#it feels like I've been sick forever but in reality it's been what

[strangersteddierthings]

"Look, Steve, I don't have any bad feelings towards you," Eddie says, has been saying, talking nonsense, like he and Steve weren't anything more than fuckbuddies, like he isn't breaking Steve's heart. "I used you too, y'know?"

It's then Steve rears back like he been slapped. Or punched. It feels more like a gutting. Joke's on him, he supposes. Once again, he wants more than the other person. He wanted a boyfriend, Eddie'd wanted sex. Why does he keep trying? When Steve finds his voice to speak, it comes out flat and dead and not really like a question at all. "Used me. Like you think I've used you?"

Eddie shrugs, looking for all the world like he's not bothered by that statement. "We had fun, right? So it's all fine in the end."

"Fine," Steve repeats, hollow. They're in his house but Steve feels the need to leave, to run before the reality of how unlovable he truly is sticks inside him forever.

"But I think we should stop while we're ahead," Eddie continues and Steve wonders if Eddie is listening to him at all, or just saying his piece before he goes. Can he not hear Steve's heart breaking? "I want to... I want to find someone to love."

If Eddie's previous words felt like being gutted, these ones feel like cement. Heavy and solidifying. Trapping in the truth of Ever Unlovable Steve. He doesn't even feel heartbroken anymore. Just numb. Dead inside. He should say something encouraging. Let Eddie know that all he's wanted was for Eddie to be happy and loved. But words seem impossible, so he gives one jerky nod of his head. An understanding.

"Right," Eddie says, returning the nod before turning away, towards the door, "I'll just go now. Umm, see ya later, Harrington."

Facing the horrors of the Upside Down should feel like the scariest thing he's ever done but it doesn't. Watching Eddie walk away does. Steve should be able to hold it together long enough for Eddie to leave. He's the tough one. He can hold himself together no problem-

"Why can't you love me?"

Eddie whips back around, an expression on his face like confusion and anger mixed.

It's only then that Steve realizes he spoke. He hasn't meant to. He was going to let Eddie walk away but now his voice has been freed from the cement. His heart has shut down his brain it seems because he just keeps talking, voice flat and hollow, "why can't you love me the way I love you? What is so broken and wrong within me that no one loves me back? My parents, Nancy, now you. Why can't- I thought that we were- where did I go wrong?"

"What?" Eddie asks, and the anger is gone from his face but now he just looks horrified. Which is understandable. It's horrifying to be loved by Steve Harrington. "What did you think we were?"

Boyfriends. Together. Going steady. At the very least, dating without labels. But none of those very reasonable, normal answers come out of Steve's treacherous mouth. Because Steve can't seem to be a reasonable, normal person. He's got to be too much, too soon, too clingy. So, instead, he says, "In love."

Eddie looks like he's just received the worst news of his life. In fact, he looks a little sick. "Oh fuck. Jesus Christ. I can't- I thought- Fuck!"

Steve just nods along. He hadn't actually said I love you to Nancy that night at Tina's Halloween party, but he imagines if he had, the beginning of the bullshit conversation would have sounded much the same as Eddie does now; like anger and regret, the starts and stops. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- if you want to go, you should go."

Eddie crosses the room back to Steve in half the steps he took when he first walked away, hands reaching to grab Steve's face between them. He speaks quickly and sounds panicked now. "No, no no no. I fucked up, misunderstood. I don't know how I got it so wrong. I don't want to go. I never did."

"What?"

"I am in love with you, sweetheart. I just- I didn't know you loved me back. I thought you didn't- that we weren't..."

"I thought we were boyfriends."

"Jesus, please let me fix this. Let me stay and make it up to you. I'll be the best fucking boyfriend you've ever had."

Steve thinks if he had any shred of self-worth he might step back, make Eddie explain himself, but as it is, he steps into Eddie's space and kisses him, hands pulling him as close as he can get. He doesn't want to think about the cruel things Eddie's said, about using each other. Maybe one day they'll have to hash that out, have that conversation, but Eddie says he loves him too, and that's all Steve's wanted.

[amourane]

your fated one

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mentions of pregnancy

w/c: 1.2k

summary: you never believed in fate until you met regulus black.

warnings: none

a/n: i love regulus black sm with all my heart and soulll, also i've been in a fluffy mood lately can you tell???

“Merlin.” You whispered as you held the pregnancy test in your hand, stomach churning at the two positive lines that were drawn on. 

Immense happiness filled your body before the dread came…how were you going to tell him?

Regulus lay in your shared bed, his dark hair tousled against the pillow. You stumbled out of the bathroom, head spinning from the new knowledge that had been bestowed upon you. Everything seemed surreal.

The morning sickness had been relentless, the missed period a silent alarm that something was amiss. Yet, the reality of it all hit you like a ton of bricks as you stood there, clutching the bathroom door frame for support. You and Regulus hadn’t even come close to discussing the topic of children. The both of you had basically just graduated from Hogwarts and the engagement ring that sat on your finger was the symbol of a promise of a life together.

Regulus glanced up from his book, concern etched into his features as he took in your distressed state. "Are you alright, love?" His voice was laced with worry, eyebrows furrowing as he approached you. "You don't look well."

Your throat felt dry, parched even. Your fingers were trembling as you felt tears prick your eyes. Merlin, what if he didn’t want the baby? Regulus was so young and so were you, having a child was something you hadn't even begun to fathom. 

“Y/n, darling?” There was a moment as his eyes caught sight of the object in your trembling hands, his expression shifted from confusion to realization. “Is that…?” 

His voice trailed off, eyes widening in astonishment when you nodded in approval. A wave of happiness washed over him and he felt warmth spread throughout his chest. His joy, however, was quickly tempered by concern as tears continued to streak down your face.

“Love, what’s wrong? Isn’t this meant to be a happy occasion? You’re pregnant!” He asked softly, bringing you to sit on the edge of the bed, his arm around you. “Do you not want the baby?”

“No! Of course I want the baby!” You shouted, voice cracking. “It’s just…we’re so young Reggie and we’re getting married soon, I don’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a fucking whale.” You wailed like a banshee and your fiancé broke out in laughter. 

“You are not going to look like a fucking whale darling, and we can postpone the wedding if it makes you feel any better, I’ll wait forever for you.” He cooed as he gave you a kiss. The tears didn’t stop but you felt happier. “I’ve always wanted a family and the journey we’re going to have together will be amazing. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“What if you love the baby more than me?”

“Not possible, I could never love anyone more than I love you.” He cupped your cheeks, adoring the way you acted like a petulant child at times. 

You sniffled, hands rubbing your belly. “I can’t believe it…”

Regulus's smile widened, his eyes alight with a newfound brightness. "Believe it or not, love, but fate has a funny way of bringing us together." He teased, his playful demeanor bringing a smile to your lips.

“Fuck that shit, I don’t believe in fate.”

“Love, we’re literally a witch and a wizard.” 

“Still don’t believe in it, you know me Reg.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, pushing you down onto the bed gently, peppering your face with sweet kisses. You could see the ways his eyes sparkled with something new. His smile was brighter than ever and his cheeks were rosy. You felt a new batch of tears brimming at your eyes and you soon started to cry again.

“Y/n?” He asked, wiping your tears away with his hand. “Are these tears happy or sad?”

“I just l-love you so much.” You sobbed. “I fucking love you Regulus Black.”

He bit his lip to hide the joyous laughter that was bubbling up inside of him but a chuckle escaped from his lips. You smacked his arm as a scowl took over your features.

“You prick, I’m here confessing my love to you and you’re laughing!”

Regulus bursted into laughter before summoning a mirror for you to look at your reflection. Your eyes were swollen and quite evident that you had been crying. Your hair was frazzled and all over the place.

“Even though you look like a mess, I still love you.”

"Good." You replied, a grin spreading across your face despite the lingering tears. "You're getting married to me."

//

Amidst the cheers and celebration, you and your newly-wed husband stood hand in hand, surrounded by friends and family. Little Leo, just five months old, nestled in your arms, his wide eyes already reflecting the familiar stormy grey of Regulus'.

“How’s little Leo doing?” Your husband cooed at your son and he giggled, tiny hands latching onto Regulus’ finger. “Me and Mama just got married. She’s officially Mrs Black now.”

Your heart melted at the words he said. The long dinner table was seated with chattering guests and you thought now was the perfect time to finally say the speech you had been preparing. Regulus still hadn’t a clue about what you were going to say so this was all going to be a surprise. 

Passing Leo into Regulus' loving arms, you pressed a kiss to your son's forehead before rising to your feet. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to you, curiosity and anticipation flickering in their gazes, including Regulus' and Leo's.

“Hi everyone.” You gave the faces you knew for decades a wave. “I've been waiting for this moment to share something I've wanted to say for a long time.”

You saw the way your husband’s face was knitted with confusion and you couldn’t suppress the grin that took over your face.

"Regulus Black, you have always been, and always will be, the light of my life. From the moment we met at eleven to this day at twenty-one, time has flown by, but my love for you has only grown stronger. You've given me the greatest joys in life, and I will never stop cherishing you. We've faced hardships together, but with you by my side, I know we can overcome anything. I cannot wait to continue this journey with you, raising our son together."

You could see the emotion welling in Regulus' eyes as you spoke, his expression mirroring the depth of your love.

“I used to say I didn’t believe in fate, that was a lie. I believed in fate the moment I met you Reg, you made me believe in it. We are destined for each other and I hope that I spend every second of my life with you. Fate brought us together and it will keep us together. Our family of three.”

You finished your speech and you saw Regulus’ eyes fill with tears as he got up and kissed you deeply without hesitation. The room erupted in cheers and congratulations, the love and happiness palpable in the air.

“We have fate to thank for this I guess.” He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours.

Tears were now running down your face as you gave your husband another kiss. Your gaze shifted to your son, cradled in Regulus' arms, and then back to your husband, a wave of love washing over you. 

“We sure do.”

[rkvriki]

how they realize they are in love !

hii!! i've been so inactive but classes are kicking my ass and i've been struggling to hold myself together lolz. anywaysss i hope you enjoy this little idea i got :D

make sure to leave feedback ! my requests are open and so is my talkbox so let's talk !

WARNINGS ! mentions of insecurities, making out in jakes one, not proofread sorry jrehkdk

words count: 1.8k

LEE HEESEUNG !

— goes out of his way for you

heeseung had this day off but you two made no plans since you had work to do and you really needed to get it done. heeseung was getting ready to go eat out with jay and jake when he received a call from you. when you told him you were sick with headaches and a runny nose, he wasted no time telling the boys he couldn’t make it and ran straight to the closest pharmacy he could find on his way to your house. he picked some soup and the best medicine for your symptoms and went straight to you. when he reached your door he stopped a moment to catch his breath before ringing the door bell. there you were opening the door wrapped in a robe and a red nose from blowing it so much, still heeseung smiled as he saw you. he had you laying down in the bed as he spoon fed you the warm soup and gave you medicine. after a while you fell asleep cuddled to his chest, heeseung not caring if he was gonna get sick or not. he was looking down at you and just started thinking about the things he would do for you, making his heart flutter. seeing you like this made him realize he wanted to do this as many times as he could, he wanted to take care of you for the rest of his life and hoped you would let him do so.

rest under the cut !

PARK JONGSEONG !

— starts daydreaming about a future with you

when you and jay started dating, he knew that, as cliche as it sounds, this time was very different from his previous relationships. something in his subconscious gave him that feeling and he had no complaints. he always knew he wanted to take this for forever. no one had ever made him feel like you did. he found himself thinking about you when you weren’t there and sometimes he let his mind wander a little further from reality. he started by imagining little things such as your first big trip together or future big events in your relationship. as the time started passing he started imagining an actual future with you, he wondered how he would propose to you, would it be in the beach you always go to or in the garden where your dates almost always happen? He daydreamed about seeing you in a big flowy white dress in a beautiful wedding venue or you dancing in front of your guests as you looked at him and him only. he knew this weren’t just silly lovesick thoughts, he really wanted that to happen and he was gonna make sure they would become his reality.

SIM JAEYUN !

— when you kiss

jake always knew he was a sucker for skinship with his partners. he feels the need to constantly be touching you in a way or another, be it kissing, cuddling, hugging or just you holding his pinky as you walk side by side, he just needs to feel your skin on his. he loves the comfort your touch gives him, it makes him feeling fuzzy inside. he loves how you slowly get closer to him when you are both sat on your couch watching tv just to cuddle him. he loves when you get closer to him in your sleep unconsciously. his favorite is when he is doing something and you get on your  tippy toes and reach for his lips to give him a peck. so when you both are on your bed making out, his hand cupping you face gently and his thumb softly rubs your cheek, he pulls away breathless, watching as you look up at him with your doe eyes that don’t match your swollen lips, red from all the biting he did, he feels his heart skip way too many beats. this feeling is foreign to him but he likes it and he almost immediately knows what it is and he leaves you confused when he starts laughing and pulls you in a hug, crushing you in his embrace.

PARK SUNGHOON !

— finds comfort in you

sunghoon had a little bit of a hard time starting to express his emotions to you. he was never one to tell people about his worries and things that are bothering him. when you started dating you were afraid that this would affect your relation since you were a strong believer that communication is the key for a healthy and prosper relationship. you thought that maybe you weren’t showing him that you were there for him and to listen to him, but that changed when one day he ranted to you about something that happened during work and was really letting him down. since that day you reassured him that you were there to listen whenever he wanted and was ready to talk to you. there were days where he got home and said nothing and just laid besides you finding a place in your arms. like today was one of those days, he laid down in your arms as you comfortingly scratched his head, making his eyes flutter shut. suddenly you hear him sniffle, making you turn your head down at him right away. he starts laughing and crying, leaving you confused not knowing what was going on. sunghoon knew what was happening, he finally found home, a home in your arms and your comfort.

KIM SUNOO !

— starts admiring the smallest details about you

sunoo knew the moment he first saw you, you were one of the prettiest people he’s ever met. the way you seemed to have this halo around you, making everyone around you become instantly smiley as they saw you walk in. he loved every single thing about you, he loved every single mole you had and he really loved your smile and how contagious it was. sometimes he found himself observing you doing little things and he always found new details of your to appreciate. he noticed the way your nose slightly scrunched when you made a typo while typing away in your laptop as you worked, noticed how your head twitches a little when you forgot something or how you do this cute bunny nose twitch when you sleep. sunoo often found himself thinking about these details when he went to bed, smiling as he closed his eyes, ready to sleep, but his mind tricks him, not letting him fall into a deep slumber, as it drifts to the image of you, making his heart flutter in his chest. whe he felt first this he was scared, he had never felt this before and he didn’t know what it was, until he realized it happened when he thought of you and he started liking how strong it felt. he smiles to himself when he feels it, hoping that it last forever.

YANG JUNGWON !

— introduced you to his family

jungwon never introduced any partner of his to his family if he had any before you. he never felt like it would be worthy since he never felt like they would last. when you met you clicked instantly and he knew you were gonna be meeting Mr and Mrs Yang, he just needed to wait for the right moment. It was only after almost a year of dating that you met them. It didn’t take that long because he was unsure of doing it, no, it was mostly you avoiding doing it. you were afraid of how they would react. would they like you? what if you mess up in front of them? insecure thoughts filled your mind, but won constantly reassured you you were gonna be just fine and you only realized you had nothing to worry about when you actually met them. Jungwon loved seeing you interact. he found himself smiling unconsciously when you were talking to them or his sister, he knew he wanted to see those interactions more. the moment he realized he really wanted this to be frequent was when he found you playing in his room with maeum after he came back from the bathroom. he observed you from the door, your back turned to him but he could still see what you were doing since you were on the floor. his heart did flips in his chest and he had to bite his smile back, taking a mental picture of this moment.

NISHIMURA RIKI !

— feeling slightly jealous or possessive 

niki was still new with relationships, you were his first serious one, only having little high school romances but nothing too serious, the most he had done was holding hands. when you started dating he wanted to make it serious, he really liked you and he made sure to show you that he did and you did the same. you were his first everything, niki swore he would never forget the way he felt when you first kissed him, something he scolded himself for not taking the big step, making you do it. still he was grateful you like him enough to do it, even if he wanted to be the one indulging it. niki was a little insecure. he knew his job didn’t allow him to go out a lot with you and sometimes he found himself thinking if you were ever gonna get tired of this lifestyle. he knew you were young and had a lot of things to experience and he didn’t want to hold you back from doing it. his biggest fear is you finding someone who can do the things he can’t do with you, since you always need to have your dates at home seeing that his privacy is very limited. one day you asked him if he wanted to meet your friends which he obviously accepted because you talk about them non stop. you all met up in a quiet cafe not wanting to risk being seen with him. niki felt a certain uneasiness when he saw you being really chatty with this one friend and his thoughts got the best of him. he didn’t know why he felt like this, was your friend better than him? do you enjoy their presence better than his? he knew that this wasn’t coming out of nowhere, the fear of losing you was real and it made him want to crawl into a hole and not think about it anymore. you noticed his change of behavior and reminded yourself to talk about it with him later, ending up in a cute confession.

