#like you know that nauseous feeling where you think you’re about to get sick but your also hot/cold and dizzy at the same time…. yea

[blackenedsnow]

howdy!! like many others I am down for the bug man and love the way you write him,, I've been battling a little cold for the past few days and I think it would fix me (or at least bring me joy) if you could write something with beej and a sick reader? either toon or movie juice would work :)

death becomes you (not really)

WARNING: Sickness

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Sick!Reader

NOTE: Hii! You're probably feeling better by now, if not, I hope you get well soon! I went with Toonjuice because I haven’t written as much for him, but I’m dying to do more! Hope you enjoy this!

SUMMARY: You're down with a cold, and Beetlejuice is, well… trying to help. Whether his attempts are more cure or curse, only time will tell.

You felt like death.

Not the cool kind of death with the ominous fog and cool, haunted moors—the kind you’d expect Beetlejuice to show up with. No, this was the miserable, sickly, mucus-ridden kind of death, where all you wanted was a cozy blanket, a good potion of cold meds, and about three weeks of uninterrupted sleep.

The door creaked open, and the unmistakable smell of something both vaguely expired and weirdly… minty? filled the air. You cracked open an eye and found yourself face-to-face with Beetlejuice, grinning as he hovered over you with something resembling concern. Or mischief. It was hard to tell with him.

“Oh, what’s this?” He crouched down, head tilted, putting his chin in his hands. “Somebody didn’t tell me they were planning to kick the bucket today. I coulda thrown a party!”

You gave a weak smile, too tired to argue. “I’m not dying, Beej… just a cold.”

He made a face, like the very idea was beneath him. “Cold? You mean you’re alive and still managing to look this awful?” He winked, but his voice softened a little. “Poor sucker… Well, lucky for you, you know the Ghost with the Most!”

“Oh no…” you muttered, already dreading what he might have in mind.

Beetlejuice wasn’t known for conventional cures, but before you could even attempt to protest, he snapped his fingers, and the room darkened for a split second before flickering back. When you opened your eyes, you saw he’d arranged a variety of bizarre items on your bedside table.

“Ta-da!” he sang, flourishing his hands. “The Beetlejuice Cure-All! Patent pending, results totally not guaranteed.”

You squinted at the collection. There was a bottle of something swampy green that sloshed a little too thickly, a small stack of something that looked like the world’s weirdest energy bars, and a bag of what you hoped were just dried herbs but had a suspicious, crunchy quality.

He held up the green bottle. “First things first: Beetlejuice’s Cough-Be-Gone Concoction! One sip of this, and bam! Sickness, begone!”

“Beej…” you eyed the liquid. “What’s in that?”

“Oh, you know... I dunno, let’s say ‘mystery slime’ from the Neitherworld.” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Trust me, it’s a secret recipe.”

You narrowed your eyes. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed up, and even the faintest whiff of “mystery slime” was enough to make your stomach turn. “I am not doing this today,” you muttered, sinking deeper into your blankets.

Beetlejuice’s grin faltered just a bit, but he quickly bounced back, waving his hands theatrically. “Aw, c’mon, babe! Think of it as, I dunno, holistic medicine! Just one gulp of this beauty-"

You glared at him. “I’m already feeling nauseous. That thing is only gonna make it worse.”

He pouted, clutching the bubbling concoction like it was some treasured elixir. “Sheesh, tough crowd. Well, I got other ways to cheer ya up.” He snapped his fingers, and with a flash of green light, a parade of tiny skeletons appeared, each wearing a tiny top hat and doing an eerie little dance on the edge of your bed.

But you just groaned, pulling the blanket over your face. “Beetlejuice, I don’t have the energy for your... whatever this is.”

His shoulders slumped as the skeletons disappeared with a small poof. “Man, really tough audience tonight.” He hesitated, scratching his head as he glanced at you huddled up in your blanket, looking smaller and way more miserable than he was used to seeing. He leaned down to your level, his usual smirk fading as he tilted his head to study you.

“Hey,” he said softly, a note of actual worry slipping into his voice. “You really feeling that bad?”

Your eyes flicked to him, too tired to be annoyed anymore. “Yeah,” you muttered.

For a moment, Beetlejuice just stared, almost uncertain of what to do. Then he carefully set down his bubbling “potion,” took a deep breath, and plopped down next to you, close enough to feel his chilly presence.

“Well… alright then,” he said with a small shrug, as though convincing himself. “I can dial it down a bit. You, uh, need anything? More blankets? I got a stash of ‘em from the Neitherworld. They’re kinda… dusty. But hey, adds to the charm, right?”

You managed a small smile despite yourself. “I think I’m good on dust, thanks.”

He laughed softly, reaching over to pat your shoulder in a surprisingly gentle way. “Alright, alright. I’m here, y’know? Just… rest. I can keep the skeletons quiet for once.”

It was a rare side of him, seeing him actually worried—and for once, it felt like you might just let him take care of you.

[wandaslittlebird]

Pendulum

Wanda x Reader, WandaNat x Reader

After a session with Wanda the prior evening, you wake up alone in your bed and find you’re a bit more reliant on her than you’d like to be.

CW: Sub drop, (kinda) panic attack, mood swings, guilt, Mommy Kink, mentions of spanking, established WandaNat (no cheating), pills (Tylenol and Xanax), Wanda generally being a protective and worried mama

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I may know hardly anything about dom drop, but I’m ✨well versed✨ in sub drop. I honestly think this one is adorable and I hope you all enjoy.

A/N: I wasn’t doing this consciously, but reading this back I realize I kinda did a reverse YAIL, so, if you haven’t already, go check out that series by @wandasaura

Fic based on this request

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air before your head even left the pillow. It was hard to find anything to ground you in your dark bedroom, but with the help of your stuffed bear, Francis, and some breathing exercises you’d been working on in therapy, you were able to calm down at least enough to breathe. Still, you found yourself dizzy, nauseous, in pain, and, perhaps most excruciatingly, alone.

