah, shit, angel,” Soren said, “Really bad, huh?”

Lex forced himself to nod as he choked up another round, spitting with a soft groan. Every heave was making Lex’s head hurt so much worse and Lex wanted to scream even though that absolutely would make things worse.

When the worst of it passed, Lex let out a shuddering breath, his head falling forward, the hoodie slipping slightly as he sagged, exhaustion settling over him like a weight. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, the nausea lingering like a dull ache, but less insistent, less pressing. His body felt weak, spent, each breath a careful effort to stay calm, to keep the discomfort from spiraling.

“Better?” Soren asked quietly, his voice a gentle presence beside him, warm and understanding, as though he could sense every ounce of Lex’s reluctance to accept his help. His hand stayed on Lex’s shoulder, steady, a quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to carry this alone.

Lex nodded faintly, his head still bowed, his voice barely a murmur. “Yeah… it’s just… pain,” he managed, his words strained, each syllable a careful effort. The ache in his head pulsed in time with his heartbeat, each throb a fresh reminder of the migraine’s grip, of the discomfort that lingered just beneath the surface.

Soren’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, a gentle, familiar touch that seemed to ease the weight, the tension that had settled in his shoulders. “I know,” he replied softly, his tone filled with a quiet empathy that seemed to cut through the pain, grounding Lex in the present, in the warmth of Soren’s presence beside him.

With a slow, careful movement, Soren took the trash can from Lex’s hands, setting it aside with a quiet understanding that didn’t ask for words, didn’t press for explanations. He reached for a tissue from the nightstand, gently wiping it over Lex’s forehead, his touch light, soothing, a quiet comfort in the midst of the migraine’s unrelenting grip, before wiping Lex’s mouth too.

“Here, water, catch your breath,” Soren said, handing Lex the glass of water on the nightstand. Lex took it, drinking slowly.

Soren got up, going behind Lex’s curtains and cracking the windows.

“I know the weather messes you up, but I also know…” Soren said, coming out from the curtains and grabbing the trash can, “That fresh air helps your nausea, migraine nausea or random episode of nausea. I’m going to toss this, you just try and catch your breath and lay back down, okay?”

Lex let out a small sigh, nodded slowly.

Soren was back before Lex fully processes everything, a new bag in the trash can that he set at the edge of the bed before crawling in by the foot and laying behind Lex.

“Come here,” Soren said, opening his arms. Lex chuckled softly and laid down, curling up in Soren’s side, melting into Soren’s touch, his body exhausted, every ounce of strength drained by the migraine, by the sickness that had overtaken him.

“You’re too good to me,” Lex said softly.

Soren gave Lex a gentle squeeze, kissing the top of Lex’s head.

“I don’t think I’m good enough sometimes,” Soren said, “But I’m right here, angel. Just let me know it you need anything.”

Lex’s throat tightened, a faint, unspoken gratitude lingering beneath the discomfort, a quiet acknowledgment of the comfort, the care that Soren offered so freely, so gently. He nodded, his voice barely more than a whisper, a soft, reluctant acceptance. “Yeah… okay.”

Soren’s hand rubbed up and down Lex’s back, his touch a steady presence that kept him anchored, a small, fragile comfort that cut through the pain.

“I’m right here.”

And Lex knew he could believe it.

[llycaons]

im also tired because I only got 4 hours of sleep today but who's fault was THAT (I....I have no idea. idk why I said that. it's just my body clock trying to keep a daytime schedule and being used to waking up at noon like I've been doing). but I can't sleep yet or else I'll wake up at 8 and this whole cycle will begin again. but at least I only have four more shifts to get through

[moeblob]

I love them! So much!

[chirpsythismorning]

Thinking about the what if El was never interested in Mike romantically, she just assumed she was discourse on the tag today and how it's very possible what could make El fully realize this, is when in s5 she see's Will's love for Mike in real time, for the first time, and she's just like damn! That is not me!

[beaulesbian]

THE TERROR (2018) S01E03 "The Ladder"

There'll be nothing. You hear? Nothing lives there. Nothing grows. You'll eat your shoes again. You'll eat worse.

[chocottang]

the more i think abt goldica the more i like it

[oflgtfol]

anyway, i’m leaving for my upstate eclipse trip on friday morning. gonna be about 8-10 hours in the car all by myself. i desperately need entertainment to occupy me during it. can i PLEASE get some music recommendations so i can check it out during the drive

[coldswarkids]

my grandma passed late last night. she was 94 and ready to go. the family is in chaos and my mom is demanding that i drop everything and show up to "help" with everything, despite being across the country. i am stressed..

[pletoric0]

[feathers-in-the-night]

Rewriting/editing Feathers is in interesting experience because as I go along, I realize stuff that should've been given more weight than it got in the original.

Right now, I'm dealing with the aftermath of the fall of Mount Justice, and in the original, Morgan is rightfully completely pissed, but the moment he pushes back and lets her in on some of his struggles, she folds. And then the next day they're just.. good?

Morgan should've had serious problems with trusting him after that. She should feel incredibly betrayed. She should be grappling with the fact that she's been falling with him, and then realizing that she doesn't truly know him.

In the new version, they don't resolve their talk that night. It ends in a very uncertain place. Dick asks if she still wants him as her mentor and she answers truthfully that she doesn't know. She has no idea how she can trust him again.

And that's it.

Neither of them know where they stand now. The mood is greatly altered, but I know once they've worked through this, all of the domestic and cute moments will feel that much sweeter.

I've added some stuff with Morgan going to the Hall of Justice to give her statement on what happened that night to Dinah, and Dick is unsure if she's planning to expose him. And Dinah finds out that he's out here working with a concussion and she forces him to go home and rest. So Morgan and Dick are essentially both put on house arrest, giving them ample opportunity to work through this. It'll take some time, but they'll get there.

Basically, I'm really enjoying adding some emotional depth that was lacking before. I feel like I was bad at calculating the long-term consequences to their actions when I first wrote the story. I simply didn't think far enough.

This moment of Nightwing's secrets being uncovered by Morgan should've been one of the biggest crises the two of them go through, but it just wasn't given the proper weight in the original version.

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i have this fic in my brain with like. two parts. possibly three. and that's 1) ted teaches trent, of all people, how to make his famous biscuits. this implies a few things:

a) trent is now the biscuit successor. ted's always handing out biscuits. trent finds himself doing the same thing. (this would be the hypothetical third part, if you'll forgive my nonlinearity--trent, and the community, and biscuits.)

b) i like to think trent would enjoy making it bc Autism. idk about yall but i love following a list of precise instructions with little treats along the way with the end result of a thing i can not only hold in my hands but eat??? anyway trent gaining a new hobby for his spare time (that his daughter LOVES to "assist" with lol) and maybe he even starts experimenting himself--the biscuits are never going to be exactly like ted's, but they have something special of their own, too. (and it's still made with love :))

c) ted and trent baking together and the cute (but ultimately bittersweet) shenanigans that ensue.

2) rebecca is missing biscuits with the boss and girl talk, now that ted's gone, when trent hesitantly ducks in with a pink box.

3) again, as beforementioned, trent inadvertently getting roped into making these regularly. first it's one off thing--cheering colin up or it's mentioned that he used to make them for someone ELSE'S kid's birthday and trent knows from experience that's not to be missed, and then it's just. becoming a thing. he is regularly making biscuits now. he is ted's biscuit man successor.

[bibleofficial]

amazon is off their shit w the way they put ads in everything i HATE how the new ‘premium model’ is just … without ads. like buy an amazon fire tv & have ads built into ur television. a billboard in ur living room

[voidcat]

once again at my wits end bc of men