[thewulf]

Breaking Point || Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: Request -I've got this itch for some hurt/comfort with Simon Ghost Riley and the reader from TF 141. Reader's this badass sniper, always on top of her game. But one day she wakes up feeling under the weather. She decides to push through training, but things take a turn when she starts feeling faint during drills after Price gives her shit for not training hard... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh this was challenging but so much fun to right. Please let me know your thoughts below :) Got a little carried away with this one!

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 7.7k +

TW: Heat Stroke, Flu, Illness, general COD warnings.

Four years ago, you were a part of a special training assignment with the American Navy, deployed in a remote and sweltering military base off the coast of Africa. It was here in the middle of the grueling drills and relentless heat that you caught the eye of Captain John Price. Your prowess with a rifle was unmistakable. Every target set before you fell without fail. But what truly set you apart was your demeanor: you kept your head down, focused intensely on the task at hand, never boasting about your undeniable skills.

Captain Price who was always on the lookout for exceptional talent to add to Task Force 141, saw in you a rare combination of humility and sharpshooting expertise. Recognizing your potential he pulled some strings, navigated through the complexities of the American Military bureaucracy, and somehow successfully recruited you into the prestigious ranks of TF 141. This marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One that would challenge your resilience and skill more than any previous assignment.

Joining TF 141 wasn't just a promotion. It was being welcomed into a family of elite soldiers. While Soap and Gaz took an immediate liking to you, appreciating your wit and marksmanship, Ghost was initially more reserved. His trust was not easily won. It had to be earned on the battlefield not just through training exercises back at base.

Your defining moment came during a perilous mission in the frozen expanses of Russia within your first year with the 141. The mission had quickly gone sideways. Ghost found himself in the deadly crosshairs of an enemy sniper. With the situation deteriorating rapidly and no clear shot available to him your actions in those critical seconds would forever change the dynamics of your relationship with Ghost. From a concealed position you took out the opposing sniper with a single, precise shot, saving Ghost’s life.

This act erased any last reservations Ghost might have held. From then on he saw you not just as another sharpshooter but as an indispensable member of the team, his team. Your ability to make life-saving decisions under intense pressure proved your strength. Not just in terms of physical prowess but in intellectual and tactical acumen as well.

Since then you have become an integral part of TF 141's operations. Your journey from a promising recruit noticed by Captain Price to a pivotal player in some of the team’s most critical missions has been defined by relentless dedication and the deep trust you've earned from some of the military's toughest warriors.

The shrill beep of the alarm slices through the stillness of your room dragging you from the shallow waters of restless sleep into the harsh reality of dawn. For a moment as you blink against the dim light filtering through the barracks' curtains, the room spins slightly—a disorienting dance that forces you to close your eyes again.

You’ve always been the type who never gets sick. The one who breezes through the cold season unscathed while others succumb around you. Your robust health has been a point of pride, a badge of reliability in TF 141. But this morning something is different, and you know it immediately.

Your body aches profoundly, each muscle groaning with a weariness that feels bone-deep, and your head pounds with the relentless rhythm of a dull, throbbing drum. Swallowing feels like dragging sandpaper down your throat. An unfortunate wave of nausea rolls through you as you sit up. It has to be the flu, you think grimly, recognizing the unmistakable and unforgiving symptoms.

Despite the clear signs of illness, the thought of calling in sick doesn’t even cross your mind. It’s not just about pride. There’s also a deep-seated belief that you can handle anything, a belief that has carried you through countless challenges.

With a heavy, determined sigh, you push yourself off the bed. Standing unsteadily for a moment, you use the wall to keep yourself upright. Today is not the day to show weakness, not the day to break your perfect record of health. You decide to power through. To dress and join your team for the morning drills under the rising sun. The thought of letting them down by your absence is more daunting than the physical discomfort threatening to overwhelm you.As you gear up, each movement measured and more deliberate than usual, you steel yourself for the day ahead. Today, you'll prove—not just to your team, but to yourself—that not even the flu can keep you from standing alongside your comrades.

Stepping out into the cool, pre-dawn air, you allow yourself a moment to feel the chill against your fevered skin. It’s oddly refreshing, a natural contrast to the unnatural heat of your illness. It’s bound to be short lived though as the sun’s rays already feel warm on your skin. The training field is a short walk away and with each step you rehearse the day’s routine in your mind. A mantra against the physical discomfort.

As the briefing wraps up and the team begins to disperse to their respective training stations you feel the weight of Ghost’s gaze right on you. Despite the heaviness of your limbs and the fog in your brain, this unspoken solidarity from your teammates, especially Ghost, gives you a sliver of strength.

With each step towards the day’s first drill your resolve hardens. You're not just fighting the flu; you're fighting to maintain the trust and respect you’ve earned. Today, the battlefield is here, within yourself, and you're determined to prove your mettle. You are keenly aware of being one of the few women in the unit and the additional scrutiny that comes with it. It's crucial that you show no weakness even as your body wages its quiet rebellion. Your head pounds with a relentless ache. Your limbs are heavy. And every breath feels like an effort. Despite these symptoms screaming flu, you've chosen silence—no complaints, no excuses.

When you arrive at the training field the usual bustle of activity sharply contrasts with your internal struggle. Everyone is focused on what needs to be done, their attention solely on performance. As Captain Price begins the morning briefing his voice sounds like a distant echo in your ears drowned out by the pounding in your head. The day's challenges loom large, testing your limits before you've even started.

As you make your way to the lineup, the crisp morning air begins to turn warm, almost uncomfortable warm already. Soap falls into step beside you, his familiar grin lighting up his face as he launches into the light-hearted banter that typically marks your mornings together.

“Morning! Ready to outshoot us all again today?” Soap teases before giving you a gentle nudge with his elbow, expecting your usual lively retort.

You manage only a weak smile, one that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and nod faintly. The flu has buried your usual quick wit under a heavy weight of fatigue and discomfort. It takes all your effort just to keep standing without revealing how much you're struggling.

Soap’s smile quickly falters at your lack of reply, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You okay, lass?” he asks. His tone shifting to something more serious.

You nod again, swallowing hard against the surge of nausea. “Yeah, just tired,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You're careful not to reveal the full extent of your ailment, not here, not in front of your team.

From a short distance away Ghost's intense gaze follows the exchange. Though his presence is more subdued, and his demeanor reserved, his attention to detail remains sharp. You can feel his concern even without words. His posture is alert, his body tensed as if ready to act at a moment's notice.

Ghost offers no overt gestures of worry; he doesn't need to. The slight tightening of his stance is a silent signal of his readiness to intervene. His eyes, just visible through the slits of his mask, never wander, tracking your every move with a vigilance that speaks volumes. You know he's always watching out for his team, and today, his protective focus is unmistakably fixed on you.

"Alright, let's warm up! Start with sprints!" Captain Price commands. His voice cuts through the morning air, decisive and clear. You line up with your teammates, the grass cool and slightly damp under your boots. The whistle pierces the calm, and you propel yourself forward. Each step is a battle, your muscles protesting every movement. Yet you push through the fatigue and dizziness.

After sprints the drills shift to push-ups. Down on the warm, wet grass you feel the earth against your palms, stabilizing yet unforgiving. You count each repetition, your muscles burning and a thin layer of sweat forming, which only seems to heighten the chills that intermittently rack your body.

Sit-ups come next and with each crunch a wave of nausea threatens your composure. The world tilts slightly with each lift, blurring at the edges. Captain Price’s footsteps approach. His presence looming. "Let’s see that strength, Y/N! Don’t slack now!" he urges. The encouragement is meant to inspire but it feels like a heavy mantle on your already burdened shoulders.

“Yes sir.” You manage to get out between crunches.

As you struggle through each exercise you can't ignore the hot flashes followed by chills, the hallmark of flu symptoms. Each movement is more taxing than the last and the temptation to give in and rest grows stronger. However, your determination doesn't waver. You are here to prove yourself, to demonstrate that neither flu nor fatigue can break your resolve. You need to showcase the unwavering strength of not just a skilled sniper, but a resilient soldier.

As the whistle blows, Captain Price directs everyone to break into their respective teams for more specialized, team-based drills. You find yourself grouped with Ghost, Gaz, and Soap. Your usual teammates and three of the unit's most competent operatives. Your heart sinks a bit. Their proficiency and teamwork are unmatched and under normal circumstances you would feel invigorated by the challenge. Today, however, it feels like an uphill battle.

"Alright, team," Gaz announces with a nod, "we’re up for the relay sprints and tactical positioning exercises. We need to be sharp and synchronized. Let's show these assholes how it's done."

You nod silently, attempting to muster a semblance of enthusiasm. Soap claps you on the shoulder giving you a reassuring smile, likely mistaking your subdued quietness for focused determination rather than the fatigue that’s slowly overtaking you.

The drills begin with relay sprints. You watch as Soap takes off with his usual speed. His figure swiftly cutting through the warming afternoon air. Gaz follows, moving with practiced ease. Then it’s your turn. As you push off your legs feel as though they are wading through molasses, your usually sharp agility significantly dulled by the flu’s tenacious grip. Each step feels heavier than the last as your breathing becomes ragged and unsteady.

Compounding your discomfort, the gear you're clad in feels unbearably hot against your skin. The layers that are usually a second nature in your fieldwork now seem like a furnace, trapping in every ounce of body heat. Your temperature rises not just from the fever, but also from the exhaustive exertion and the insulated heat from your tactical vest. Sweat beads on your forehead, not entirely from the physical activity but also from the early signs of heat exhaustion—your body’s desperate attempt to cool down under the layers.

Despite feeling increasingly overheated and nearly overwhelmed, you hide your discomfort well. Your face remains stoic, betraying none of the battle raging within your body against the heat and illness. To an outsider you might just appear intensely focused. But beneath the surface you're fighting a much tougher battle, trying to keep pace while your body screams for relief.

Ghost, from his vantage point, watches closely. His sharp eyes catch the subtle signs that others might miss—the slight falter in your step, the way you're breathing a little too hard after your sprint. His gaze intensifies with concern etched across his face as he monitors your every move, aware that something isn’t right but waiting for you to signal if you need assistance.

When you pass the baton to Ghost your hand trembles slightly. He catches it and for a brief moment your eyes meet. There's a flash of concern across his usually impassive face, a subtle shift that speaks volumes. He nods at you before taking off, his movements fluid and precise, yet his mind clearly not fully on the drill. His glance back at you is quick, discreet, checking to ensure you’re still on your feet.

As the exercises continue with the tactical positioning drills, the demands increase. This part of the training requires quick movements and even quicker thinking as each team member needs to cover different angles and work together seamlessly. You position yourself to cover Ghost’s flank, aiming to maintain your usual high standards. However, the world begins to tilt alarmingly. Your vision swims and the ground beneath you feels as if it’s shifting forcing you to steady yourself against a nearby tree.

Ghost, now at a slight distance, turns sharply in response to your stagger. His eyes narrow, not with disapproval, but with intensified concern. He makes a subtle move to close the distance between you, his instincts as a protector kicking in. Yet, he stops himself, respecting your pride and your ability to signal if you need help. He positions himself strategically, so he’s close enough to intervene quickly if needed. His body tensed and ready to act.

“Y/N, you alright?” Gaz’s voice suddenly cuts through your fog of discomfort, and you realize you’ve attracted more attention than you intended.

You straighten up quickly, nodding more sharply than necessary. “Just lost my footing for a second,” you lie. Managing a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Ghost, who has now subtly shifted his position to provide you with both physical and moral support, keeps his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer. He doesn’t call you out on your obvious discomfort. Instead, he gives you a nod, an unspoken communication between you two. It’s his way of saying he’s there, just in case, without putting you on the spot in front of the others.

His presence helps you gather your strength to continue. Despite the unease churning inside you knowing that Ghost is watching over you with such attentiveness gives you a small, but significant boost of confidence. You focus on the drills, pushing through the nausea and instability, bolstered by the knowledge that help is just a few steps away if you truly need it.

You begin to feel the oppressive heat bearing down on you more intensely than before. Each breath feels like you're inhaling fire. And the tactical gear, usually a familiar weight, now feels like an unbearable burden. Trapping too much heat against your body. More and more sweat beads on your forehead mixing with the slight dizziness that refuses to fade. The discomfort is escalating and despite your best efforts to mask it the heat is becoming unmanageable.

Ghost was still maintaining a discreet distance, watches you with sharp, observant eyes. He senses the subtle changes in your posture and the slight grimace that you can't quite hide each time you move. His concern deepens but he waits for a sign from you, respecting your pride and your position within the team.

As the drills continue you find it increasingly difficult to focus. The world seems to shimmer with heat around the edges and you feel a wave of nausea stronger than before. Recognizing that you might be in more trouble than you initially thought you catch Ghost's gaze across the field. It's a silent plea for understanding, a subtle acknowledgment that you do need his help after all.

Ghost responds immediately, his instincts as your LT kicking into high gear. He crosses the distance between you with a few quick strides. His approach discreet yet filled with purpose. “Everything okay?” he asks quietly. His voice low enough that only you can hear. It’s clear he’s prepared to step in, to offer whatever support you need without drawing unwanted attention to your struggle.

Your attempt to respond is less than reassuring. "Heat… too, it’s not the... can't—why can’t the air?" you mumble. Your words tangling into an unintelligible mess, a clear indicator that you are far from alright.

The expression behind Ghost's mask tightens, his protective instincts flaring as he assesses your condition with even greater alarm. Your face is flushed from more than just the heat. It's clear you're struggling significantly under the weight of your gear and the relentless sun.

At that moment Captain Price's voice cuts sharply through the air, his tone laced with the urgency of the drill. "Let's move it, Ghost, Y/N!" he commands from a distance, seemingly oblivious to the severity of your distress. His focus is on the continuity and discipline of the training. Unaware that one of his own is teetering on the edge of collapse.

Ghost’s response is swift and decisive. Without drawing attention to the situation, he steadies you with one arm, his other hand signaling subtly to Captain Price that something isn’t right. "Give us a moment, sir," he calls back firmly, his tone respectful yet insistent enough to convey the seriousness of the issue without alarming the entire unit.

He turns back to you, his gaze intense. "We need to get you out of the sun," he states quietly, directing you towards a shaded area nearby. His hand remains supportively on your back, guiding but not pushing. His presence a steady force as you stagger slightly under your own weight.

Once under the shade, Ghost helps you remove your tactical vest, easing the burden of the heat trapped against your body. The cooler air hits your skin, offering a momentary relief that you hadn't realized you needed so desperately. But as your body starts to cool an unexpected shiver runs through you, violent and uncontrollable. It feels as though the temperature has plummeted, though the day remains swelteringly hot.

"Ghost," you stutter out between shivers, "it's so cold." Your teeth chatter, a stark contrast to the sweat that still beads on your forehead. The sudden coldness is disorienting, confusing, and you clutch at your arms in an attempt to warm yourself.

"Simon," you manage to say between shivers. His actual name slipping out amidst the confusion—an unusual slip that does not escape his notice. Ghost, or Simon as you now call him, recognizes the gravity of the situation immediately. The usual protocols and formalities fade into the background as he prioritizes your wellbeing above all else.

You blink rapidly trying to focus as your surroundings become a blur. The ground seems to tilt beneath you for a second time and a wave of darkness edges your vision. Simon watches you closely with an arm around your waist in case. His trained eyes catching every sign of your deteriorating condition.

“Hang on,” he urges. His voice steady but the concern is palpable. Before he can offer more reassurance your knees buckle beneath you. Your body finally giving way to the overwhelming symptoms. And suddenly the world goes dark in your eyes.

Simon catches you before you hit the ground his arms securing you firmly yet gently. “Medic!” he shouts. The urgency in his voice cutting through the morning air without a hint of hesitation. Captain Price who had been overseeing the drills from a short distance, turns sharply at the sound. His quick assessment of the situation bringing him running.

Price approaches just as Simon adjusts his hold on you, bringing your body to the ground so you were laying.  “What happened?” Price asks. His voice a mix of command and concern.

“Heat stroke, I think—she’s out,” Simon responds curtly. His gaze fixed on you as he checks your pulse and looks for any sign of recovery. Your brief moments of unconsciousness are fleeting but each second is critical.

As you flutter your eyes open, confusion mingles with the need to communicate. “Simon... it’s all spinning,” you murmur with your voice overly weak. The use of his first name again in such a vulnerable state only cements his resolve to get you the help you need immediately.

As Simon kneels beside you he carefully supports your head, his eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. “Can you tell me where you are?” he asks again. His voice a mix of firmness and concern trying to assess the level of your disorientation.

You blink slowly but the effort to focus feeling monumental. Your gaze drifts over the familiar yet strangely distant figures of Soap and Gaz before returning to Simon. “We're... in Bosnia?” you murmur hesitantly, the name of a recent mission location slipping out, completely unrelated to your current setting on the training field.

Simon’s expression tightens, a flicker of worry crossing his features as he realizes the depth of your confusion. He exchanges a quick, grave look with Captain Price who has been monitoring the situation closely. The incorrect answer confirms the seriousness of your condition, prompting Price to look around, expecting the medics to be approaching swiftly.

However, as Simon scans the area his frustration mounts. The medics, possibly delayed or misinformed about the severity of the situation, are nowhere in sight. Realizing that waiting even a moment longer could jeopardize your well-being he makes a decisive call.