Wanda. Where was Wanda? Where was your mommy? You needed mommy.

“Mommy?” You cried quietly into the empty room. But she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t there. She was at home, tucked peacefully into bed with Natasha, her wife. And you were here, in your cold, empty apartment, all alone.

You turned to look at the clock on your bedside table. 1:30 am. It was far too late to call her. She had to get up for work in a couple hours. You had to get up for class in a couple hours.

But god, you needed her. You needed just to hear her voice. Everything felt so empty without her here. Your brain felt like it was underwater. You couldn’t think. It felt like your mind was strapped to a pendulum, swinging back and forth between extremes. It’s like half of your mind was begging for Wanda while the other half scolded you for your over-reliance. You wanted her, but you didn’t want to want her. It was hyper-dependence clashing with hyper-independence in an internal battle that left you dazed and confused.

Just call her, you thought. She told you to call her if this ever happened.

You’d been her submissive for months, and, though you’d never actually experienced sub drop with her, the two of you had discussed it extensively. “You can call me at any time,” she’d said. “Even if it's been days. I’m here for you in any way you need me.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, pulling up her contact and hovering over the call button. But before you could press it, the pendulum swung back. You hurled the phone into your beanbag on the other side of the room.

What are you thinking? You can’t call her. She’s not your fucking girlfriend. You’re so reliant on her and she doesn’t even care about you. Leave her alone. This is your mess. Handle it.

You sighed, dragging your aching body off of your mattress. Everything hurt. The wounds she’d so loving inflicted the night before ached even more than they had when they were fresh. You wanted, needed, to feel her soft hands massaging soothing balm into your skin like they had only hours prior. But no.

Wanda. Wasn’t. Here.

It was just you and you alone. You needed to take care of this. You needed to pull yourself together and handle this on your own. You felt like you might be sick. The swinging of this pendulum was nauseating. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, pulling two Tylenol and a Xanax from the medicine cabinet. You sat on the toilet, tucking your head between your knees.

You didn’t understand what was happening. Or rather, you didn’t understand why it was happening. Wanda had done everything perfectly, just like she always did. She’d insisted you stay with her until you were out of subspace and your mind was clear again. She’d given you all the cuddles and love and reassurance you could possibly want. She’d even rubbed that soothing lotion on your sore ass despite the fit you’d pitched about it. This shouldn’t be happening. She’d done everything she was supposed to do. You were the problem.

You moved from the bathroom to your living room, pacing anxious circles until you worried the neighbors would complain. Then you decided on a walk.

A little walk to clear your head. That should help. No need to bother Wanda. You could take care of this by yourself.

—————

A little over two blocks proved you could not, in fact, take care of this by yourself. You found yourself collapsed on a bench outside your favorite coffee shop, her contact pulled up on your phone, sobbing as your thumb hovered over the call button.

You clicked it, anxiously awaiting an answer through the dial tone. Every second without an answer was a battle not to hit the red button, and smash your phone on the ground so you wouldn’t be tempted to try this again.

“Hello?” You heard, not Wanda, but Natasha’s sleep addled voice.

You silently cursed, debating hanging up the phone and forgetting the whole endeavor. You had very limited experience in dealing with Natasha. Where Wanda was warm and inviting, Natasha was cold and intimidating. Wanda had told you once that Natasha had a soft spot for you, but you remained unconvinced any of Natasha’s spots were “soft”.

Wanda had explained to you that Natasha’s had submissives of her own, but she tended to prefer brats, submissives who needed a harsher hand. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Wanda had explained, “she’s just not used to sweet little girls like you.”

Still, the woman terrified you. And she definitely was NOT the one you wanted to be speaking to right now. But you took a deep breath, and answered her. “H-hello, Miss Natasha. C-can I speak to Wanda?” You stammered. You couldn’t keep the tears and desperation out of your voice when you added a “…please.”

“Y-yeah, sure honey. Just a second let me get her up,” she responded tiredly.

Your heart shattered at the thought of Natasha rousing a peaceful Wanda from her sleep just because you couldn’t get yourself together. But all such thoughts faded when you heard her voice through the phone. “Angel? Is that you? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“Mommy…” you said tearfully. “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay, I just… I don’t know what’s happening. I mean I’m dropping, I know, but… I don’t know. I just needed so badly to hear you and talk to you. I’m sorry for waking you up. I’m so sorry. I know you said….” You were rambling breathlessly, but Wanda soon cut you off.

“Breathe for me, little love,” she instructed softly. “Three deep breaths. In and out. Can you do that for me, angel?”

You nodded despite knowing she couldn’t see you over the phone. You took three audible breaths, calming yourself down.

“Good girl,” she praised. “Now, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“I… I… Sub drop, I think,” you explained. “But like, really bad.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry, my little love. Can you explain to me what you're feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need company?”

“I just… I don’t know why this is happening to me,” you cried. “Everything hurts so bad. My head feels like it’s spinning. And… And my body is so sore. It’s never happened like this with you before. You did everything so perfectly. I just don’t understand why I’m being like this.”

“Sub drop can happen no matter what, honey. And I’m so sorry it’s happening to you, sweetheart. Do you need to come back over?” She asked.

You pondered her question, the pendulum inside of you swinging violently. You felt like you were being torn in half between admitting you needed her help, and feeling defeated and weak that you couldn’t handle it on your own. But eventually you remembered it didn’t really matter. You made your choice when you took the Xanax. You weren’t going anywhere now. “I-I took some medicine. I can’t drive. I’m sorry,” you admitted.

“What medicine?” She asked, panicked. “Did you take too much? Are you okay?”