"Not fast enough," Simon mutters under his breath. His protective instincts overriding protocol. Without waiting for the medics to arrive he gently but firmly scoops you up in his arms. His movements are swift and determined as he begins to rush you towards the infirmary. His concern for your immediate safety taking precedence over everything else.

Captain Price, upon seeing Simon’s sudden movement, understands the gravity of the decision and immediately acts. "Clear the way!” he shouts, commanding the attention of everyone on the field.

As Simon carries you, the world around you becomes a blur of motion and sound, but his steady grip provides a reassuring constant. "Hang on love, we're almost there. Just stay with me," he urges. His voice a soothing presence amid the confusion.

With each step Simon takes your sense of time and space dims, the urgency of his stride and the rhythm of his heartbeat blending into the background noise of the base. As you approach the infirmary you see figures moving quickly to prepare for your arrival.

Simon’s pace doesn’t falter until he reaches the medical staff waiting at the infirmary doors. As he gently hands you over to their care his gaze lingers on yours filled with concern and an unspoken promise of unwavering support, no matter the circumstances.

In the cool, sterile environment of the infirmary, Ghost stands a vigilant watch beside your bed. His gaze locked onto your face as the medical team works rapidly to stabilize your condition. The typical stoic mask he wears has fallen away, replaced by an expression etched with deep concern. Each furrow of his brow and tight set of his jaw reveals more than usual concern. It speaks of a profound fear that he rarely allows others to see.

As the medical staff step back momentarily to fetch additional supplies, Ghost's role shifts subtly but significantly. He transforms from a mere observer into an active caretaker, a role those in TF 141 rarely witness. He picks up a damp cloth and gently wipes your forehead. His touch delicate and caring, betraying the roughness expected from his formidable field presence.

"Hey, love, can you hear me?" he murmurs. His voice soft and laden with a tenderness that surprises even him. The word 'love' slips out naturally. A term of endearment that he hasn't used lightly before. This slip, this small but significant deviation from his usual manner, is a clear sign of his deepening feelings. Feelings he might not have fully acknowledged until this very moment.

You blink slowly, responding to the sound of his voice. Ghost watches for any sign of recognition, any indication that you understand his presence. As you meet his gaze, there's a moment of relief that passes over his features. But it's quickly replaced by renewed worry as he continues to monitor your responses.

He is utterly overwhelmed. A feeling that's foreign to him. He's faced countless dangers without flinching but the sight of you so vulnerable stirs a fear in him that battlefield threats never have. He realizes perhaps more clearly than ever how deeply his feelings for you run. It's not just friendship or brotherly protection. It's something much deeper, more personal.

He stays close, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The contact is meant to comfort you but it also grounds him, reminding him that you're still here, still fighting. "Stay with me, okay?" he adds quietly, almost pleadingly. This is not just a command from a superior officer; it's a personal plea from someone who cares deeply.

Ghost's presence in the infirmary becomes a constant, a guardian ensuring that no detail is overlooked, no necessary treatment delayed. His commitment to your recovery is unwavering, his actions driven by a mix of professional duty and personal concern that has become inseparable. The realization that his feelings for you have evolved adds a new weight to every decision, every action he takes on your behalf.

A few hours later, the haze of confusion and illness that enveloped your mind begins to clear slightly. As your eyes flutter open, the stark white lights of the infirmary momentarily blind you, and the unfamiliar sounds of medical equipment beep rhythmically in the background. Disoriented, you try to recall the sequence of events that led to this moment.

Sitting beside your bed, Ghost notices the subtle signs of consciousness returning. He leans forward, his presence reassuring amidst the clinical surroundings. "Hey, you're awake," he says gently. His voice a soothing contrast to the beeping machines. "Take it easy. You gave us quite a scare out there."

As fragments of memory return—the unbearable heat of the training field, your faltering steps, the feeling of collapse—your face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. The realization that you succumbed in front of your team, particularly because of a flu exacerbating the situation, is hard to accept.

Ghost reads the embarrassment in your expression and quickly addresses it. "Listen, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. You’re dealing with the flu on top of everything else. Heat stroke is serious and it’s a lot for anyone to handle. Especially when you’re already under the weather," he reassures you earnestly.

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. His touch grounding. "Even the toughest soldiers need to take a step back sometimes. It’s okay to acknowledge that you’re human, that you have limits. It doesn't diminish your strength," he continues in your silence. His voice imbued with empathy and understanding.

Feeling the sincerity in his words helps ease some of your discomfort. "Thanks, Simon," you manage to whisper, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. The informal use of his first name in such a vulnerable moment speaks volumes about the trust and comfort you’ve grown to have in him.

Simon offers a gentle smile. His eyes softening. "You’re always pushing yourself to be the best and that’s certainly admirable. But sometimes, taking care of yourself is part of being the best. Don’t blame yourself for this. I certainly don’t blame you for trying," he adds, affirming his support in you.

"Sleep now. Don’t worry about the rest for now. We’re all here for you," he suggests while still holding your hand, his steady presence a comforting constant as you drift back towards unconsciousness. His commitment to your well-being is clear not just as a teammate but as someone who cares deeply on a personal level.

As you close your eyes, comforted by his words and presence, you feel a profound sense of relief. Simon's quiet vigil lets you know that no matter what, you’re not alone. Periodically, he checks the IV line and adjusts the cold packs making sure to monitor your recovery closely.. Each time you stir or grimace in discomfort, he’s there, adjusting your position or simply offering a reassuring touch.

As the hours pass Ghost remains by your side, a silent sentinel. Even as you're asleep he doesn’t leave, instead pulling up a chair to sit beside your bed. Occasionally, other members of the team peek in offering quiet words of support. But it's clear Ghost has appointed himself your primary guardian during this vulnerable time.

This unexpected role of caretaker reveals a depth to Ghost that goes beyond his tactical prowess and battlefield grit. In the infirmary, with the soft hum of medical equipment in the background, his softer, caring nature comes to the forefront, showcasing a profound sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards his team. Especially towards you.

As the day's tension slowly ebbs away in the quiet of the infirmary, you sleep deeply, recovering from the ordeal. Ghost sits steadfast by your side. His focus is solely on you. His usually impassive gaze softened by concern. The door creaks open softly as Soap and Gaz walk in. Both their faces splitting into mischievous grins when they see Ghost in his uncharacteristic role as your caretaker.

“Never thought I’d see Ghost play the doting nurse,” Soap chuckles quietly. Trying to keep his voice low to avoid disturbing you. “What’s next? Will you be knitting her a sweater?”

Gaz joins in leaning against the door frame with a smirk playing on his lips, “Maybe a nice scarf to go with it, mate. Make sure it matches her eyes, yeah?” His comment draws a soft laugh from Soap. Their teasing lightening the atmosphere of the infirmary.

Their laughter, though subdued, is a needed release after the day’s stress. It’s filled with genuine affection and respect for both you and Ghost. They understand the stakes of such moments and the bonds they forge.

Ghost, not missing a beat, shoots them a pointed look. His response is tinged with his characteristic dry humor. "Keep it up, and you'll be on the next solo recon mission in the coldest part of Siberia," he replies. His tone firm but with a faint smirk betraying his amusement.

In the background Captain Price stands silently in the doorway. His observant eyes taking in the scene. He watches Ghost’s interactions with a discerning eye, noting the subtle softness in his usually stoic demeanor. Price is no stranger to the complexities of personal dynamics within his team. And he senses the potential implications of Ghost’s deepening concern for you. There’s a hint of understanding in his gaze, mixed with caution, as he ponders the path this could lead down.

As the laughter begins to die down Price steps forward, his presence commanding a subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. He gives Soap and Gaz a brief nod, a clear signal that it’s time for them to leave. The moment for jokes has passed and it's time to restore some decorum. As they exit Soap can’t resist throwing one final teasing comment over his shoulder. “Take good care of her, Ghost!” he calls out as his tone is playful yet sincere.

Price remains a moment longer his gaze lingering on Ghost and then shifting to you, asleep and unaware of the exchange. There’s a quiet gravity to his demeanor, an unspoken reminder of his leadership role and his understanding of the deeper currents flowing beneath the surface of his team’s interactions.

Captain Price approaches Ghost, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. He pauses beside him, his voice low and measured to ensure privacy. "Simon," he begins. His tone serious but not without warmth, "you're handling this well and it's clear you care deeply. Just remember, maintaining balance is crucial." His eyes, steady and understanding, meet Ghost's, acknowledging the depth of his concern while gently reminding him of his broader responsibilities.

"Don't lose focus. We rely on you—not just for her, but for the whole team," Price continues, his voice softening slightly to underscore his supportive intent.

Ghost nods, the gravity of Price's words resonating with him. "Understood, sir," he responds, his tone reflecting both respect for Price's leadership and an acute awareness of the weight on his shoulders.

Price places a hand on Ghost's shoulder, a gesture that speaks of his care and mutual respect. "Keep me posted. If there's anything you need don't hesitate to ask," he adds. Emphasizing his role not just as a commander but as a supporter willing to provide resources rather than merely oversee.

"Will do, sir," Ghost says, his voice steady as he watches Price prepare to leave the infirmary. Price gives him one last affirming nod—an acknowledgment of Ghost's commitment and his understanding of the emotional complexities involved. As Price walks away his demeanor reflects as a leader who trusts his team to handle personal challenges with professionalism yet remains ready to step in if the balance shifts too far.

Once alone again Ghost turns back to you, his expression softening as he adjusts the blanket around you and checks the monitors to ensure everything is as it should be. In these quiet moments his demeanor reveals the profound loyalty and protectiveness he feels. Traits that define him just as much as his combat skills.

The room is quiet, the only sounds are the gentle beeping of the medical equipment and your steady breathing. In this sanctuary away from the battlefield's chaos, Ghost’s vigilance continues, a promise of unwavering support.

In the dimly lit infirmary, the soft beeps of the monitor blend with the quiet sounds of the night. Ghost sits closely by your side, his eyes tracing over your peaceful face, contrasting sharply with the day’s earlier tension. The room is calm now, the urgency has passed, but the weight of the day lingers in the air heavy with unspoken words.

Leaning closer Ghost watches you for a long moment. His expression a mix of concern and something softer, more vulnerable. He knows you can’t hear him, but the words slip out quietly anyway. A whisper meant only for you. "You’re killing me here, love," he murmurs. The hint of a smile touching his lips despite the worry in his eyes. It’s a rare admission. One that reveals just how deeply he’s been affected by your condition.

He sighs lightly, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the room. Adjusting the blanket around you one last time to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible, he finally leans back in his chair. His gaze remains fixed on you a moment longer as a guardian watching over you.

Realizing the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion settling into his bones Ghost decides he wasn’t willing to leave you yet. Not when you’d hardly regained consciousness and certainly not when you might need him upon waking. He shifts to make himself as comfortable as possible in the chair beside your bed, his body angled to keep you in sight.

As he settles in, his eyes slowly close but it’s clear he’s not completely given over to sleep. Even in rest, he’s alert, ready to wake at the slightest change in your condition. In this quiet vigil, his presence is both a promise and a protection. A steadfast commitment to be there for you when you finally do wake.

The night deepens around the two of you. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor a constant in the otherwise still room. Ghost, in his chair, remains by your side. A figure in the dim light embodying both the warrior and the caretaker in this rare moment of peace.

As the first light of dawn begins to filter through the blinds of the infirmary your eyes flutter open greeting the new day with a mix of confusion and sluggish awareness. Initially, your vision is blurry, the shapes and colors of the room melding into indistinct forms. Gradually though your eyes adjust, and the figure slumped in the chair beside your bed comes into sharper focus. Ghost, asleep, his head resting awkwardly against the wall.

The sight of him so uncharacteristically vulnerable in sleep immediately warms your heart. Despite the residual fog clouding your mind a soft smile plays on your lips. "Ghost," you call out, your voice hoarse but audible enough to stir him from his light slumber.

At the sound of your voice Ghost snaps awake, instantly alert. He straightens up before rubbing the stiffness from his neck as he turns to face you. His eyes that displayed a flicker of reprieve meet yours. "Hey, you're awake," he says. His voice rough with sleep but tinged with unmistakable relief. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, thanks to you," you reply. Your voice was still weak but filled with gratitude. "You stayed all night?"

Ghost nods, a soft expression crossing his face as he hears your voice. This subtle return to normalcy reassures him. Warming his heart and letting him know you must be feeling a bit better to revert to familiar terms. "Yes, I stayed. Didn’t want you to wake up alone here," he replies. His tone gentle. Ghost’s eyes scan your face for signs of pain or lingering confusion, ever the vigilant guardian.

"Thanks, Ghost. Really," you manage to say feeling comforted not only by his presence but also by the return to a semblance of normalcy. His constant vigilance, even as you slept, speaks volumes of his dedication not just to his duty but to you personally.

Ghost offers a slight smile, one that reaches his eyes this time. "No need to thank me. Just glad to see you're doing better," he says. He pulls a chair closer to your bed, settling in. "Need anything? Water? More pain meds?" he asks. Ready to assist with whatever you might need.

The simple exchange is light yet filled with unspoken care helps to ease the remaining tension from the ordeal. As Ghost continues to make sure you’re comfortable, you feel a profound sense of safety and appreciation for the bond that has only deepened through this experience. The conversation drifts into a comfortable silence filled with unspoken understanding and mutual respect. In this quiet early morning hour, a new layer of your relationship has been gently unfolded. Revealing the depth of connection that hardship and vulnerability can foster.

As the morning sun continues to pour a warm glow into the infirmary the doctor finishes his examination and nods with satisfaction. "You’ve made a remarkable recovery. I think you're ready to be discharged today. Just remember to take it easy for the next few days," he advises as he begins to pack away his equipment.

Ghost's reaction is almost immediate, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you sure she’s ready?" he questions the doctor. His voice carrying a protective edge that makes you smile inwardly. His overt protectiveness is both touching and reassuring. A stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

The doctor, accustomed to dealing with the cautious nature of soldiers about their comrades, reassures him with a confident nod. "Yes, she's stable. Just ensure she rests and avoids any strenuous activity. She should be fine," he explains patiently.

Despite the reassurance Ghost still looks unconvinced. His gaze flicking back to you, searching for any sign of discomfort or lingering weakness. "Maybe another day for observation?" he suggests. His tone half-questioning, half-requesting. It's evident he'd prefer you stay under medical supervision a bit longer.

Your heart warms at his concern and though you find his overprotectiveness endearing, you keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead, offering him a reassuring squeeze of his hand instead. "Ghost, I think I’ll be okay," you assure him gently trying to alleviate his worries.

Ghost manages a small smile. His usual impassive facade softening. "Just making sure," he mutters. Though his eyes remain tender with concern. He finally nods accepting the doctor's verdict, but his posture stays alert, protective.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that. But we’re taking it slow for the next few days. I’ll let Price know." he declares. His tone firm, directed more at himself than anyone else.

As the doctor leaves Ghost assists you in gathering your belongings. His movements careful and considerate. He checks in frequently asking if you're feeling alright to continue, his cautiousness evident but heartening. It’s clear that although you’ve been given the all-clear Ghost will be keeping a close eye on you, ensuring your recovery proceeds without issue.

His unwavering attention not only makes you feel deeply cared for but also subtly deepens the bond between you, underscoring a shift in your relationship where his role as protector has become as instinctive as it is essential.

As you swing your legs off the bed and attempt to stand a momentary wave of dizziness makes your legs waver slightly. Instantly, Ghost is there, his hand firm on your waist, steadying you. His touch is gentle yet secure, grounding you in the moment.

You laugh it off with a light flush coloring your cheeks. "Just wobbly legs," you joke trying to ease the tension you feel from his close presence. Despite your attempt to downplay the situation your movements are still a bit too brisk. A clear sign you might be overestimating your current strength.

Ghost doesn't smile but there's a tenderness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "Take it slow, love," he advises, his tone almost demanding. His hand remains on your back as a discreet but constant presence. He guides you slowly out of the infirmary. You feel the steadiness of his support with each step you take. His careful pace ensures you don't overexert yourself, allowing you time to adjust as you walk. The corridor seems longer than you remember but Ghost’s reassuring presence makes the journey feel safer, more manageable.

"You don’t have to rush this," he continues. Sensing your eagerness to prove your recovery. "We’ll get there when we get there." His words are simple but effective reminding you that your health is the priority not the speed of your recovery.

As you proceed you lean slightly into his support realizing how crucial his support has been, not just physically but also emotionally. Ghost’s unwavering steadiness helps bolster your confidence, making you feel that no matter how shaky your steps might be you won't fall as long as he’s by your side.

The walk back to your room is quiet but comfortable. It’s filled with an unspoken understanding that something significant has shifted between you. When you reach your door, Ghost finally pulls his hand away, but the warmth of his touch lingers.

"Thanks again, Ghost. For everything," you say while meeting his gaze. It's an open acknowledgment of all he's done and all he might continue to do.

"Anytime, love. Just... please take care of yourself," he responds. There’s a promise in his words, an implication that he'll always be nearby, watching over you.

As you reach the door to your quarters, Simon pauses, his hand resting lightly against the frame. "Can I help you get settled back in?" he asks. His tone as soft as it has been before, something new that has overcome him in your incident. His concern clearly evident.