“It was just a Xanax. Just one. Just like I take for school sometimes,” you reassured.

You heard her breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry I panicked. You know I just worry sometimes. I tell you what, Nat and I are going to get you an Uber, and then you can spend the rest of the night here, okay?”

“Wanda, you don’t have to-“ You didn’t use her real name very often given the exclusively sexual nature of your relationship, but you needed her to know she wasn’t responsible for being your dominant right now. She was Wanda, and you were you: two grown adults. She didn’t have any obligation to take care of you right now, in the middle of the night on a Wednesday.

“But I want to, darling,” she interrupted. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah, but I’m not at the house right now.”

You heard her breath catch. “Where are you, honey? You promise me you’re safe?”

“I-I’m just at the coffee shop,” you explained. “I wanted to take a walk, b-but I didn’t make it very far.”

Wanda sighed. She’d have to have a little talk with you about walking all by yourself in the middle of the night. But not right now. Right now she just needed you in her arms as quickly as she could have you. “Alright, love. You’ve got a car on its way. Just stay on the phone with me until it gets there, okay?”

“O-okay.”

—————

The car was there within five minutes of Wanda’s order. Most of that time was just filled with tears and mumbled apologies on your end, and reassurance and encouragement on hers.

She waited anxiously by the front door for you to arrive, peeking out of the blinds with every set of headlights that passed by. She clutched her robe tight against her chest. If you were there, you would’ve teased her about her anxious habit. You always said she was “practically clutching her pearls.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, she was standing in the front door frame before you could even get out of the car.

“Mommy!” You ran up to her, nearly tripping on the front porch steps on your way in. You were even more hysterical now that you were seeing her in person. Something about the sight of her made you fall apart. You felt safe now. You were going to fall, and she was going to catch you, and everything was going to be okay.

“Careful, love,” she chided, taking you into her arms. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It sounded more like she was reassuring herself than anything, but her words still washed over you like a wave of relief. “I missed you, mommy.”

“I know you did, angel,” she said, kissing you on the temple. “Mommy missed you, too.”

She wrapped her arms just under your ass, still sore and super sensitive from your activities earlier that night. She picked you up, wrapping your legs around your waist. You squeaked in a mixture of surprise and pain.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re sore. I’ll be gentle,” she cooed. “Let’s get you to bed. Tasha will be waiting for us.”

You just cried, burying your face into Wanda’s neck as she carried you up the stairs. You couldn’t talk anymore. You were so completely exhausted, mentally and physically. But it was okay. You had your mommy and everything was going to be okay. The bedroom door was already open, and, as Wanda had expected, Natasha was sat up against the headboard.

“Is that a little angel I see there?” You heard Natasha ask. Wanda sat you on her lap at the end of the bed, bending down to take off your shoes.

You peaked your eyes out from Wanda’s neck before perching your chin on her shoulder. “Hi Miss Natasha,” you sniffled. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“That’s alright, little angel,” she assured, sliding closer to you and Wanda on the bed. She looked so much kinder than usual, soft sleepy eyes smiling at you through your tears. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, still teary eyed and snotty on Wanda’s lap while she unlaced your shoes.

Natasha cupped your cheek, wiping away stray tears. “It must’ve been so scary to start dropping without your mommy there, huh?” Her touch was unexpectedly gentle, as were her words. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe she really did have a soft spot for you.

You nodded, trying to speak but only managing to whimper a “mhm.” You blushed a little with embarrassment. Wanda must’ve told her all about your situation. You wondered momentarily if she thought your behavior was overblown or ridiculous, but if she did, her gentle face showed no indication.

“But now you’ve got your mommy and everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

You nodded again. “I-I hope you don’t mind if I steal your wife for a little bit for-for some extra snuggles.”

“Not at all little angel.” Natasha smiled softly. She could see your anxious embarrassment, and decided, despite her inexperience with soft subs, she’d make an attempt to soothe you. She knew she wasn't expected to, but she found herself desperate to make you feel better, even if it was only a little bit. “Your mommy could hardly stop bragging about you tonight, you know?”

“Re-really?” You asked. Natasha could see the tiniest little twinkle in your teary eyes.

“Really,” she confirmed. “She told me she was so proud of her sweet girl for calling her, because that must’ve been so scary for her, to call in the middle of the night. She knows you don’t like to wake people up, and asking for help when you need it is so so hard. And I said ‘wow, it sounds like you have the bravest little angel in the whole world. I think she deserves some extra special snuggles from mommy tonight, for being so brave.’”

“Y-you really think so?” you asked bashfully, hiding back in Wanda’s neck.

“I really do,” she confirmed. “And you know your mommy keeps her phone on silent in the nighttime. But she cares about you so much she has a special setting so it rings just for you.”

You smiled. Your heart fluttered, not only at the idea Wanda had her phone on for you, but also at the thought that Natasha must’ve known it was you before she answered. “I-I thought you might be mad at me,” you confessed. “Cause you and-and mommy were probably all snuggled up in bed and I came in and messed it all up!”

Natasha stroked your cheek as she shook her head. “No angel. Never. You could never mess up one of our snuggles by asking to be a part of it. We’re both so proud of you, for calling and getting help.”

“P-promise?” You asked.

Natasha held out her pinky, which you wrapped with your own. “Promise.” She confirmed.

Wanda finally got your shoes off and placed them on the floor next to the bed. “Okay little love,” she announced, easing your pajama pants down around your knees. “I’m gonna get some of the nice lotion again, okay?” She’d already put a little on earlier, but she figured it would probably do quite a bit to soothe your current pains, both physically and emotionally.

You wrapped yourself around her, refusing to let her move. You didn’t need silly lotion, you needed her. You whined at the prospect of having to let go.

Natasha giggled and sat down next to Wanda. “Do you want me to do your lotion while you hang onto mommy?”

You nodded, sending her into the next room. Wanda kissed your temple. “I told you she likes you.”

“I’m so spoiled,” you mumbled blissfully into her neck.

“You deserve it, angel,” she said.

Natasha returned to the room with the bottle of lotion. She approached you and rubbed your back gently. “Alright little angel, is it okay if I touch your bottom, or do you want mommy to do that part?”

You pondered for a moment. On one hand, having Wanda do it would mean getting to lay over her lap again. But, you found yourself inexplicably excited by the thought of Natasha putting your lotion on. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could have the best of both worlds.

“You can do it, Miss Natasha,” you said while flipping yourself over to lay over Wanda’s lap.

“Oh,” Wanda squeaked in pleasant surprise. From this position she could’ve just as easily applied the lotion. She was pleased to know that you wanted Natasha to do it, though. She pulled up your shirt and rubbed your back.

“Okay, it’s gonna be a little cold,” Natasha advised, giggling a little bit when you jumped at the cool liquid anyway. Her hands were so gentle as she soothed your raw skin. You wondered if she was this gentle with her subs as well. “All done. Do you want a kiss?”

You nodded, feeling so completely at ease with the two women taking care of you. Natasha placed a gentle kiss to each of your red ass cheeks.

“Does Tasha’s kisses make it feel all better?” Wanda asked.

You nodded into Wanda’s thigh.

“I’m glad I could help,” Natasha giggled, placing the lotion on Wanda’s nightstand so it’d be ready for you again in the morning. She crawled back into bed, making herself comfortable on her side.

Wanda placed you face down on her own side of the bed, trying not to disturb you too much as she slid her legs out from under your body. She crawled over you, placing herself in the middle between you and Natasha, pulling you tight into her side.

You laid your head on her chest, catching a glimpse of Natasha’s pretty smile in the low lighting. She really didn’t look like she minded you being here at all. In fact, she looked happy.

In your fuzzy haze, you waved at her from across the bed.

Wanda and Natasha both giggled, hearts swelling at the innocence of the gesture. You just wanted Natasha to feel included, and what better way to acknowledge her presence than with a kind wave hello.

Natasha waved back. “Hi, little angel,” she said, reaching over Wanda to pinch your cheek.

You looked up at Wanda, your big eyes gently pleading. “Mommy, do you think I could sleep on your other side so I can be closer to Miss Natasha?”

Wanda smiled giddily. She never expected such a request from you, but she was more than happy to oblige. She was overjoyed to see your relationship with Natasha growing. “Of course, sweet girl,” she said, effortlessly flipping you over to her other side.

“You know, you don’t have to call her Miss Natasha,” Wanda said. You’d always called her that since you’d first met her without any prompting to do so. She certainly didn’t mind, but Wanda had always secretly hoped you’d get past the formality. There was nothing she wanted more than for her two favorite people to love each other as much as she loved them. “I bet she’d like it if you called her daddy. Only if you wanted to.”

You faced Natasha, who looked surprised at the proposal, but nodded.

“I thought only your subs were allowed to call you that?” You said, equally shocked by Wanda’s words.

“Hmm…” she pretended to ponder the question. “For my little angel I think I can make an exception.”

You smiled. “In that case,” you pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight daddy.” You turned back to Wanda, placing a kiss on her jaw as you snuggled back into her chest. “Goodnight mommy. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little angel,” Natasha said, wrapping herself up behind you.

“Get some rest, little love,” Wanda said, kissing your head.

And finally, the pendulum stopped swinging.

Taglist (ha I remembered this time): @boredandneedsfanfic @marvelwomenarehot0

[luveline]

hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday

im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping

could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.

i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶

thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k

Can I come over? Are you home 

You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text. 

Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me? 

Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner? 

What kind of dinner my love  

Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken 

Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you 

You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?

You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable 

What’s wrong??? 

Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there 

You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You don’t have to rush over.” 

“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.” 

Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?” 

“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.” 

“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”

“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?” 

“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?” 

“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.” 

“You’re always good company, you loon.” 

“You what?” 

“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.” 

“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.” 

“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?” 

“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”

“I know what you want.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Spencer!” you laugh. 

“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?” 

“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.” 

“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.” 

Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear. 

You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway. 

He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.” 

You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.” 

“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?” 

“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?” 

“It’s in my back.” 

Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.” 

“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.” 

“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?” 

“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise. 

“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?” 

You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.” 

“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”

Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.” 

“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.” 

“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly. 

You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”

He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised. 

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius has the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

[inkdrinkerworld]

Reader takes bc and experiences nausea and loss in appetite because of it

“Spencer I’m not taking it and you can’t force me.” It’s Sunday, a day that used to be your favourite but once a month when you get your period Sunday becomes the day you take your first birth control for the month and you’re plagued with almost immediate nausea.

“Angel,” he coos softly, stroking your hand as you lay pitifully in bed. Spencer knows it can’t feel good, he’s been nauseous before and it isn’t fun. It’s even less fun seeing you so pale and bleak and a little down as you try to get a handle on yourself again.

“No,” you shake your head, turning away from where he’s got the box and a bottle water extended to you. “Can’t I just skip this month?”

Spencer knows it’s bad, it’s terrible on the best of days. But he also knows how bad it is when you don’t take the pills.

He doesn’t know how to make it better, he isn’t a medical doctor but he’s spoken to your OBGYN and she’d said to stick it out till your next appointment.

Except, sticking it out gives you intense sickness, a loss in appetite most days and a craving for refreshing fruits- like watermelon and cucumbers- when you finally do want to eat, which isn’t substantial enough to take any of your medicine.

“You know you can’t, angel.” He sets the things down near your legs. Spencer’s hand coasts your forehead and cheek. “Remember this is a new brand, the nausea is normal. I know it doesn’t feel good, but it’ll help in the long run.”