You nod, touched by his attentiveness and as you enter your room he follows close behind. Simon watches carefully as you slowly make your way to your bed and sit down, still feeling a bit shaky. The room is familiar and comforting but his presence makes it feel even safer, more serene.

Once you're seated on the bed, he scans the room quickly, always alert for what you might need. "You sure you don't need anything else? Some more water? A snack?” Ghost asks, already moving towards your small kitchenette. He assumed a role that went beyond duty into something more personal.

You smile at his back, warmed by his concern. "I’m fine, Ghost. Really," you reassure him. But he shakes his head, not entirely convinced.

"It's no trouble at all. You should eat something," he insists gently while fetching a glass of water and a small snack from your stash. Simple things that you hadn't thought you’d needed until he presented them. As he hands you the glass his fingers brush yours lightly, sending a small, unexpected shiver up your arm. You thank him with a soft smile, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Noticing a few strands of hair falling over your face, Simon reaches out and gently brushes them back, his touch delicate and caring. His hand lingers for a moment, a silent expression of his deeper feelings.

You’re momentarily stunned but thrilled, nonetheless. You find it hard to find words as his hand lingers on your face. "I know I keep thanking you but thanks again Simon. For... well, for everything," you say after a moment. Your voice low and sincere. Using his first name feels natural, reflecting the shift in your relationship.

He pauses, looking into your eyes with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be," he replies. His voice so soft it’s nearly a whisper, revealing the depth of his feelings.

"If you need anything else, just let me know. I'll be just a call away, love," He adds imbued with a warmth that reassures and comforts. His use of ‘love’ is tender, an endearment that resonates deeply, marking a significant moment in your ever evolving relationship.

He gives you a lingering look that was filled with care and a promise of protection before he reluctantly steps towards the door. There's a hint of hesitation in his movement, a subtle pause that conveys his desire to stay longer.

As he exits, gently closing the door behind him, you lie back against your pillows, the glass of water in your hand. His presence has left a comforting warmth in the room. A sense of safety that lulls you towards rest. The thought of Simon being just a call away brings a smile to your face. And as you close your eyes it’s not just the fatigue that makes you feel at ease. It’s knowing Simon is there, caring for you with a tenderness that goes beyond the call of duty.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[inklore]

🩸 — 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍!

since the spooky season is fast approaching, and as a little kinktober appetizer, @psychedelic-ink and i have decided to do a little writing challenge to get us all excited and in the mood to be gripping the sheets from the spooky thrills of course.

and to keep this fun we have given you many many options! we have compiled a twelve day prompts list you can go by, or if that's not your thing we have listed twenty three different pick and choose options to create whatever kind of fic you want, even if you want to do half the days daily prompts but switch out this prompt dialogue for that au or trope or kink, you can literally do whatever your heart desires!

THE RULES.

the challenge will go on from the 19th - 30th of this month. you can do as many or as little amount of days as you choose.

any fandoms are welcome, literally any characters, ships, but please no rpf.

no minors should be interacting with let alone posting for this challenge.

dark content, light content, dubcon/noncon, is all welcomed but please tag everything accordingly. grooming, underage, and incest however are not allowed.

there are no word limits but please use that readmore.

tag #hauntedhoedown so we can read and reblog your work!

DAY ONE: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

DAY TWO: murder plot au (lets kill this person together) + "crawl to me"

DAY THREE: inspired by your favorite lana del rey song (if not a lana fan then any fav song of yours) + stalker / yandere au or love triangle gone wrong

DAY FOUR: artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing."

DAY FIVE: gothic au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.” + a masquerade au or a good ol' priest au

DAY SIX: animal shapeshifter au + "he's a monster" + "he's perfect"

DAY SEVEN: stranded au or slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

DAY EIGHT: cosmic horror au + "you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me."

DAY NINE: “do you like it when i bleed for you?” + the toxic exes trope or cult au

DAY TEN: zombie apocalypse au + "every moment might be our last, let's make the most of it."

DAY ELEVEN: black swan au or inspired by your fav psychological thriller + “they die for love, you kill for it.”

DAY TWELVE: vampire court au + "forever isn't long enough for me to forgive you."

if following the above isn't your thing and you want to pick and choose yourself that's great! we also highly rec this random generator if you wanna live life by the edge, each category has 23 options to pick and choose from so customize the generator accordingly!

AUs:

steampunk / cyber punk

fairytale retelling

revenge

mythology / monster

virtual reality

gothic

taboo (see great options here)

slasher

game gone wrong

witchcraft

addams family

bonnie and clyde

spy / secret agent

assassins

x-files

circus / carnival

hitch hiking

basement wife

time travel

urban legend(s)

american horror story inspired

vampire / supernatural

pirate / mermaid

DIALOGUE PROMPTS:

"do you like when i touch you like this? i can keep going if you want me to."

"i can see how badly you want this, so i'm going to make sure you get it." 

“this fear you feel? it won't last.”

“you are mine, whether you agree or not.”

“why do you keep following me?”

"i can't stop thinking about how perfect we would be together."

"you're not actually scared are you? of me?"

"i'm so close, can you feel it?"

"tell me what you want me to do and i'll do it, no matter the cost."

"you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left."

"i want to see you bleed."

"they're dead...because of you."

“i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

“everything i've done.. every horrible atrocity, it's been for you.”

"it's just a little blood."

“don't you know how sick with love i am for you?”

“i would burn the world for you.”

"this is so fucked up." "you like it."

"finders keepers."

"what's your favorite scary movie?"

"tell me you want me back. tell me i'm forgiven."

"you're a monster." "that's never stopped you before."

"i've killed for you, who else can say that?"

TROPES:

mob / mafia

soft!dark

dubcon / noncon

soulmate / fated mates

mind control / telepathy

cheating

final girl

once is not enough

haunted manor

dark academia

enemies to lovers

haunted object

vengeful ghost

coven

ritual / sacrifice / blood magic

unrequited love

creation / creator vs monster

'i'll find you in every universe / century'

reverse harem

cursed / fuck or die

curiosity killed the cat

theatre phantom

fate worse than death

KINKS:

biting

corruption / authoritarian

somnophilia

begging

dacryphilia

breath play

knife play / blood play

jealousy / sharing / possessive

aphrodisiacs

hunter / prey

humiliation / degradation

mirror sex

deprivation / immobilized / bondage

costume

size

orgasm denial / overstimulation / edging

body worship

shotgunning / swallowing / facial

gagging

torture / surrender

hate sex / make up sex / phone sex

magical healing [redacted]

soft!dom / pleasure!dom

ETC PROMPTS:

a summer fling gone horrible wrong, or right

1970s porno filming (turned into a blood bath)

touch her and die except who the hell are you and why are you obsessed with me?

a trip to the circus (or carnival) ends with you stuck there...forever

you just inherited this creepy mansion where people where murdered what could go wrong?

a ritual gone wrong and now i'm bound to a demon

if 'this person' ever found out about this they would kill both of us (literally)

oh no i'm dating the town serial killer

passionate professor tells me to prove my devotion to the craft / class by doing something insane

we're the last people on the planet and you will be mine

daydreaming about being with you is better than actually being with you because i missed all the red flags and now it's too late

i got casted out of my world and ended up wounded and bloodied in your backyard, convince me why i shouldn't destroy your world out of anger

vampire has a taste for specific blood and looks like you have it

the creepy neighbor is too hot to be insane, right?

i keep seeing them in my dreams and i wake up with bruises and marks on my skin, it's definitely just wild dreams, right?

loving you is easier than hating you

got stranded in some little town that seems so cute, until night hits

'this person' ordered me to kill you but i actually think i'm in love with you

my lover is wearing the same costume as you and i can't tell the difference but i'm pretty sure it's them i'm fucking in this closet...pretty sure

confessing to a murder via a silly little ghost story around a campfire (but someone reads through the lies)

how far would you go for love? for the one you love?

in a past life you were the cause of my death so i'm here to exact revenge now that i've found you

we're at a fun little horror movie reenactment except people are really dying

we tried to make this writing challenge as fun and very 'choose your own adventure-like' as much as possible because we know how hard it is to stay motivated when doing these things.

so please feel free to use any and all of the prompts, tropes, kinks, etc as you wish. we're just super excited to see what ya'll come up with!!

so good luck and stay slutty spooky <3

[princessozera]

so, random thought, there's a good chance the demon bros inadvertently harmed mc in some capacity just because human and demon limits are so vastly different, and the main human any have had contact with is Solomon, whose humanity is somewhat debatable. mc might act like they're invincible, but they are human in the end, and human durability is largely that we can keep going after almost any injury, not that we don't get injured

like Lucifer strings them up as he would his brothers, forgetting (assume he's really tired or stressed or whatever) that doing so puts a lot of pressure on the body and can cause actual damage instead of just being annoying like it is to his brothers. depending on how exactly he ties them up it'd change the effects but it's never gonna be great for them

Mammon running away from shenanigans with them and he tugs on their hand a bit too hard and fast to get them safely around a corner and dislocates their shoulder in the process because force = mass x speed and Mammon is a speedy boy. or he's running from Lucifer and slams into them at top speed, and if they can't protect their head from the wall/floor you know Mams is freaking out because mc is all out of it and there's so much blood and he doesn't care how Lucifer punishes him as long as he makes sure mc is alright

otaku Levi with his nonexistent sleep schedule doesn't realise just how badly sleep deprivation affects humans. paranoia, weakened immune system, depersonalisation, all the way to sleep deprivation psychosis. you go 96 hours or 4 days without sleep and lemme tell you, you ain't properly attached to reality anymore. been there, done that, would not recommend. there were bugs crawling all over my arms and legs and shadow people whispering. fucking sucked, and I was constantly shaking so I kept dropping stuff

if anyone knows about human durability, at least in theory, it's Satan, but the avatar of wrath can be emotionally charged. he really didn't mean to hurt them, but he was trying so hard not to lose it that day and as he led mc out of his room so they wouldn't be caught in the inevitable explosion, his deadly sharp claws nicked their skin. the wounds were mostly superficial— hurt like a bitch but no major arteries were damaged— but there was quite a lot of blood and Satan felt sick in a way he never had before. humans scar easily, a useful trait to close open wounds quickly, but Satan hates that he was the cause of those raised lines

Asmo is probably best at remembering since he hangs out with Solomon and has had human lovers before, but he is mostly around Solomon who cannot die. so he doesn't always remember what is and isn't toxic for humans, especially since a lot of poisons are used in medicines at lower doses and a lot of things we need to live are poisonous if we consume enough. it'd only take one slip up to put mc in hospital, and of course they don't blame him but he begs Satan to teach him as much as he can so it never happens again

you know Beel would try his best to remember, and he'd feel horribly guilty if he ever hurt mc, but he's big and strong even by demon standards and can eat anything that isn't Solomon's cooking. there's a few ways this one could go— sharing food with them that's toxic to humans, hugging them a bit too hard, mc giving him their food and going hungry, they work out together and they get hurt... take your pick

and Belphie knows all too well how fragile mc is, so he's very careful with his demonic strength around them. he already killed them once with barely any effort. but one day he wakes up from napping with mc to find he held them too hard and they're bruising. maybe his arm curled around their neck as it bloomed black and blue once again. Belphie doesn't nap with them for a while after that

! ANON! 💕💕💕💕

I don't know how you sniped me from across the highway but whump/injuries are exactly my cup of obsession and I've thought about this forever- i just never really had enough to make a full post. I LOVE your ideas and I hope you dont mind me bouncing some of my own off them;

----

Lucifer and his funny little habit of hanging his brothers 💕 Say he takes pity on MC, makes sure they're right side up, nothing around the neck and only tied beneath the arms and around the legs. Plans to take them down in 5 minutes, really it was meant to be the pet equivalent of air jail. But a call here, difficulties there and 5 minutes turn to 10 and then it slips to 15. It's so little time, absolutely nothing compared to the nights he's left Mammon up over the banister.

So why are there screams in the hall? Why are Asmo, Mammon and Levi on the phone with Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon respectively? He doesn't understand why they don't immediatley drop MC down, only catching the tail end of Solomon explaing something called "suspension trauma" to Asmo. When they do get MC down, even from a distance he can see the color is almost completely gone from their face, while their legs are a few shades darker. He watches Satan mouth out the count for MC's pulse, quick and staggering. When MC wakes, they can't seem to take a proper breath- gasping, clutching their chest, tearing up and confused. There isn't much more any of them can do, other than stand back and hand MC over to Barbatos and Solomon.

----

In a movie, it would be considered slapstick comedy, the way that Mammon skid around a corner full speed, carpet pulling under his feet , hip checking the wall as he ran away from Lucifer. In a movie it would be hilarious they way him and MC crashed, sending them literally flying back, head bouncing off the wall, swirls in their eyes and stars dancing around their head. In a movie they would only need to shake it off and get up to yell at him, with Lucifer standing back and watching in smug satisfaction.

But there wasn't anything funny about this, MC slumped in his arms, blood turning his tshirt into a darker shade of black, making it tacky and stick onto his skin. They're awake, sort of? But their pupils aren't the same size, and the speech is slurred. There's a truce as Lucifer heals MC, and they get them to a proper doctor.

Mammon gets better at ducking and weaving around MC, it even helps him evade Lucifer better. But MC doesn't escape the dislocated shoulders, and unwanted popping of their knuckles when Mammon holds their hand too hard. Neither had known that after the first dislocation, its a lot easier to dislocate your should again. It's never intentional, but it always hurts- MC tries to breathe through it if there is an urgency, but Mammon catches the way they pointedly look away, trying to blink the tears away, and knows that he's- once again- failed to keep MC out of harm.

---------

Levi being MC's energy drink dealer. He doesnt know why they dont but their own, but he has plenty so he ultimately doesnt mind sharing. They're not attached at the hip so he doesnt see how little sleep MC is getting, a single can carrying them through 2 whole days. They know its time to 1-up again when their heart stops sounding like helicopter blades.

He finds them on the floor of their room, rubbing their arms raw with the hard bristle brush Asmo uses to buff his horns, babbling incoherently to themselves.

-----

With Satan the physical is NEVER intentional, as much as he used to rage in the early days of the fall, the thought of hurting MC didn't sit well with him. But tiny nicks are so easy to cause when even his regular nails are sharper than a humans'. If MC can keep their reactions subtle, it wont be until Satan is laying in their lap that he notices the "freckles" on their arms don't quite lay flat.

When you're used to fast reflexes, you don't think twice about slamming a door in someone's face. Someone (MC) who was too close and now has a broken, bloody nose. Now whenever the snore in their sleep, or their nose whistles when they laugh too hard, Satan remembers opening the door to MC doubled over, blood leaking from between their fingers as they tried to put pressure on the bridge of their nose.

-------

Dosage and concentration.

Asmo is vaugely familiar with these terms- SPF strength, alcohol proofing, acidity in his skin care. He's had so many spa nights with Solomon that he doesn't think twice about sharing his skin care routine with MC as well. Powders, gels, creams, exfoliants. Some a bit too harsh, MC's skin turns warm and flush, so he thinks their skin is sensitive. He'd ask for help caring for his wings and horns. MC goes in with their bare hands to get a good scrub, attributing the burn to the rough edges and upturned edges of Asmo's horns. It feels like icyhot, so it must be working. When they're done, Asmo tries to take the rest of the cream off their hands to apply to his hands, but they both scream as a visible layer of skin from MC starts peeling off as well. The acid having fulling numbed and killed off most of the senses in MC's hand, had started to deteriorate the skin, and its by some small blessing that MC hadnt already applied it to their face. It takes a panicked called to Solomon to get the feeling back into MC's hands, but it still takes weeks for the skin to grow back on to their hands. The pain of bandages on raw muscle is excruciating, and Asmo sticks to them like glue, fully taking the blame for their condition.

-----

Beel and Belphie have another trauma to share as twins- nearly killing MC in their sleep! Beel doesnt understand how heavy an unconcious body can be, and being as large as he is, this becomes a problem the first time him and MC share a bed. He falls asleep with an arm draped over them, but exhaustion from practice has him rolling on to them. Even if not entirely covering them, the weight on their chest makes it hard to breathe and MC soon drops nicities and is trying their damnest to get him off or at least wake him up. Its a panicked use of the pacts to call another brother that saves them, and Beel cant sleep for the rest of the night.

Belphie doesn't have as many night terrors these days, but they can still get bad. Usually sleeping with MC can keep these dreams at bay, but on nights that they dont, he wakes up to find MC tossed onto the floor or squeezed between him and the wall. On the worsts of these nights, he woke up to MC screaming, having wrapped a hand and tail so tightly around their arm that it shattered in 2 places.

(Can I also offer a beel and belphie alternative: MC wanting to match Beel's stamina/ gym workout time and getting muscle deterioration. Belphie wanting a sleeping partner so he messes up their sleeping cycles, 10+ hrs asleep, accidentally depriving them of light, water, and food, causing a depressive episode)

[goodnightoilcountry]

you must like me for me - quinn hughes (a sneak peek !)

a/n: another fic idea i've had in my head for ages ! i started writing it the other day when i was sick and it's currently at 3k words. i'm CONFIDENT that i'll smash this one out quicker than my aho fic so it's the only reason i feel like i can post a sneak peak. but also let me know if you have any requests or ideas you'd like me to write about - i'd love to hear from you 🤍

summary: twelve months since the incident and you're ready to let yourself re-emerge into the public eye in the form of a hockey game. the plan was simple: appear, smile, leave unscathed. easy, right?

The theory of fight or flight has always fascinated you. In the face of adversity, no matter how complex the situation, millions of years of evolution still dictate that humanity will always revert to its oldest survival mechanism: to either assert and neutralize, or: evade and withdraw. 

What you’ve come to learn is that there’s a third strategy nestled between fight or flight, often overlooked because of its passiveness in comparison to its overt counterparts: to freeze. 

And that’s the instinct you’ve found yourself falling back on time and time again. As if you’re hoping to blend into the very fabric of the environment where you can pause amid the chaos, weigh the risks, and soundly determine the best course of action. 

The downturn? 

You’re left vulnerable and exposed the longer you wait. 

But it’s a tactic that you’ve grown familiar with, and it’s the one that’s currently in motion. 

“You can’t do this to her, she isn’t ready.”

“It’s been over a year, we can’t let her hide forever.” 

The commotion of voices being thrown around surrounds you but you’re too swept up with the memories and emotions battling out in your head. They’re leaving you dizzy and disorientated. 

One year. Had it really been that long? God. It feels like one month since you first signed your contract in front of a roomful of lawyers and high-powered executives. Back then, you were too naively charmed by the golden promises of stardom and fame that they were selling you. Promising that your talent for lyricism, bordering on poetry, would resonate with the hearts of girls who all seemed to unanimously share the parallel experiences of all things love and girlhood. That you needed a team that could provide you with the right connections and the right opportunities to get you there. 

And to their credit, they didn’t fail you. As soon as you signed your contract, the label had you in the studio effective immediately with the release of “your” song debuting four weeks later. 

“But I didn’t write this and it doesn’t really sound like me…” 

“Don’t worry about it, honey. We just need to get you on the charts and then you can write about anything you want. Trust us - this is how it all works.” 

And trust them you did.

Your song topped the charts for twelve consecutive weeks. The events that took place after your overnight success were a whirlwind. You released a music video. You did media interviews. You collabed with DJs to release remixes. You performed as a guest on endless TV shows. And when you were done, you thought that you would finally be able to sit down with your producers to start developing the library of ideas and single-line lyrics you had swimming around in your head. 

But they had other plans for you in the form of a studio album, and then rinse and repeat. You felt like you were a human cannonball: shot out, forced to perform carefully curated tricks, and to always stick the landing. 

Your team had done everything they could to meticulously craft your image; selectively allowing journalists to access certain stories whether it be about your work or your life. You were America’s Darling. Until you weren’t. 

A sharp trill of your name grounds you back into reality. You blink and recompose yourself, finding the same four people you entered the boardroom with, staring expectantly back at you. Your mom, your manager, Megan, your publicist, Bec, and sat opposite you across the insanely large table is the VP of your label, Joe. Their expressions are ones you’ve grown used to: sympathetic and slightly defeated.  

“Sorry, what was the question?” 

Megan sighs and shifts slightly in her chair to meet your front. “Darling, I know how hard this year has been for you,” 

Do you? 

“But it’s time for us to come back out. We need to face this.” 

In all the years you’ve worked with Megan, she has never offered you such softness in her voice as she has now. As a manager, a female manager in this industry nonetheless, she had been nothing short of headstrong, sharp, and commanding. Her confidence and demeanour never wavered and, if you were being honest, you were thankful that she held you to the same standard as the rest of your team. It equipped you with a thick skin, something that you wouldn’t have survived your young career without. And it leaves you to wonder where you would be now without her to guide you through this situation. 

“Megan is right,” Joe says. “The world hasn’t forgotten, you know.” 

It comes out so matter-of-factly that it feels almost accusatory. 

“You’re not the first celebrity to be wrapped up in a scandal and you certainly won’t be the last.” 

That line is enough to make your mom snap into a fury again. 

“A scandal? She did nothing wrong,” she chastises. “What that boy did is not her fault.” 

Joe’s impatience is growing evident with every turn of the conversation. As warranted as your mother’s protectiveness is for this particular circumstance, her resistance was stopping one of his biggest artists from bringing in the label money. You can tell he's trying his best to level his demeanour but you also know that the higher-ups are breathing down his neck. He's balancing it as well as anyone could.

“This wasn’t just any boy. And your daughter is not just any girl. The reality of the situation is that just because she wasn’t responsible for what happened, doesn’t mean we can simply erase her from it,” Joe breaks, voice raising ever so slightly.

“She cannot keep silent on this anymore and the longer we stretch this out, the more intense the backlash will be upon her,” he presses on. “With all due respect, we have been extremely patient and have afforded your daughter twelve months. But this is a business first and there is a contract to be upheld. We are giving you the opportunity to write the narrative or have it forced to be written for you.” 

“He’s right,” Bec interjects. She’s always had a good gauge of when to step in when tensions start rising. It’s what makes her such a great publicist - always mediating at the right time. 

“But we don’t have to rush either. We can take it slowly. Start off with a public appearance in a controlled environment. 

The juxtaposition of that sentence could have made you laugh. Controlled environment? If the last few years had taught you anything, it was that no public appearance was ever fully in your control. Your phone number had been leaked more times than you could remember; the media showed up at your house at all hours of the night; private family events were invaded by obsessed “fans”. 

Your mom was quick to make the same connection, “where could we possibly let her go that guarantees her safety?” 

“The suite at MSG has their security system locked down to a tee. We could place her in there with a few friends and guise it as a quiet night out to show their support. Maybe work with the organisation to show her on the scoreboard during a break, totally candid of course, and maybe meet with their guest of the night for some fan engagement. We don’t want the public to misconstrue the appearance as a total cover-up.” Bec rattles off like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Megan and Joe start nodding in agreeance, chiming in with additional tweaks to the plan that’s now been laid out, and it becomes apparent to you that they’ve had this meeting before without you. Your requested input and presence on the matter was just an act of courtesy. But as vexed as you are with this realisation, you know it makes sense. You were tired of the pitied looks your family and friends gave you, afraid to broach the subject as if it would send you into a spiral. You felt like the public owned you; shunning you into silence with all your actions picked apart and psychoanalyzed everywhere you turned. 

You missed your fans who called for you every day, writing sweet notes of encouragement and rebuffing shallow attempts of hate accounts concocting false stories. You wouldn’t be half the artist you are today without them and they deserved more than just radio silence. And it’s this last thought that makes you believe it’s the only reason you say:

“Just tell me when.” 

[cheegu3]

Maybe whenever you can no rush! If u can do a Yandere ENHYPEN hyung line where the reader maybe has a pregnancy scare it’s up to you if the reader actually is or isn’t pregnant:)

tw / trigger warning; yandere themes, NSFW, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, talks of abortion, forced abortion, murder, pregnancy, possessiveness, jealousy, pregnancy scare, breeding/preg kink

this is heavy so don't read if it makes u uncomfortable !!

note; I could NOT find a matching pic for heeseung 💀💀

Enhypen - reaction to s/o having a pregnancy scare

Heeseung

Probably has a breeding kink and has waited a long time to get you pregnant. Heeseung believes it's the ultimate way to be connected to you forever, which is all that he has ever wanted.

If you were on birth control, he'd hide them from you or purposefully try to make you forget to take them by distracting you.

Therefor he won't let you have an abortion even if you wanted to. He'll prevent you from leaving his house; putting up cameras and asking for help from the people around him to watch you.

It's also to make sure you won't have an '' accident ''. If he's watching you 24/7 no such thing will ever happen, and it puts his mind at ease.

You told him before even taking a pregnancy test that you thought you might be pregnant. The early symptoms were there - nausea, fatigue and light cramps, as well as a missed period.

You dreaded his reaction, just because you knew exactly what it'd be like. Your boyfriend might've thought you didn't hear what he said while he was fucking you, but you did. After some time, you realised he was trying to get you pregnant by interfering with you taking the pill, it seemed that you had only realised it too late.

The door opened and you blurted it out without wasting much time as soon as he stepped in.

'' Hee, I think I'm pregnant. ''

His movements stopped, and slowly his lit up eyes met your sad ones.

'' Fuck, I've been waiting so long for this. '' he whispered, almost eerily obsessive.

Jay

Doesn't want it at all and there will be no arguments about it. When you told him about your missed period, he felt sick to his stomach.

Knowing the decision was ultimately up to him however made him feel a little better. But he hesitated to force you to get an abortion. Jay wanted you to think he was the perfect boyfriend, that manipulated you into thinking you had a choice at all times, giving you a sense of control.

In reality, if you didn't want to get one after he'd gently bring it up as a suggestion, then it would disappear one way or another. Carefully he'd research how to get rid of it at home.

Your food would be tampered with and not long after, he would have to comfort you as you mysteriously started bleeding.

Of course, it was only a scare though. So thankfully he didn't have to put you or him through that. But still, there were a lot of things you weren't aware of what he was capable of doing just yet.

'' What does it say? ''

You both held your breaths.

'' Negative, '' you murmured, feeling your face drop.

You were trying to control your disappointment, not wanting it to show to your boyfriend who must be devastated. But when you saw him in the corner of your eye, your mouth fell open.

'' You're...happy? ''

His smirk that was spreading quickly turned into irritation as your sniffles filled the small bathroom.

Jake

He's fine with whatever you want to do. If he was being honest with himself, the thought of you being pregnant with his child made his chest swell with pride and turned him on at the same time.

It would be a definite way to make less men flirt with you. In Jake's sick head, that child would be proof to those men that he was the one who was fucking you and finishing inside you. He wanted them to know that so that they'd keep their eyes off of what was his.

Having his arm stuck around your waist wasn't enough. He needed them to see that you were a happy family and he was the man of your life that would always be there.

If it was just a scare however, he'd be disappointed, having already imagined himself as a dad and doting husband and fantasizing about it whenever he was alone. But he was also okay with it, knowing it was coming soon anyway.

'' I think it's real this time. '' you groaned, slowly turning the pregnancy test around.

Jake was grinning, he already had a feeling that it wasn't a scare this time as well.

Positive

You barely had time to react before he threw himself into your arms, kissing you and mumbling over and over how much he loved you.

The hands that hovered over his back, slowly fell down. Your mood was way different than his. You didn't want a lovesick freak to be the father of your kid, that's no way to live.

Sunghoon

He didn't want a baby but for different reasons. Firstly - the thought of having to share you with someone else made him feel hot with anger. He believed your attention should be on him all the time and you should only love him.

Second of all he was a bit scared of the complications that could come with you being pregnant. Although he was rich and had access to the best care in the world, he was terrified of any possibility that involved losing you.

If you died in childbirth, he knew he'd forever hate that kid for taking away the one thing he loved - and that was also another thing, he wouldn't love the child even if it was his own. He only loved you, and that's how it would always be.

'' Thank god. I don't want any kids. ''

Your forehead furrowed as you glowered at him.

'' I do, '' his head snapped towards you, looking angry now too. '' At some point. ''

'' No. ''

You scoffed at his stern and short tone.

'' What? What do you mean no? ''

'' I don't want any kids, you only need me. ''

'' But- ''

'' Do you want to get punished? '' he growled, voice growing dangerously low.

[omgrachwrites]

I Love You So - Dalton Lambert

Dalton Lambert x Reader

Warnings: spoilers for insidious 5, lil bit of fluff, angst, probs ooc Dalton, mentions of possessed!Dalton

Summary: After Dalton accidentally puts you in terrible danger, he makes a difficult decision.

A/N: Soooooo, I'm in love with another fictional character, never saw myself writing for this franchise! Please excuse the poor gif, this was the first one I've ever made! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! I love you all xxx

I'm gonna pack my things and leave you behind This feeling's old and I know that I've made up my mind I hope you feel what I felt when you shattered my soul 'Cause you were cruel and I'm a fool So please let me go

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

You stared at the clock on the wall behind your Professor as you willed time to go faster, you were just so restless, you needed to see him. It felt as though you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in weeks. In reality, it was only a few days, but a few days without any form of contact from Dalton felt like forever. You knew why you hadn’t seen or spoken to him, he felt guilty.

As soon as the bell rang, you packed up your things as quickly as possible, causing your friend to laugh at you. “that desperate to see your little Picasso?”

You rolled your eyes, “well I haven’t seen him for a few days, he’s been sick,” the lie fell from your lips so easily so you fooled even yourself into believing it was true, “I’ll see you later,” you waved at your friend before heading in the direction of Dalton’s dorm room on the other side of the school.

The door was open and he was standing at his easel when you walked in, his long hair loose around his shoulders. You smiled and kissed him on the cheek, “hey.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled and turned to face you, letting you give him a proper kiss, paint smudged across his forehead and along the bridge of his nose. He looked so gorgeous like this.

“Are you okay? You sounded freaked when you called,” you started as you sat at the end of his bed.

He sighed and sat next to you, fiddling with the frayed material of his jeans, “I guess that I’m just worried that the door won’t stay closed.”

“We’ll get through it together, just like we always do.”

A warm hand cupped your cheek, a thumb brushing over the cut on your cheek, “it’s going to scar,” he whispered, “I can’t believe that I hurt you.”

His big blue eyes welled up with tears and you placed your hand over the one he had on your cheek, “it wasn’t you. Dalton, I love you.”

He bit his lip as he stood abruptly, his fingers tangled in his hair. You let him pace around the room in silence, it looked like he was at war with himself. Finally, he looked at you sadly, “I can’t do this anymore, Y/N.”

Your heart plummeted as you stared at him, trying to process his words, “what?”

“I can’t let what happened last week ever happen again. I won’t let it happen again.”

You stood up and walked over to him, cupping his cheeks, “it won’t ever happen again.”

“Y/N, I can’t…” he trailed off, almost breathless, “I can’t take the risk. I have to let you go, I love you.”

“Who are you to make the decision for the both of us? You can’t just end our relationship just like that,” you snapped your fingers, “just because something bad has happened!” your voice was rising now but you couldn’t help it. It was like he was giving up.

Dalton took your hands in his, “do you think that this is easy for me? Y/N, I almost killed you.”

“But you didn’t!”

“But I wanted to!” he shouted, causing you to take a couple of steps backwards, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, looking pained. When he opened them they were full of tears again, “I could feel how much he wanted to hurt you. Wanted to kill you. I love you Y/N but I can’t put you in danger again, I won’t.”

The bitter words that had sprung to your lips had died on your tongue as you saw how broken he looked, “fine,” you whispered as tears rolled down your cheeks, “it seems as though you’ve made up your mind,” he opened his mouth to reply, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I don’t want to hear it, Dalton,” your voice broke, “just stay away from me,” you sniffled and quickly left the room.

As soon as you were in the safety of your own dorm, you broke down and sank to your knees, crying into your arms, you can’t believe he would just give up.

As the weather started to get warmer your heart seemed to mend itself, it was difficult, at first it the pain was unbearable and you didn’t know how you would be able to get through it, but you did. You and Dalton virtually lived on opposite sides of the school, you didn’t have any classes together and he hated parties so you didn’t come across him. Dalton hadn’t even tried to call, but maybe that was for the best. You wouldn’t have picked up if he had.

Soon yours and Dalton’s relationship seemed like a distant memory, like something out of a summer dream and just like she had the year before, Dalton’s mom invited you to their Fourth of July party. You debated on not going but you decided that you couldn’t avoid him forever. Sooner or later you would run into him.

That’s where you found yourself at the precise moment, you were in the Lambert’s back garden, speaking with one of their neighbours. As you went to get a refill on your drink, a tall handsome figure went to stand at your side. You looked up at him, it looked as though he hadn’t slept in months and he’d cut his hair.

“I can’t dream without you,” he mumbled and you raised an eyebrow.

“I thought that was the point.”

He shook his head, “no I mean, I can’t sleep without you. I need you Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb stroking across his skin gently, you still loved him, a part of you always would, “I can’t Dalton,” you sighed as his heart visibly broke and you stood up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his.

That was the last time you saw him for a very long time.

[atimeofyourlife]

Writing this because I've been in a flare-up of migraines and I want to make someone else suffer for it Cw: migraines and mentions of vomiting throughout, nothing graphic but it's there This was supposed to be quite short and quick but it ended up being 6.8k of making Steve suffer.

Migraines had almost always been a part of Steve's life, right from when he was young. They were genetic, his mother also suffered from them, as did his grandmother, two aunts, and three cousins.

His earliest memories included the times when his mother would be struck with a migraine, hiding in a dark room waiting for the pain to pass, barely able to move between the bed and the ensuite bathroom. Steve knew he couldn't play loudly at those times, as it would make it so much worse, and that he was only allowed to knock on the door in a real emergency.

He got his first migraine at age seven. He woke up with a pain that made his head feel like it was splitting in two. He tried to open his eyes but the small amount of light seeping in around his curtains made the pain so much worse. He could only let out a weak, pained cry before throwing up all over himself and his bed. He stayed sat in his bed, sobbing quietly with his eyes screwed up tight, not wanting to move and make more of a mess. He wanted his momma to be there and hold him, but anything he could do to get her attention would only be met with even more pain. After some time, to him, it felt like forever, but in reality, was only a few minutes, his mother came to wake him up.