You know he’s trying to help but right now you don’t give a damn about the long run.

“C’mon, beautiful.” He’s pulling out the big guns now. Stroking your chin and calling you beautiful like that; all head in the clouds, full of love with his big brown eyes. “There’s soda crackers too, and when you feel up to it we can go get whatever you’d like for breakfast, yeah?”

“Spence,” but he only stays silent, looking at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky individually. “Can we get bagels? I want egg, ham and cheese in mine.”

Spencer rewards you with a dazzling smile and drops a kiss to your forehead. “We can get that and fresh ones for the week, angel.” He sets the tablet in your hand and opens the water, rubbing your hair out of your face as you swallow.

“What happened to beautiful?” Spencer laughs, reaching for the green tin of crackers.

“Here you go beautiful,” you preen, taking three crackers and nibbling slowly. “Proud of you, know it’s annoying to deal with.”

You nod, laying back down on your pillow when you finish the crackers.

“Think they’ll ever stop giving me nausea?” You ask Spencer, suddenly shifting positions so you can lay your head in his lap.

“They say it’s only supposed to last for the first three months, all statistics point to that being true. But bodies are all different, it’s not a one size fits all, maybe it won’t happen this month, maybe it’ll persist. Medicine is tricky when you add hormones into the mix.”

It isn’t as reassuring as you’d wanted to hear, but you know Spencer will help you through all the nausea and mood swings as long as he’s home.

[bettysupremacy]

hi love ! could you write a fluff!rafe where the reader is a workaholic and ends up getting a cold and rafe takes care of her? 💌🍄

my boyfriend!!!!!!!

“I need to go in today.”

You gaze at Rafe, who returns your stare. It feels futile, yet you persist. You try to sit up, pulling the covers off your legs, but retreat under them when the overhead fan reaches. A dull ache permeates your body. The cold seeps into you, but the blanket is suffocating. Your body feels warm, but the air is biting.

You concede. “Nevermind.”

“Yeah.” Rafe moves to help you gently, he’s fixing the blanket.

“It’s fine.”

“Seriously,” Rafe warns suddenly. “I’m gonna make you cut your shifts down.”

“But-“

“No, this is a ‘I want to pass the time’ job, and you’re treating it like you’re employee of the month.” He’s annoyed, with you surely. “Shit, are you employee of the month?”

You frown, ignoring his question. He’s right. Though, he usually is. He already provides for you through the big money of the company his father passed down, you just don’t wanna be bored. You don’t want to contribute nothing, and you’re treating it like there’s rent to pay and mouths to feed. Well, there is, but not in the demand you

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he huffs. “I just can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“I know.”

He helps you sit, moving the pillows behind you. Your chest feels fuzzy and so do your eyes. Dully, your nausea makes you cough.

“I’m nauseous.” You tell him.

“Jeez.” He murmurs, his eyes round and concerned. “You want zofran?”

“Yes.” You whisper.

Tears pool in your eyes as he sits up, collecting at your eyelashes as you try to blink them away. You bring your hand to swipe at them, sniffling. Rafe’s brain lags.

“What?” He asks, kneeling down again, hands in desperate search of your face. “Baby, what?”

“I’m embarrassed.” You cry.

“Why?” His rough hands swipe at your tears gently. “Everyone gets sick.”

You turn away from him,

“If this is about me being upset earlier, I swear it wasn’t at you.” He stresses. “I-I had a bad day, and seeing you’ve succumbed to illness makes me sad.”

You giggle wetly. “Succumbed to illness.”

He beams proudly. “I knew that would get a laugh.”

You smile up at him, fever working through your veins slowly. You shake again miserably, working yourself up into a fit of fat tears. They roll down the hills of your cheek heavily, pooling under your chin. You blink out three at once and Rafe nearly has a conniption. Why are you crying?

“It’s not.”

He works his hand over your hair, gently, but not cautiously. “Then what?” He pleads. “Help me understand.”

“I just love you.”

“You’re crying because you love me?”

“I don’t feel good.” You correct.

“You don’t feel good?”

“And I love you,” You admit. “but you’re here,” You moan. “seeing me like this, and you’re so pretty.”

He laughs, quickly recovering to a sympathetic face when you frown at him.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He soothes, lips near your ear. “Sometimes I look at you and I want to cry.”

“But you never do.” You wallow.

“Have you ever seen me cry?”

“Once.”

“Forget that.” He grimaces. “The point is, you’re stressed and sick.”

“I don’t see the point.” You murmur.

“You’re vulnerable right now, to your.. feelings. If I were sick, and stressed, and I saw you, I think I might cry too.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Did the people cry when the angels came down in the Bible?”

“Did the angels.. come down?” You ask. “I’ve never read it.”

“I’m not sure.”

You laugh. “Maybe we should ask Scar.”

“Scar?”

“She’s smart.”

“I think she’s Jewish.”

“So?”

“Different book, my love.”

“Duh, I’m not that sick.” You laugh. It drips with sticky sticky cough syrup. “But still, she’s smart, maybe she’ll know.”

Rafe sighs lovingly. “Maybe. We got off track.”

“We always do.”

Rafe snorts. “You’re feeling better.”

“Get on track.”

“I don’t remember the point I was making with angels.”

You laugh, tilting your head up to look at him. “You’re useless.”

“Abominable girl.” He chastises, sitting up anyways.

“Go get me medicine.” You’re smiling. “Useless, useless doctor.”

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 29 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing. i hope you all enjoy chan's POV!

[ read chapter 28 here ]

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Of Storms

Everything has become convoluted.

These last couple weeks I’ve had this recurring dream where I’m trying to swim my way out of a whirlpool, and no matter how hard I fight against the opposing currents, I keep getting dragged back in. I often wonder if the dream will stop if I just give up and succumb to the deep, dark abyss at the whirlpool’s center.