"Steve, time to wake up, it's time for school." She opened the door as she called for him.

Steve whimpered as more light flooded into the room, even with his eyes closed it hurt.

"What happened, baby?" She asked as she took in the scene in front of her.

"Hurts, momma." He cried, wanting her to take away the pain.

"What hurts, Stevie? Is it your head?"

Steve barely managed a nod, the slightest movement causing the pain in his head to intensify.

"Oh, baby, let's get you cleaned up." She lifted him out of bed, not caring that his sick was transferring onto her shirt. She made sure his face was tucked into her neck to block out any light, before carrying him to the bathroom. She set him down by the toilet, and stripped him of his soiled clothing.

"I'll be back in a moment, I'm just going to get you some fresh jammies." She didn't wait for his response before slipping from the room, leaving the light off. He whined as she left, but had to quickly turn to face the toilet as he started to throw up again.

His momma came back quickly, having removed her dirty shirt while she was out of the room. She put the bundle of clean clothes on the side before kneeling next to Steve, rubbing his back gently until he stopped heaving. Once he was done, she cleaned him up with a washcloth, not wanting to make him wait while she drew a bath or make him stand under the shower. The clothes she'd brought in were his softest pajamas, and she picked him back up once he was dressed, carrying him back out of the bathroom, still trying to block out the light.

He thought she was taking him back to his bedroom, but it was taking longer, going downstairs. He opened his eyes a little after he was laid on a soft bed, realizing he was in the same room his momma normally spent her time in when she had a bad migraine. He whined and reached for her as she moved away.

"I need to go clean up, sweetheart. I'll be back with some medicine once I'm done."

The medicine didn't help, only coming straight back up with the little water he'd drunk. His momma joined him in bed, holding him close until he fell asleep.

When he woke up again, he still felt bad, but the pain in his head had got a bit better.

-

Steve continued to get migraines throughout his childhood, five or six times a year. If it fell on a school day, he would be called out for at least one day, often two or three as he got over the lasting effects of the migraines. Always waking up with it. And every time leaving him struggling in a dark room, and throwing up repeatedly.

The first time he had one around someone outside of his family, he was ten and having a sleepover at Tommy's house. He woke up in his sleeping bag on the floor with the pain in his head. He bit back a whimper of pain, not wanting Tommy to think he was weak. He didn't want to move, but knew he had to get up if he wanted to avoid throwing up on the floor. He got up slowly, carefully, but each move made the pain increase and worsened the nausea. He held a hand over his mouth and the other shielding the light from his eyes. He had to walk fast to get to the bathroom, starting to gag and trying not to retch on the way. He made it just inside the bathroom, but not quite to the toilet before his body gave in and he was throwing up on the tiled floor.

"Ew, gross." Came Tommy's voice from behind him, and Steve instantly felt worse. It was bad enough at home when he didn't make it to the toilet, or at least over a trash can, when he had to throw up from a migraine, even with his momma and so many others in the family knowing what it was like. But to get sick on the floor at someone else's house? Especially when Tommy's mom didn't take kindly to any mess in the house. It was mortifying. He let out a choked sob, and hopped around the puddle of sick to get to the toilet to throw up again.

"I- uh. I'm gonna go get Mom." Tommy backed out of the room, leaving Steve alone. A few tears started to spill over as he wished he was at home, or just anywhere else, somewhere he could curl up in the dark until the pain was gone.

When Mrs Hagan came into the room, he could feel her anger even before she spoke. She berated him loudly, for the mess, over who would clean it up, for the disrespect when he wouldn't look at her, instead keeping his face buried in his arms in an attempt to block out the worst of the light. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Migraine." Was the only word Steve was able to force out, barely above a whisper. Even saying just the one word made the pain spike, and he curled further into himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Mrs Hagan just scoffed, and left the room muttering about calling his parents. Steve just wanted his momma to pick him up and take him home. He didn't notice Tommy coming closer and sitting down next to him.

"What's a migraine?" Tommy asked, his voice softer than usual.

"Headache. Real bad headache." Steve murmured.

"So bad it makes you puke?"

Steve nodded once. "Light hurts."

"Oh." Tommy got up and moved across the room to turn the light off, and came back to sit with Steve.

They sat in silence until two sets of footsteps came along to the bathroom.

"You've been in here for so long and you haven't even tried to clean-" Mrs Hagan started, only to be cut off by Steve's mom.

"Stevie, is it a migraine?" She asked as she crossed the room, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor.

"Uh-huh. Momma, it hurts so bad."

"I know, baby. Let's get you home and in bed." She pulled a pair of dark sunglasses from her pocket, slipping them onto his face to block some of the light, before helping him to his feet. She couldn't lift him like she used to, but held him close so he could bury his face in her side.

"Who is going to clean up this mess, then?" Mrs Hagan demanded.

"You, maybe? It's something you could have done instead of shouting at a sick child for something he couldn't control. Just be thankful he made it to the tile, when he gets like this at home, half the time he doesn't even make it out of bed." Mrs Harrington's tone was quiet, not wanting to make Steve's migraine even worse, but firm and cold. She kept her arm wrapped tight around Steve's shoulders as she guided him from the bathroom.

"I've got your stuff. Feel better, Steve." Tommy came out of his room with Steve's bag.

Steve allowed his mom to take him through the house and out to the car. She buckled him into the backseat, with a bucket beside him in an attempt to protect the upholstery. All he wanted to do was get home, so he could curl up in a dark room and try to sleep it off.

-

Steve's parents started leaving him home alone on occasion when he was twelve. Starting with a day or two at a time, getting a bit longer as he got older.

Luckily, they were never both away when he got a migraine, until a little after he turned fifteen. He woke up one Friday morning, near the end of his freshman year, with the all too familiar pain in his head. The usual rush of nausea sent him lurching for his ensuite bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up.

"Momma?" He called weakly once he was done, only to be met with the silence in the house. It took a few moments for him to remember that he was home alone, his parents had left the day before and wouldn't be back until Sunday evening. He eased himself up and shuffled back into his bedroom so he could call his mom. He opened his eyes as little as possible to read the note with the hotel information on. He dialled the number, and gave the room details.

"Maria Harrington speaking?"

"Momma?" Steve couldn't help whimpering as the pain spiked.

"Oh, Stevie. Another migraine?" She asked.

"Yeah. It hurts so bad."

"Okay, go back to bed, and I'll call the school. Call me again tonight to let me know how you are." She directed.

"Yes, Momma. Love you."

"Love you too, feel better soon sweetheart."

Steve spent most of the day sleeping or running to the bathroom to throw up. He only managed to consume some cold water from the bathroom tap, not wanting to make the effort to get downstairs.

He woke in the early evening, feeling a little better, to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. He tried to drag himself out of bed, but the dizziness starting to take hold made it nearly impossible to move. After a few minutes, he heard the door open and shut, followed by footsteps on the stairs. "Steve, dude? You here?" He heard Tommy call.

"Bedroom." He replied, wincing a little. Tommy must have let himself in using the spare key for the movie night and sleepover they'd planned. At least they hadn't planned for a party.

"Oh, shit. One of your headaches?" Tommy asked as he came into Steve's room.

"Yeah." Steve pushed himself up into a vague sitting position.

"I guess I should go, then. You need anything?" Tommy offered.

"Can you grab me some water? And like toast or something?" Steve asked, settling back against his pillows. He hated cancelling and changing plans, but at least Tommy was understanding about it.

Tommy agreed and left the room, returning a few minutes later with the requested items. He handed the plate to Steve and put several bottles of water on the nightstand. "I would invite you over so you weren't alone, but-" he trailed off, but Steve knew what he was getting at. Ever since the time he'd thrown up on the bathroom floor at a sleepover, Mrs Hagan hadn't let him in the house.

"It's fine. If this doesn't make me puke, I'll just be sleeping it off."

-

After the fight with Jonathan, the migraines became more frequent, happening about once a month. He also got a little more light sensitivity on the days around a migraine, leading him to start carrying sunglasses with him at all times. Everything else was the same, waking up with the agonizing headache, throwing up multiple times, trying to sleep it off, then the lingering dizziness once the pain started to subside. But he had one other thing to contend with. Nancy.

The first one that really affected anything was in January. They hadn't gotten back together until mid-December, then Nancy had been busy with family over Christmas, so she never knew about the migraines Steve got in that time.

But come January, it was nearly impossible to avoid it, with the amount of time they were spending together. Steve was driving Nancy to school most days, and home if their schedules lined up. Date nights. Study dates. Biweekly dinners with Barb's parents.

It was a day when they were supposed to have one of those dinners after school, and Steve woke up with the blinding pain in his head. He rushed out of bed, stumbling as he got caught in his sheets. He knew he wouldn't get to the bathroom in time, so he lunged for the trash can by his desk. He curled around it as he emptied his stomach, throwing up violently.

"Steve?" His mom opened his door, obviously having heard the noise.

"Momma." Steve swallowed hard, trying to will away the nausea. "It's a migraine."

"I know, baby." She moved to sit with him, rubbing his back gently and holding his hair off his face as he started heaving again. "It's okay, Stevie. Get it all out, then you can go back to sleep."

Steve slumped against his mom once he was done, wanting the comfort she was offering and unable to find the energy to move back to bed.

"If you're finished, I can clean that out for you?" She offered after a few minutes, just getting a nod in reply. "Okay, then let's get you back in bed."

Steve whined a little as she helped him to his feet, and guided him back to bed. She tucked him in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Do you need anything?"

"Need to call Nance. Tell her I'm not coming." He mumbled.

"Do you want me to?" She offered.

Steve shook his head. "I can." He insisted, feeling around for the phone on his nightstand.

"Okay, baby. I'll check on you later." She left the room, taking the trash can with her.

Steve dialled the now-familiar number, hoping it would be Nancy answering, he didn't want to have to make small talk with her mom, or take her brother's attitude. It was Mrs Wheeler that answered, and he forced his way through the basic pleasantries and asking to speak to Nancy. He winced at the volume of the shout at the other end of the phone, before Nancy's voice came through.

"Nance, I can't make it today. I've got a migraine." He said, wanting the call to be done as soon as possible so he could try to get back to sleep.

"But we promised Barb's parents. We can't cancel just because you've got a headache." Nancy protested.

"It's not just a headache. I'm sick with it. It hurts so bad, I can barely get out of bed. I won't be in school, so can we please reschedule?" He was almost begging at the end, wanting to get off the phone and hating that Nancy wasn't believing him.

"Fine." Nancy huffed. "I've got to go."

Before he could respond, a dial tone came through. He hung up the phone and laid down, pulling the blankets right over his head in an attempt to block out the light filtering through his thin curtains.

Once he was well enough to be back at school, he explained his migraines to Nancy, the frequency, the symptoms. How they were different to normal headaches.

Right up until they broke up, if he cancelled because of a migraine, she always complained about him ditching her for just a headache.

-

After getting beaten by Billy, the migraines got worse. Way more frequent, two, three, four times a month. The pain was somehow more intense, the dizziness after was worse and lasted a lot longer. The light sensitivity was almost constant. And they would come on at random, not just when he woke up.

Multiple times he had to run out of class because a migraine started suddenly. Bursting into whatever bathroom was closest for him to throw up. More than once, he ended up in the girls' bathroom, but he couldn't bring himself to care as long as he wasn't puking on the floor.

People had different reactions, some girls freaking out when he ran into the bathroom. Some people assumed he had come into school hungover, others that he was on drugs. Sometimes people would offer help, but he was usually ignored. Tommy made a basic comment about the migraines being worse, but never tried to offer any help or comfort.

The worst one didn't hit at home, or even at school. He was driving home from the trip he'd taken to Indianapolis, and it hit as he came into Hawkins. He had to pull over quickly, opening his door just in time to throw up over the side of the road. He whined softly, knowing this was the worst place he could get a migraine. He was still in the wooded area before hitting the town, there were no houses this far out, so his only hope was if someone drove by and saw his car. As he retched and threw up again he wondered if he could get away with trying to sleep it off in the backseat, there was no way he could drive with the way he was feeling. A slam of a car door startled him, and he swore softly as it made the pain worse.

"Harrington?" He registered the gruff voice as belonging to Hopper, but he didn't respond. He heard the heavy footsteps coming closer. "Jesus Christ, kid. How much did you drink last night?"

"Not hungover," Steve mumbled, breathing slowly to try and ease the nausea. "Migraine."

"Shit. Are your parents home?"

Steve shook his head slowly. "Miami."

"Come on, I'll get you back to mine, so you can rest up." Hopper helped Steve out of the car, getting a few steps before Steve lurched forward onto his knees, throwing up a little into the grass. Hopper kept his hands on Steve's shoulders, steadying him so he wouldn't fall over.

"Sorry," Steve whispered, letting Hopper pull him back to his feet and guide him to Hopper's car.

"But-" Steve couldn't quite form the words, just gesturing vaguely in the direction of his car once he was in Hopper's passenger seat.

"Don't worry about it. We ain't far from the cabin, I'll come get it once you're settled." Hopper started the car, driving slowly.

Steve sat with his head back and eyes closed, hoping that he could hold off the nausea enough so he wouldn't throw up in someone else's car. It wasn't too much longer before the car pulled to a stop.

"Just a couple of minutes walk from here." Hopper got out of the car, and moved around to help Steve out. He kept an arm around Steve as he helped him to the cabin, not wanting him to fall over.

Once they were in the cabin, El perked up. "Is he hurt?" She asked cautiously.

"He's sick. Got a real bad headache, so we're going to have to be quiet, okay?" Hopper explained as he took Steve through the cabin. "Can you find the bucket from under the sink for me?"

Steve made a weak noise of protest as Hopper pushed him down onto a bed.

"You can sleep in here, it's my room. Sorry there's no door, but you can get some rest." Hopper explained, kneeling down to get Steve's shoes off when he didn't try to do it himself.

"No, I can sleep-" Steve started to protest, not wanting to put Hopper out of his bed.

"It's okay, kid. You need the bed more than me right now. I'll sleep on the couch tonight. Just try to hit the bucket if you're going to puke again."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it, instead pulling the covers over himself.

"I'll grab you some medicine, then I'll leave you to sleep."

Steve shook his head quickly, regretting it when it made the pain get worse for a moment. "Can't. Makes me sick."

When he woke up, it took him a few minutes to get his bearings and remember where he was. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but the intense dizziness had him dropping back against the pillows. He groaned and swore softly.

Hopper appeared in the doorway a couple of minutes later, he must have heard Steve's reaction to trying to move. "Hey, kid. How're you feeling now?"

"Dizzy. I can't move." Steve mumbled, wanting to bury his face in a pillow until the room stopped moving.

"Do you need anything?"

"Uh. Water please?"

Hopper nodded, leaving the room for a moment and coming back with a bottle of water. "Is this normal?"

"Happens sometimes. Got worse with the concussion." Steve explained.

"Your parent's know about it?"

"Yeah. 's genetic, Mom gets them too."

"Keep resting up, shout if you need anything." Hopper left the room and Steve shut his eyes again, hoping to sleep off the dizziness the way he had slept off the pain.

-

Steve assumed that getting a migraine at school would be the worst possible time, but once he was working ('a real job, Steven. None of this lifeguarding where you get to laze around a pool all day.'), it was on an entirely different level.

It was so much more migraine-inducing. The constant noise, music from within the store, in the mall, and seeping through from other stores. The horrifyingly repetitive tunes coming out of the kiddie rides dotted around the mall. The screams and squeals and cries and whines coming from the kids that were either overstimulated by the environment or throwing a tantrum when they didn't get their way. The attitude and entitlement from customers young and old over samples or not having enough choice or price or 'just how many calories are in this?'. Then there was the brightness, within Scoops the colors were all so oversaturated, the mall, in general, seemed to have so many lights at full power, showcasing all the options, as well as the neon lights advertising everywhere.

One of the worst things was the smells. So many conflicting smells mixing together with a nauseating result. The overpowering artificial lemon that always hung in the air from the cleaners they had to use. The sickly smell of the ice cream, the hot fudge, the caramel, the fountain drinks, and even the fruit made it worse. And sometimes there was the harsh smell when someone let their kid go too crazy on soda and ice cream and toppings resulting in puke on the floor.

Oh, and there was the snarky coworker he shared most of his shifts with that seemed to have a strong distaste for Steve.

It was over halfway through his shift when the migraine struck. It had been a rough day, a lot of customers coming through, kids constantly running around and screaming, and constant complaints that required the same few explanations. Steve could feel it coming on, but thought it would just be a normal headache, taking painkillers during his break to head it off. But they didn't work. There was only an hour or two left before the guys on the late shift were due to come in and take over when the pain struck. The initial burst of pain was so bad it caused him to double up behind the counter. He tried to breathe shallowly in an attempt to avoid the nausea but it hit hard and had him running for the break room.

"Where are you going, Dingus?" Robin shouted after him, but he couldn't respond.

He got most of the way across the room, but began to doubt whether he would make it to the bathroom. He grabbed one of the buckets from the cleaning supplies, and sunk to his knees as he started heaving into it. He did his best to stay as quiet as possible while he threw up, knowing that sound carried between the front and the breakroom and not wanting to put off other people.

"What the hell, you need to get back-" Robin burst into the break room, but cut off when she saw Steve on the floor throwing up. "Seriously, Dingus? It's barely two in the afternoon and you're already drunk? What were you doing, sneaking vodka in your lunch break?"

"Not drunk." He mumbled.

"Hungover, then?"

"Not hungover. Migr-" He cut himself off to throw up again.

Robin scoffed, but she had to go back out as the bell rang on the counter.

Steve couldn't tell how long. it had been, it could have been an hour, it could have just been five minutes. His vomiting had slowed, but the pain of the migraine persisted. He became aware of Robin speaking to someone, but couldn't quite place the rough voice.

"Harrington around?"

"He's in the breakroom throwing up. And he keeps denying being hungover."

"Mind if I go back there?"

Steve heard Robin agree, before the door swung open and heavy footsteps entered the room. Steve slowly opened his eyes just long enough to see Hopper.

"Shit, kid. What happened?"

"Migraine," Steve whispered, not wanting to make the pain worse.

"You didn't think to tell her that?"

"Couldn't." Steve gestured toward the bucket. "Tried to, but."

"Okay. You're gonna need to go home. D'you want me to drive you, or call your parents?" Hopper offered.

"You. Don't know if Mom's home yet." Steve mumbled.

"Uh-huh. I'll just let her know, then I'll take you home."

Steve let himself lose focus, not really paying attention to his surroundings. Once Hooper came back, he asked to leave using the back exit, not wanting to walk through the busy mall with the chief of police while clutching a bucket in case he threw up again.

Steve didn't really speak during the drive hom, keeping his head back and his eyes closed to try and fight off some of the pain. He opened his eyes as they pulled up outside his house, and noticed his mom's car parked on the drive.

"Why'd you come in?" Steve asked as he moved to get out of the car.

"I was going to ask for a favor for El, but it doesn't matter. It can wait 'til you're better."

"Okay, thanks chief." Steve stumbled up the drive, wincing at the brightness of the sun. He let himself in, knowing he was going to have his mom go overboard on caring for him, like she always did when he had a migraine.

When he returned to work on his next shift, he knew he had to face Robin. His mom dropped him off, as his car was still in the Starcourt parking lot. He beat Robin in, so started working on the opening tasks.

"Hey, Dingus, no hangover today, right?" Robin asked as she walked through to the breakroom to drop off her stuff.

"Wasn't a hangover." Steve protested. "It was a migraine."

"That's those really bad headaches, right?"

"Yeah, I get them sometimes. And if I had the choice, I would prefer a hangover. They hurt less." Steve leaned on the counter, waiting for Robin to double-check the till.

"Is that why you kept running out of class? I swear, if you were a girl everyone would have thought you were pregnant with the amount of times you kept throwing up."

"Getting my face beat in twice in like a year made them worse. I've had them since I was a kid, but after the concussions, it was on a different level. I started getting them at school more, and they always make me sick." Steve explained.

-

The only thought Steve could process before the final punch from the Russians knocked him out was that if he got out of it, this concussion was not going to help his migraines.

At first, he didn't really notice a difference. Between recovering from the concussion, whatever drugs the Russians had injected them with, and the other injuries he received from the beating, alongside the mental strain of everything that had happened, he just didn't have the energy to register any changes. But they did get worse.

They were hitting every week, at least once, sometimes more often. And the thing he found most worrying after he'd noticed it, was them fucking with his vision. Even at the best of times, his vision wasn't as good as it had been before the encounter with the Russians. But with a migraine? It was bad on a whole new level. Sometimes it even got so bad that he would go blind in one eye. Usually only for a few minutes at a time, a half hour at most, but there was that one time that his vision didn't return for the duration of the migraine.

He tried to keep it secret, hide the migraines as much as possible. Robin knew about them, but he didn't want her to know about the severity or the frequency of them. And if he could avoid it, he didn't want the kids to know about them at all. From the amount of times he had to cancel on them, they knew there was something wrong, but he wouldn't give them the details.

Robin picked up on how bad the migraines had gotten when one struck at work, midway through their shared Sunday late shift.

One minute they were laughing and joking together, having playful arguments over what the next movie should be, the next, Steve was hunching in on himself from the sudden onset of pain.

"Steve, are you okay?" Robin asked, worried about his sudden change in demeanour. "Is it a migraine?"

Steve nodded, and swallowed twice, trying to hold back the unavoidable nausea. He bolted out from behind the desk in the direction of the employee bathroom. He made it over the toilet with barely a second to spare before he was throwing up. He was only alone for a minute, then he was aware of Robin behind him, holding back his hair and rubbing his back.

"It's a bad one, huh?" Robin said after Steve had sat back, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Mmm-hmm. They're all bad." Steve replied, a slight slur to his words. He opened his eyes to look at Robin, the bathroom being dimly lit as neither of them had bothered to turn the light on. As he did, he noticed that his vision wasn't normal, he could see out of his right eye, but his left eye not so much.

"Your eyes look weird? Do they normally look weird when you have a migraine? They're kinda glassy and the left one isn't really focusing." Robin started to ramble but tried to hold back, knowing that too much talking made Steve's migraines worse.

"Can't see. Left eye." Steve mumbled, not wanting to have to try to explain.

"What do you mean you can't see? Should I call an ambulance, that's really concerning. What if it's like a brain tumor or something?" Robin started to panic a little, almost spiralling with concern for her best friend.

"Happens sometimes. Migraine thing. Goes away soon." Steve was only speaking in half sentences, not able to form his thoughts properly.

"How can you be so casual about not being able to see? Have you seen a doctor about it? How long has it been happening? Has it always happened with your migraines?" Robin's voice raised a little, causing Steve to wince at her tone.

"Russians fault. Doctor can't do anything." Steve explained. "You're too loud."

"Sorry," Robin whispered. "Are you done?"

"Think so. Help?"

Robin helped Steve up and guided him to the couch in the staff room, pushing his shoulder until he laid down. She left him with a small trash can on the floor near his head in case he threw up again, as well as a bottle of water in reach.

"Is your mom home?" Robin asked before she left the room.

"No."

"I'll call Dad to pick us up. They'll let you crash in the guest room until you feel better." Robin switched the light off as she went back out onto the shop floor.

Steve knew he would have a ton of questions from Robin once his migraine was gone, but for now, all he wanted was to sleep it off.

-

After Vecna, Steve was just grateful that everyone survived. Eddie had minor injuries from the bat bites, which would have been a whole lot worse if Steve hadn't insisted on him zipping his jacket closed, Max had two broken legs, a broken arm, and minor vision issues, but was expected to make a full recovery, just needing glasses in the long term. Steve had his bat bites, the road rash on his back and arms from being dragged along the ground in the Upside Down, infection in both those wounds from running around in a toxic environment without proper wound care, and slight damage to his windpipe from being strangled twice. He counted himself lucky that he hadn't received yet another concussion, no new head trauma meant that at least his migraines weren't getting worse.

But it didn't mean that they had gotten any easier. It was getting harder and harder for him to hide his migraines, or at least the severity of them, from the others, as the group had drawn in closer than ever, spending time together multiple times a week. Eddie figured it out early on, after Steve cancelled on another hangout.

He drove over to Steve's, letting himself in with the spare key when his knocking wasn't answered for nearly ten minutes despite Steve's car being parked in the drive.

"Steve?" He called, hearing a pained whimper from upstairs in response.

Steve didn't want anyone to see him deep in the throes of a migraine, at least not anyone that hadn't already experienced him with a migraine. But he wasn't in a position to turn anyone away, barely able to move, unable to get his mind and voice to cooperate enough to string more than two words together, his vision blurred in both eyes. He didn't even react when Eddie came into his room.

"Oh, Stevie," Eddie whispered.

Eddie easily fell into caring for Steve, cleaning out the bucket by the bed, replacing empty water bottles with fresh ones. Once he'd done the basic chores, he joined Steve on the bed, alternating between rubbing his back and gently tracing his fingers through his hair until Steve fell asleep.

Once Steve woke up, the pain of the migraine had mostly lifted, leaving behind the dizziness. He was coherent enough to be able to hold more of a conversation.

"Eds?" He mumbled, his throat a little dry.

"Hey, Stevie. How're you feeling now?" Eddie asked, keeping his voice quiet.

"Better. Dizzy, though." Steve burrowed into Eddie's side a little.

"Was it a migraine?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"My mom used to get them. I don't think they were as bad as that one looked for you. But I just did what used to help her."

"It felt nice." Steve hummed.

"Good. Do you, like, get them a lot?" Eddie asked hesitantly.

Steve froze for a moment, before dropping into the explanation of them being genetic, and getting worse with each round of concussions. How different people had reacted, how his mother looked after him, often going too far, how Tommy had tried once upon a time, how Nancy never believed him, how Hopper started to help, and Robin coming in and doing her best, alongside her parents when his weren't home.

Eddie vowed that he would be there to support Steve through as many migraines as he could.

-

It wasn't long after Eddie witnessed Steve's migraines for the first time when they got together. There'd been something building between them for some time, but the care Eddie showed during the migraine was the final push for Steve. It had been a sticking point for him in dating for so long, since Nancy, not wanting someone who refused to believe him when he had to cancel due to a migraine.

And it wasn't too long after that when everyone else found out about Steve's migraines. He was due to be hosting a movie night, as he had the biggest house, and his parents were travelling out of Hawkins more than ever, but had to cancel just a few minutes before everyone was going to arrive as a result of a sudden onset of a migraine.

Robin and Eddie had been there early to help him set up, and witnessed the quick onset of it. He didn't make it to any of the downstairs bathrooms, throwing up repeatedly on the floor before he was able to. He shut himself in his mom's room, not wanting to try and get upstairs, leaving Eddie and Robin to deal with everything else. Eddie set to cleaning up the mess on the floor, Robin taking the duty of turning everyone away. She'd tried to call the others as soon as she noticed the migraine hitting Steve, but all of them had already left. She waited by the door, not wanting anyone to barge in and start being loud enough to disturb Steve. She gave the excuse of Steve suddenly getting sick without enough time for them to call, not giving the details as she knew Steve wouldn't want her to. There were a number of complaints, but she was able to get everyone to leave without too much of a fuss.

But he had to explain it at the next gathering. The kids basically confronted him about his constant cancelling, getting backed up by Nancy.

"I'm surprised he hasn't tried blaming a headache. He used to pull that all the time when we were dating." Nancy said.

"Jesus christ, Nancy. How many times did I have to explain it to you that they weren't just headaches? I get migraines." Steve snapped, then suddenly realizing that he'd said it in front of everyone.

"Yeah. That's the same excuse you always used. Cancelling on me because you had a headache, using a fancy word for it doesn't change what they are."

"Migraines are totally different to just a headache. Let me guess, you've never seen him while he was experiencing one?" Eddie asked.

"No, but they can't be that much of a big deal." Nancy scoffed.

"I puke. A lot. And it's the worst pain imaginable. Way more painful than getting chewed on by those demobats. I would take a thousand hangovers over one migraine. I can't eat or drink or take anything for the pain because it just comes back up. Opening my eyes gets nearly impossible if there is any amount of light, and speaking becomes physically painful. I can't do anything when I have one other than try to sleep it off. And once the pain is gone, I get so dizzy I can't move." Steve explained.

"You're over-exaggerating it," Nancy replied, rolling her eyes. "You don't need to be so dramatic."

"He's really not? I've seen a couple and they're bad." Hopper pointed out.

"If anything, he's underselling how bad they get. Just accept that you were wrong, and move on." Robin added, glaring daggers at Nancy.

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Nancy huffed.

"You could have just listened to me. I explained this repeatedly when we were together, and you never believed me. You could have come over after school to see how I was, or even called to check on me. When we were friends, Tommy would drop by if I ever missed school, especially if my parents weren't home, to make sure I was okay or if I needed anything. But all I got from you was you being bitchy and cold to me over it when I next saw you. As if it was my fault."

Nancy didn't respond, instead turning and leaving the room.

"So, these migraines." Dustin was the first to break the silence. "How can we help?"

In this, I believe that Steve's mom isn't great and is kinda distant most of the time, but she almost goes overboard with affection and care when Steve has a migraine because she blames herself for his suffering, as it was passed down through her family. Also, my characterisation of Nancy comes from how dismissive she was of Steve in s2, over his concerns about what could happen if Barb's parents found out the truth, and with the fight in the alley where she wouldn't take responsibility for what she said the night before. Also, the attitude she got over Steve wanting to cancel on dinner with Barb's parents. And her 'my way or the highway' attitude that comes across multiple times in the show. This was supposed to be a quick and easy fic to get out while I worked on my other fics, but I had a migraine flare-up that lasted nearly a week. And now we have hot weather in the UK which seems to be easing the symptoms of my other chronic illnesses, so writing is taking a little bit of a backseat while I take advantage of feeling the best I've felt in like a year and getting all the shit done that I've not had the energy to do for so long.

[js-a-writer]

Gilbert Blythe X fem!reader? Fluff and if its possible maybe you could write the reader more extroverted..?

Thank you so much for my first request. This is going to be a friends to lovers, I hope your okay with that. I still tried to make it where reader was extroverted, if it's not to your liking just message me and I will fix it or remake it for you. 😊🙂

Y/n has had the biggest crush on Gilbert for what feels like FOREVER!! But Gilbert just can't get the hint. She has tried everything from flirting to even hand holding!

Y/n has never been afraid to speak her mind and go for what she wants, she has always been a bit more extroverted but no one ever seemed to mind.

Gilbert had always loved that about Y/n, her never fearing to stick up for herself (and others) . You see Gilbert had had a crush on Y/n for a while to but he never acted on it in fear that it would ruin their friendship, and he couldn't bare to have that happen. So he convinced himself that all of her flirting was just playful banter shared between friends and that her holding his hand was also completely platonic. His friends had noticed that he was crushing hard, and they tried to convince him to simply just ask her out. But his excuse was always the same, having you as a friend was better than not having you in his life at all.

One day Y/n had just gotten sick of his foolishness and decided that she was going to make the first move. Well the first real move.

She walked to school that day with her head held high, ready to tell Gilbert how she felt. As she was waiting at the path they always meet at to walk to school together, she wondered, what if Gilbert didn't like her back, what if this ended horribly and Gilbert never wanted to be her friend again. But she pushed those thoughts deep down and decided that this was better than keeping those feelings to herself, even though she had been hinting for months.

When Gilbert had finally showed up Y/n took a deep breath ready to face this feeling head-on. "Well goodmorning Y/n are you ready to go." Gilbert asked with a sort of pep in his step. She hesitated before responding, "Uh.. Yeah, let's go." Gilbert was shocked, she had never seemed so shy before and certainly never seemed this nervous. But nonetheless he ignored it and they started making their way towards school.

A few minutes go by without a word said from Y/n. She was deep in thought battling her thoughts telling her that she needs to do this, and she has to be confident about it. "Hey, Y/n are you al-" "Gilbert I like you. I really really like you, and I was wondering if you would want to go on a date with me?" She said abruptly stopping Gilbert's sentence. Gilbert stood there shocked, he would have never imagined that Y/n had feelings for him. But he brought himself back to reality just in time for Y/n to start walking away.

"Y/n, wait! I like you too, I think I might even love you." Gilbert said hoping she would turn around. "Then why didn't you tell me?!" She asked curious to find out why Gilbert had been hiding his shared pining for so long. "I was afraid you wouldn't like me back." "Are gou serious?! I've been hinting at you for months, Gilbert months! I was flirting with you and holding your hand. I did everything in the book to try and get you to make the first move, but you never did. How did you not notice?" Gilbert was shocked. So all those compliments and all the teasing, the hand holding, the cheek kisses, they weren't just friendly gestures, they were real. He hesitated for a moment thinking of what to say next until he acted on the first thought that crossed his clouded mind. He stepped forward grabbed her by the waist and kissed her!

He had finally kissed her! Of course she kissed back and she was so happy, Gilbert had liked her back and now he was kissing her! When they had to break the kiss, because unfortunately they need oxygen, Gilbert picked her up from the waist and spun her around, her dress flowing underneath her. When he finally set her down they stared into eachother's eyes for a moment. Pure joy and admiration pooled their pupils and they could both tell. "I love you too." She says breaking the blissful silence. Gilbert was overjoyed with this news. He picks her up again a spins her around shouting "You love me! I love you! We love eachother!" As she giggled at her lover. "Put me down!"

When he finally put her down he looked into her eyes for a moment before asking the inevitable. "Y/n, would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" She looked at him for a moment. "Was that not already established when we kissed, or said 'I love you'... Yes! Gilbert Blythe, I will be your girlfriend." And they sealed the statement with a sweet and loving kiss as they walked hand in hand to school.