It’s funny how the psyche works. In my fucked-up way of thinking, I convinced myself that every cruel thing I say to you will help me get over you. That if I push you away enough, you will stop consuming my thoughts every waking moment.

But it’s not working. Nothing is helping.

Our tumultuous situation is running rampant through my head, even when I’m sleeping. I can’t escape you.

I crave you, y/n.

Every part of you: mind, body and soul.

And yet, I can’t act on it. So, I resort to old tactics. I don’t know how you’re putting up with me. I don’t deserve your patience, and apparently, you’ve come to that conclusion as well.

It takes some time for Lee Know to break and reveal what the two of you were talking about in the backyard, but he finally does. What he says makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Life isn’t a game…I know that. But I can’t help feeling like I’ve lost.

I am fuming. I am livid.

Not with you. With myself.

“When?” I ask him, jaw clenched as I try to maintain my composure.

“On the 17th…this coming Sunday.”

My chest tightens, hearing that—not even the full two-week notice. Are you that anxious to get out of here? To get away from me?

I can’t blame you.

I leave Lee Know behind without saying a word. I have no plan in mind as I grab the key fob and hop in the car. I don’t know what I’ll say, I don’t know what I’ll do. All I know is I have to find you. I have to talk to you.

As I drive to campus, every single moment that I’ve been an asshole to you plays out in my mind. I pushed you to the limit with my behavior.

I know I fucked up. I knew I was fucking up, while I was fucking up. And I felt helpless to stop it, selfishly unable to see any alternatives.

I silently curse my ego and hubris as I drive—they’ve both been shot to hell with this revelation.

I’ve been fighting so hard to escape this metaphorical whirlpool of emotions, that I never paused to consider what lies on the outside of it, and what’s at the center. Thinking about it now, perhaps I assumed I could fight my way back to my old self if I resisted. But then that means I’m running away from you. If I just let myself relax and let the emotions take their course…then maybe I could find you once it swallows me whole.

But how do I give in? How do I let go?

I park the car outside of the building where your class is and stand in front of it, waiting for you to exit. I still have no clue what to say or do.

When you finally emerge, the nauseous feeling returns. You falter, when you spot me…are you going to leave me right this instant?

Please don’t.

I don’t know if you can read my fucking mind, but you continue towards me.

“Chan, I was gonna tell—” you start to say.

“Get in the car,” I cut you off.

Even now, with all this shit transpiring right in front of me, I don’t know how to act. I don’t know how to treat you.

If you’re not everything to me—what are you?

“Put your seatbelt on,” I all but bark at you as I back out of the parking space.

I may not know what you are to me, but your safety is and always will be paramount.

The silence in the car is almost deafening. How does one start what could be the most important conversation of their life?

I drive aimlessly for a little while before taking us to Rosewood Park. We exit the car, still in silence. You follow behind me, dutifully, and you have no idea how much I want to just turn around, fall to my knees and hug you to me.

I can’t bring myself to do it, though. You must hate me. How could you not?

We finally make it to my quiet place and sit on the bench. Do you remember when I first brought you here? You were a different person then…but I was not. Clearly.

“I will have this talk with you, Chan…but only if you are going to be fair to me. You’re not the only one that’s hurt—you’re not the only one that’s scared shitless right now.”

Fuck.

As much as I love when you’re submissive, I’ve discovered that I love when you hold me accountable for my behavior even more.

You remind me what’s at stake if I can’t pull myself together.

“Why wouldn’t you come talk to me first?” I ask.

“Because we’ve done so well with talking recently?”

Another well deserved jab, but I take it in stride this time, willing myself to hear you out instead of being on the defensive as we continue talking.

“I know. I fucked this all up,” I rub at my face as if it’ll wake me from this nightmare. “I don’t know how to be. After saying all that shit to you, I’m just supposed to act like I’m happy that you don’t want me as more than the guy you’re contracted to?”

You shake your head softly in disagreement.

“It’s not that I don’t want you. I swear I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. It’s just the truth of this unfortunate situation we’re in—I can’t have you. You can’t keep me.”

As happy as it makes me to hear that, it also feels unbearably painful.

“I know how much you love your family,” you continue, “especially your sister and brother. I’d be selfishly taking you away from them if I let you choose me.”

Admittedly, I’ve been so wrapped up in the thought of losing you that I didn’t truly consider how all of this would play out in the long run. Hannah. Lucas. My family.

You’re not the type of partner my parents would have chosen for me and we’d be breaking all kinds of rules by being together, but I feel delusional enough about you to believe that we’d get through it. Isn’t that supposed to be enough?

“And your future. Everything you’ve worked so hard for would be thrown out the window.”

I sit up straight at that and turn to face you, preparing to give you the truth that I’ve been struggling against for months. 

“That’s the thing, y/n. I haven’t pictured a future that doesn’t have you in it, since the moment you stepped foot in our house.”

That sets me off on a tangent. I stand up, pacing and blabbering in front of you. Pleading with you to see this from my point of view—to see that this could work.

You don’t agree though. You see a different future for myself than I do. Married? With little ones running around? I can’t imagine it. Not with anyone but you.

I keep my eyes trained on the grass, digging my shoe into the dirt—anything to keep from having to look at you.

I’ve never experienced pain like this.

You take my hand and pull me towards you. I crumble at your touch, feeling my eyes begin to water as I fall to my knees, practically bowing in front of you, silently asking your forgiveness. But I know I don’t deserve it.

“Look at me,” you plead one final time.

“For what?” I ask, dejected. “To feel my heart shatter even more?”

I’m fucking crying, y/n.

I feel shy. I feel embarrassed. I feel weak.

All the emotions I’ve been trying to swim away from are taking their toll and I can’t keep my head above water anymore.  

“Chan, I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m doing this because I love—”

“Don’t,” I cut you off again. “Don’t fucking say it. Please.”

I can’t hear you say those words.

And then, your hands are on my neck, bringing my face to yours and our lips collide. I feel everything you have been trying to convey to me as we kiss, and I hope my message is coming across too.

I need you.

I want you.

I’m sorry.

I’ll miss you.

On the ride home, I keep the music off the entire way again. The only sound filling the car is that of raindrops and the windshield wipers occasionally doing their job. Our conversation went about as good as it could have, I guess. There was no convincing you to change your mind, there was no taking any of my unjust actions back. The only thing I could do was set aside my detrimental ego and level with you.

I should have done that all along.

When we make it back to the house, I park in the driveway and turn off the engine. Neither of us make a move to exit. You absentmindedly play with a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweatshirt, and I have the urge to reach over and take your hand in mine. But, I don’t know how you’ll react. Am I allowed to touch you? Was that kiss our last?

“How do we get through this week?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” I shake my head before part of my fears come spilling out, “every part of me wants to pull you onto my lap and fuck you right here. If you’re leaving and I’m never gonna get to see you again, I feel the urge to be gluttonous. To claim you every hour of every day before you leave.”

You turn to look at me, eyes wide.

“But,” I continue, “that behavior is what led to this. I will respect your decision, and I’ll give you your space. I have to learn to live without you anyway, right?”

I attempt a small chuckle and smile at the last part, but there is no amusement in my eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” I answer quickly. “I’m upset and disappointed with myself more than anything.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“I know it wasn’t,” I agree. “I just wish I could go back and change things, that’s all. I don’t know what I expected to happen after treating you that way again. I was trying to protect my own feelings and, in the process, only wound up hurting yours worse than ever. I pushed you to the edge. I took you for granted. I caused this.”

You sigh, close your eyes and lean back into the seat.

If only I’d had this mental clarity two weeks ago, maybe this could have been avoided, right? I’m thinking the same thing. Technically, though, it would have only been delayed. You would still have to leave me at some point. But, perhaps, it could have gone a little smoother.

“We should head inside before it starts pouring,” I eventually say.

“Okay,” you respond quietly.

I don’t want to leave this car. After our talk, walking back into the house means the end is really coming.

You text me when dinner is ready. I’m not hungry, though. I choose, instead, to sit at my desk, unable to stop staring at your name in my phone. Knowing I’ll have to delete it soon is killing me.

I shower, then lay in bed, wondering how to make the most of the few days we have left. The thought of you spending your last nights with Hyunjin makes me feel unnecessarily sad. You’ll miss him, too, I know that. But I want you here with me.

It’s still raining, now accompanied by soft rolls of thunder and brief flashes of lightning when the door to my room suddenly opens and I watch as you walk in. You’ve already showered. In the girl’s bathroom. Another painful reminder of how much I destroyed our routine. I would have liked to see you shower in here.

Not just for the simple fact of seeing you naked, however I can’t deny that would have been an added bonus. I wanna watch you wash yourself up and be there to help reach the spot in the middle of your back you always struggle to get. I wanna see you wash your hair one last time…watch the way you squeeze your eyes shut as soon as you start applying shampoo and refuse to open them until you rinse it out for fear of anything slipping inside.

You shuffle across the floor quietly and quickly get under the blankets of your own bed.

Was I naïve to think you’d come lay with me after our talk?

I said I’d give you your space though…but do you really want it? Can I truly accept that?

I lay there, wide awake, thinking of all the things I still want to say to you.

It takes a while for me to work up the courage to get out of my bed. As soon as my feet hit the floor, there’s no turning back. Once again, I will risk being rejected by you.

I walk to your bed—you’re facing the wall, but I can tell you’re not sleeping.

“I know you’re awake,” I say.

You turn around to face me. I reach one hand forward to move your blanket aside and you let me. The sound of my erratically thumping pulse fills my ears.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” I ask.

“Yes,” you reply immediately.

If it weren’t for my rib cage to protect it, I think my heart could burst out of my chest.

I bend down and scoop you up into my arms. You wrap your hands around my neck, hugging yourself to my bare chest. I carry you with trained ease and lay you down on my bed. You slide over, giving me room to get in, too, then cover us with the blanket.

We both lay on our backs, looking up at the ceiling. I can feel how tense you are next to me.

You don’t know what to expect. Are you afraid? It pains me to know I’ve caused this reaction. And yet, you’re still here…for now.

“Relax,” I say gently.

And you do.

I turn onto my side, then slip one hand beneath your neck and the other around your waist to pull you to me. You nestle your face in the crook of my neck and everything instantly quiets.

This is right.

You and me.

I know it.

I feel it.

But I’ve done so much to ruin it.

“I’m so fucking sorry, y/n,” I say softly against the top of your head.

“Me too,” you reply.

I squeeze you tighter—what could you possibly be sorry for?

I say nothing in response. I just hold you against me until you fall asleep in my arms. For the first time in weeks, I don’t dream of whirlpools.  

A loud, rumbling beat of thunder sounds off sometime during the night and I feel you jolt awake. I startle, too, and peek an eye open.

“You’re okay,” I soothe you as the rumbling dies down.

I change positions, laying on my back, and bring you with me. You cuddle up to my side and hook a leg across my body. I rest a hand on your thigh, and I can’t help it, but my hips instinctively push up towards it. I keep still after that, though. I just want you here next to me. Nothing else.

We both lay still for a while, but I can tell you’re not sleeping.

You readjust your leg, hiking your knee up higher and causing the side of your calf to graze across my cock. It twitches in response, and I grip your thigh to keep you still, letting out a sleepy grunt.

You move your leg again—with intent, it seems—and my cock begins to stir.

Damn him.