I loved writing this imagine. I hope you like it and Gilbert was very oblivious! 😉

[gynandromorph]

so i'm writing a scene where jessie writes the entire story herself (the irony is not lost on me), and, it's supposed to be the most perfect world she can think of. it's impossible NOT to compare her decisions to ones that i've thought about drake making, their solutions to the same problems side-by-side. for example, jessie assumes that she cannot get around death being a necessity with life. obviously, the planet would overpopulate. people would get tired of being alive. she decides instead that death should be more like getting tired and going to sleep forever one day, without the aging or sickness. drake would never settle for allowing death. i've spent a lot of time idly trying to figure out how xe would change... well, with omnipotence, anything, everything, in order to accommodate this demand -- and there are many different ways, which can be flawed when interacting with other problems. but the important part is that drake wouldn't settle for death. drake makes a mandatory end result, takes the current reality, and works until the beginning and end goal meet. jessie doesn't challenge reality's initial stipulations or the basic arguments about the logistics of non-death, even with unlimited power. we know that jessie is more authority-oriented in her basic value system; it's obvious when she's a child, and it's obvious when she's a god. she had good parents and a happy childhood; the authority figures in her life provided what she needed if she listened (and if she didn't). it was in her best interest to develop a worldview where authority was Good; she had no need to question them. reality says there are limited resources, and we will fix it by making people and creatures die and become resources, and jessie said "okay, got it boss." drake didn't have terrible parents, but nonetheless had experiences of authority's failure that were deeply formative for xem. even if xyr parents had been perfect, the body dysphoria would have always meant the reality that was provided was not enough. if xyr body, arguably the most fundamental reality xe will ever know, trapped in it regardless of all other factors, doomed to die when it dies, was something xe had to question to find any happiness, it must be very easy to apply this mentality to other dissatisfactions with reality. drake's rigid and often extreme moral beliefs, while they may seem more like they should produce a ruthless dictator than jessie's emotionally-driven decision-making style, are intrinsically linked to suffering and a desire for relief from it. ironically, both of these characters deal with similar themes -- a desire for impossible realities, and a hatred for the world they live in with all of its imperfections. jessie's impossible desire may simply be the freedom from desire altogether; to finally for once not feel an emptiness radiating Want. drake's impossible desire is more straightforward and less easily described -- paradoxical self-actualization and ego death. their similarities make them fun to compare, because they really could not be more different. any which way, i wanted to write down these thoughts about the characters -- jessie in particular -- before they Disintegrated Into The Ether

[mrsnancywheeler]

OKAY SO-

You said onetime that Finnick and sweet girl have major hadestown vibes and that’s so real!!! (That literature paper I wrote that was around 4,000 was actually about hadestown! I was writing about the contemporary political themes and love)

The sudden way Finnick went to talk to her for the first time reminds me so much of “come home with me” and overall their love story reminds me of “all I’ve ever known” because of just how much they’re like “the world is shit but when I’m with you everything is okay” yk? And Finnick is so Orpheus, willing to risk everything for Eurydice.

ALSO!!! Sweet girl reminds me of “flowers” specifically after the capitol took her after the quarter quell. I mean the whole song takes place when Eurydice can’t remember Orpheus but all she can’t remember is the feeling of safety, the feeling of belonging,

I could talk about hadestown all day (my original draft was 5,000 words) , and I could talk about the lakes all day

-🌾anon

YES YES YES I've be wanting to fully explore this so buckle up guys this is a long ride, ily so much pookie bc I've missed your thoughts while I've been sick 😭

(also that as an essay topic is so real and I bet it was absolutely amazing)

starting off with all I've ever known because it is so absolutely them in every sense of the song

"this is how it's always been, all I've ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you too." finnick only has people he perceives as fair weather friends or those who use him, but then there's her and suddenly he doesn't have to worry about that. and she's so used to masking, protecting herself but then there's him, all she longs for.

we know sweet girl is always cold and finnick is the warmth to contrast that, her sun to keep her from freezing "you take me in your arms, suddenly there's sunlight all around me, everything bright and warm and shining like it never did before and for a moment I forget just how dark and cold it gets."

"now I wanna hold you, hold you close, I don't wanna ever have to let you go. now I wanna hold you, hold you tight, I don't wanna go back to the lonely life." both of them longing for each other's touch, presence, the release found in being with one another

readers anxiety about not being worthy and deserving suffering is so, "I don't know how or why. who am I, that I should get to hold you?"

and finnick knowing she's the one before they've even really spoken, he just knows it's right is so, "it's like I'd known you all along, I knew you before we met and I don't even know you yet. all I know's you're someone I have always known."

and him and his sweet girl as the back in forth at the end, chef's kiss perfect

"say that you'll hold me forever. say that the wind won't change on us. say that we'll stay with each other and it will always be like this." with her never ending anxieties

"I'm gonna hold you forever, the wind will never change on us. long as we stay with each other, then it will always be like this." as finnick trying to reassure his sweet girl.

side bar to a line in hey, little songbird that always makes me think of her when she's trying to differentiate reality from lies in the Capitol

"suddenly nothing is as it was. where are you now, orpheus? wasn't it gonna be the two of us, weren't we birds of a feather?"

moving onto flowers which is so her

"dreams are sweet until they're not. men are kind, until they aren't. flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart." the dream of being with finnick getting her through the games versus the reality of winning and what that took. the trafficking faced in the capitol AND when conway turned on her, playing into the romantic facade in the end. her when she was young, become a husk of that.

and then the feeling when she's in the Capitol and can't verbalize how she's feeling, she just needs people to know because it's all too much. she doesn't want to be unreadable, she longs to be herself again but isn't quite there yet.

"is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out. nothing. nothing gonna wake me now."

then out of all the negative, twisted memories, the positive anecdotes she does have. and the way she's so scared but still longs for finnick regardless.

"flowers, I remember fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels. walking in the sun, I remember someone, someone by my side turned his face to mine."

"you, the one I left behind. if you ever walk this way, come and find me lying in the bed I made."

AND FINNICK IS JUST SO WAIT FOR ME CODED

"wait for me, I'm coming. wait, I'm coming with you. wait for me, I'm coming too." like he so desperately wanted to instantly go back to the capitol and save her or just be with her that he was stuck in a constant state of sedation when they refused to let him.

"that town'll try to suck you dry. they'll suck your brain, they'll suck your breath, they'll pluck your heart right out of your chest." the lengths he's willing to go, the trials he'll endure for her

a small time to flash back to wedding song because on a fluffier note it's so a back and forth between them

sweet girl is so "lover, tell me if you can, who's gonna buy the wedding bands? times being what they are, hard and getting harder all the time."

and the ever reassuring finnick "lover, when I sing my song, all the rivers will sing along. and they're gonna break their banks for us and with their gold be generous. all a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand, the rivers gonna give us the wedding bands."

okay and the way reader views herself and what Snow manipulation to hijack her, and how they always mention fate is tearing them apart is very akin to when the chips are down.

"help yourself, to hell with the rest, even the one who loves you best."

"what you gonna do when the chips are down? now that the chips are down. " " oh, my aching heart."

"ain't nobody but yourself to trust"

"aim for the heart, shoot to kill. if you don't do it then the other one will."

"cast your eyes to heaven, you get a knife in the back. nobody's righteous, nobody's proud, nobody's innocent, now that the chips are down"

AND PROMISES like finnick trying to work them back though what the Capitol did to her and she's so desperate to be herself again even if she's struggling. and he's trying but he uncertain on how to do it especially since this isn't the future he necessarily envisioned for them.

(in a sweet girl then finnick line set up)

"let's go, let's go right now"

"okay, let's go. how?"

"we'll walk, you know the way. we'll just come back the way you came."

"it's a long road, it's a long walk. back into the cold and dark. are you sure you wanna go?"

"take me home."

"I have no ring for your finger, I have no banquet table to lay, I have no bed of feathers, whatever promises I made. I can't promise you fair sky above, I can't promise you kind road below, but I'll walk beside you love. anyway the wind blows."

"I don't need gold or silver. just bread when I'm hungry, fire when I'm cold. don't need a ring for my finger, just a steady hand to hold...just walk beside me love, anyway the wind blows"

and both of them "do you let me walk with you? I do. I do. and keep on walking come what will? I will. I will. we will."

this is all for now because it's so long but they're literally them and I'm convinced this is just one of the lessons they've learned in a past life when he turned around. so now he's learning to trust in this life.

and as evident so can I lmao 😭 I'm glad we're on the same page though. love you 💋

[requincouche]

I had my 'memento mori' this week, I'm afraid.

I've been feeling quite sick lately, but like a different sick from usual. No runny nose, no typical tummy ache, no nausea or bottom issues... Just a pain in my lower tummy that I've never felt before. After a week of doing nothing with it, I visited my GP to ask about it. Of course he suspected appendicitis but ruled it out cus the symptoms didn't fit. After some tests he concluded that I probably have an inguinal hernia... It's really kinda sad, for me. I'm trying to see it in a positive light, but I'll need to get a surgery to repair it, cus it won't go away on its own and it's hurting me all day long. I haven't planned anything yet, cus I'll need to make arrangements for my own care afterwards, as I live on my own, and I have no means of transportation.

The only other time in my life that I had gotten a surgery was to straighten my eyes when I was much younger. Back then, my dad took care of my, afterwards, which I'm really grateful for. But now, my parents are much older and more frail, so I feel like I can no longer ask them. I'm convinced that I'll be fine and it'll just be a few weeks of discomfort, but I am so busy all the time that my activities will need to stop for 1-2 weeks just for me to recover. I think that I will call the hospital department tomorrow to make an appointment. Probably, I'd be able to get my surgery in January. I'm not stressed about such a procedure itself; I'm just a bit anxious about how disruptive it is to my life and my activities. Like, I'll need to assume the worst that there'll be 3 weeks where I can't do anything, otherwise I might disappoint people. And if in reality I'm fully recovered after just a few days, that'd be fine, but that's impossible to predict, right now.

If you dunno what 'memento mori' means, at least what I am alluding to here... See it as follows. When we're young, we live as if we will be around forever. We do crazy things, take risks, and treat ourselves really badly from time to time. When we're young, this is mostly fine. We'll get injured, but our body heals quickly and we even grow a second pair of teeth for in case we've ruined the first pair. But then the healing goes slower and slower, and we don't recover as quickly any more after a crazy night out. Then, maybe if we get older, we realise that we won't live forever, that life is filled with 'firsts' but some of those 'firsts' include disappointments. I'm not calling myself old, by any means, and I don't need your sympathy, but I am realising that I am not young any more. It's ironic to type this out for a littlespace blog. However, this is my blog, and even though I am anonymous, I share a lot of myself here that no one except my close friends know about ^^.

Sorry for this wall of text. Please don't sympathise with me, that's not why I am typing this. I hope that you'll have a lovely day ❤️

[crownedinmarigolds]

14 and 43 for Khloe for the vtm ask game ^.^

AHH another for my baby girl! Thank you!! (art by @maria-ruta!) 14. How did they initially feel after being embraced? Did they like being reborn into something knew or did it take them a while to cope with their new reality? Khloe initially believed she had survived a near-death experience, even though the Thinbloods who found her were very direct about her being Embraced. She experienced a pretty severe existential panic, realizing how fast she would've been gone and how she hadn't done anything worth while or had anything to show for her life. It would've been the end forever in that unlit backroad, how long would it have taken to be found, for her parents to be told? She knew looking at her body in the mirror that she had to make a change, so she started to try and live in the moment and chase after things she really wanted to do. Not STUPID stupid impulsive, but following her initial first instinct. When she couldn't eat and felt weird and strange, sleeping completely through the day like it was nothing, that's when she called up the number given by one of the guys from the "ambulance," thinking they may've given her drugs that made her sick and she needed to go to the hospital. Instead they met up somewhere public - where she finally understood when she got stabbed by her own fangs over the scent of blood that she was a vampire. Khloe so far has taken vampirism in stride, but I don't really think it's 100% even set in completely for her yet. Being a super life-like Thinblood with a lot of qualities that take away some of the ultra vampirism, she still feels practically alive. She takes a relatively normal (for a human) amount of time to heal, her heart beats, she can taste food, she feels (lmao pretty extreme) sexual urges, etc. If not for the need for blood, the superpower of her Alchemy, it wouldn't even feel real at all. I feel like it's going to smack-smack her in the face one night and make her really worry about her future as a immortal being. :3c 43. What are their best attributes? I tried to build Khloe like how I imagine myself so she is stacked in social! She has high Charisma and Manipulation out the wazoo. Funny enough, my most "good person" character is my best and most actively using this skill liar. :3 (I've convinced a hunter I'm completely human it was so dope it was seven successes on the die) THANK YOU THIS WAS FUN!!

[n7punk]

I accidentally drafted this instead of scheduling it for the start of October BUT I wanna talk about the scrapbusting aspect of Sapphic September for me now it's done because it was really successful for me.

Oh to start, let me actually explain scrapbusting: it's going through your scraps/fabric pile and finally sewing the pieces you've stocked up there. Usually it's more of a quilters thing since they can much more easily use small scraps, but the term has spread through the entire sewing community now and I've also seen it used for finally completing projects you may have cut out but never sewn and such.

So a lot of my SS ideas came out of nowhere (what is Ritual. Like actually) but this event was also so good for convincing myself to finally do things I'd been holding on to forever and I wanna go over those! I'm also gonna include a little of AU-ctober/Sheratober in here at the end

highlights / fault lines (OotW) [teeth]: i have had the highlights document sitting in my WIPs folder for 2 years (Oct 2022), starting with the first paragraph in the second scene for the final fic, and then just a little blurb of what the fic would be about (adora struggling to adjust/with her depression after joining the rebellion to explore how unhealthy she managed to be in secret). when I started writing the teeth prompt, i wrote that first scene and went, wait, this could actually tie into that old idea, so i pasted it into that old doc and just went from there. I'm so glad to have finally gotten that idea out there and it was basically accidental lol.

Sickfic (the Greys) [UFO]: another file I've had sitting around for two years (Nov 2022), I wrote the first paragraph and then immediately switched over to what the first chapter of Recycled Stardust ended up being, the museum gallery opening. I was writing it for a friend who was sick, so "sickfic" made sense, but then I had the other idea and asked them which idea they'd prefer, and they chose the art gallery, so that other idea just sat there in my WIPs folder titled simply "sickfic.docx" for two years. When I saw UFO on the list I IMMEDIATELY went oh my god I'm going to finally finish this thing.

the bones of what you believe (OotW) [bones]: This is a partial hit. I came up with the idea for the broken bones thing just for this prompt, but as I started writing it, it naturally morphed into a reality break, and I had the following stub in my OotW ideas folder (titled 'delirium'): "Cognitive dissonance, catra adjusting to bright moon but its so pastel, and soft, and breezy, and smells like open air and flowers, it feels like a halucination, it’s difficult to tell what’s real". I ended up incorporating those aspects into this reality break, which I think works better than trying to turn that into its own fic separately, so another idea down!

Backseat Beast (Trade Today for Tomorrow) [moonlight]: I've had the catcrumbs drawing that inspired this sitting in my drafts, with those tags attached (minus Sapphic September lol), since the 4th of July... 2023. Yeah. I told you this was scrapbusting lol. I knew I wanted to do something with Catra, being far too aware for a kid her age, using it to listen in and be a bit of a little shit, but I never came up with more for it and had the idea it had to be multiple vignettes to make a new installment but like... it doesn't. It can just be one, lol, so as soon as I saw 'moonlight' I thought of TTfT since it's tied into immortality in that verse and I ended up using this idea even though there isn't actually any moonlight directly tied into this idea. I was going to try to write another scene that actually had the moonlight glow, but what I learned this month was that I need to give myself permission to write smaller things more.

mirrorworld (a left turn somewhere around etheria) (OotW) [surreal]: okay obviously I made that original tumblr post four years ago, but I had no intention of actually writing it. I happened to rediscover it two years later though (not really sure when) and decided I should actually write it. Well I wrote one paragraph and then never picked it back up. When I saw both the surreal and mirror prompts I knew I had to actually do this fucking idea now or just delete the damn file lmao.

Starlight (somewhere between the sand & stardust) [the divine/awakening]: This was intended to be my next project after Slipstream before Sapphic September grasped my attention with that fucking ghost prompt. Anyway just a glance at the prompt list told me I could fit in the Lightbeam sequel with these themes somewhere so hey, problem solved! I was a little burnt out on kidfic right after Slipsteam so the break to write all the stupid stuff gave me the room I needed to actually write Starlight.

A Prophecy from an Angry God [prophecy]: Oh boy this one. I don't normally like crossover fic because most of the time the themes of the two things just don't mesh, nevermind the plot, but I do sometimes like AUs just using another universe's rules (thus letting you make your own themes & plot) so that's what I wanted to do with this. The avatar fic came to me as a fever dream in the later house or early morning, I don't remember which, and I made the file in my Scrivener ideas folder on March 24th in 2023, but I wasn't sure I was actually ever going to write it. I remembered it when thinking about prophecy/fate in regards to the Avatar's role, though, and I was like. I'm not deleting this file ever, so I either need to write it now or look at it forever. So I finally wrote it LOL.

In AU-ctober, I've been seeing on the idea for Somewhere Beautiful, We Can Finally Meet for 7 months. I started working on it here and there, but AU-ctober planning started back in early September and I thought this would be a good way to close it out, even if it ended up being much longer than the five days that made up that week.

Rain or Shine I've been sitting on for AGES and the Sheratober prompts helped push me on ideas to finally get it out.

The Green Line idea is only a month old, but it was just "subway AU" and the Sleep prompt came along as a great way to spur interaction by falling asleep on public transit.