I am now the one left feeling stiff and immobile as you move down on the bed, lowering your head towards my abdomen. You pull at the waistband of my boxers, and I grab your hand to stop you.

“What are you doing?” I mumble.

“Shhh,” you reply. “Lift your hips.”

My girl. You must want to have me committed to a psychiatric institution.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” I prop myself up on my elbows.

This was not my intention. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.

“I want you,” you say, tugging at my boxers again.

When I don’t budge, you place your hand on top of my hardening clock, stroking me along the outside of the fabric.

“I want to suck your cock, Chan. And then I want you to fuck me.”

“Shit, y/n,” I exhale.

My body reacts of its own accord, cock stretching to its full potential.

Do you see what you do to me?

“Up,” you demand.

I raise my hips and you push my boxers the rest of the way down. You waste no time before greedily taking my cock into your mouth, coating it with your saliva. I groan as you slide your tongue back and forth along my length, your hand squeezing firmly at the base. I place a hand in your hair, gripping it as I guide your mouth up and down on my cock.

“Ohhh fuuuck,” I exhale.

Is it possible that I’m dreaming?

I must be, because I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.

My hand leaves the back of your head to push the blankets away, freeing both of us. You move your body until you’re settled between my legs, not taking my cock out of your mouth in the process. You continue stroking me as your mouth focuses on sucking, licking, and teasing the tip.

I fucking love you, y/n.

I can’t say it out loud, but I do.

“Come here,” I say as I grab your arms, trying to pull you up towards me. “Let me fuck you now.”

You suck hard on the tip as you withdraw your mouth from my cock, causing a loud popping sound that drives me insane.

Every little thing you do to me, makes sex feel like nothing I’ve experienced before. Every single time. It never gets old. Because it’s you.

“No,” you reply, “not yet.”

You pucker your lips and lightly smack my cock against it, eliciting a moan from me. You spit on my cock, like the good girl I’ve taught you to be, and use it to help guide your hand up and down as you lower your mouth to my balls. You take one in your mouth, sucking it in softly, swirling your tongue around it.

“Oh my fucking god.”

You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?

As far as revenge goes…there are worse things one could do.

And as far as death goes…there are far worse ways to go out.

You chuckle in response as you take the other into your mouth, still stroking my cock with your hand.

“I need to fuck you,” I plead, my legs on either side of you moving involuntarily as I cannot seem to control myself. “Can I fuck you?”

I don’t think I’ve ever asked that before.

You free your mouth and sit up, still stroking my cock.

“I don’t know…” you tease. “Can you?”

I laugh at that.

A call back to my stint as Professor Bang. How could either of us forget it? There are so many things we’ve done to and with each other, and I’m sure I could have come up with more if given the time.

You place your hand on my chest to keep me in place while you straddle my waist, resting on your knees. Still gripping my cock, you position yourself above it and rub it against your slit.

Lightning flashes, soon followed by another roll of thunder. I hardly pay attention to it. I can’t think of anything besides the fact that you’re teasing yourself with my cock, spreading your slick around. It feels amazing. I could come right now.

You finally lower yourself onto my cock, fully taking me inside and we both let out a sigh.

I was genuinely worried we might not experience this again. There are other pressing matters at hand, of course, but our physical connection feels like it trumps all else sometimes.

You take a moment as your body accommodates me being inside of you, then you start to rock your hips back and forth against me.

“On your feet,” I say, placing my hands on your hips to hold you steady.

You readjust yourself, plant your feet firmly on the mattress and then remove your shirt.

A sight I’ll never tire of seeing.

I start to lift you up and down on my cock as you toss your head back, reveling in the feeling and sound of our bodies coming together.

“You fuck me so good, y/n,” I praise you.

I haven’t done that enough.

You squeeze your breasts in each hand, tugging at your nipples as you start to bounce up and down. Never one to just sit back, though, I thrust my hips upwards to meet yours, hands still gripping your hips tightly.

“Hold on to me,” I say suddenly.

You place your hands on my chest, then slide them up to my shoulders and intertwine them behind my neck. I flip you over in one swift motion, keeping my cock buried inside of you. Your legs are clasped behind my back as I continue thrusting into you without missing a beat.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

It’s not a request.

I oblige, willingly. I lower my head to yours and find your mouth in the darkness. You part your lips and slide your tongue against mine as I keep fucking you. I can taste myself, in every part of your mouth. I could lose it right now, just thinking about that.

“How am I supposed to live without this?” I break the kiss to ask, slowing down the pace of my thrusts and gripping your breast with one hand. “Huh?”

You bring my mouth back to yours to kiss me again. I allow it for a moment before pulling away once more.

“You’re incredible,” I continue. “I want this. I want you.”

“I know,” you moan, “me too, Chan.”

You stroke the side of my face and I turn my head towards your hand, rubbing my cheek against it before kissing your palm.

My head drops to your shoulder as I grunt, picking up the pace of my thrusts. I attempt to move my hand between your legs, seeking out your clit, but you stop me.

“Just you,” you say breathlessly. “I want you to come inside me.”

How could I not have fallen in love with you?

You’re everything I’ve ever desired, and then some.

“Is that what you really want?” I ask.

“Yes. Always.” you declare.

Always?

I moan at that, wishing it could be true. I straighten my back and grip your thighs as I pummel my hips into you, grunting and groaning until I come.

You pull me down on top of you and I roll us over so we’re both laying on our side. Back into the same position we started in earlier tonight.

“There’s so much I wanted to do with you—to do to you, still,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

“We have a little time,” you try to sound reassuring.

Days. We have literal days.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” I sigh, gripping your hip to bring you closer to me.

“It’s for the best.”

I may be mistaken, but it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of it, too.

“I don’t see how,” I reply.

“We have to accept it. That’s the only way we’ll get through this and move on.”

“I don’t want to,” I mumble, nestling my face in the crook of your neck this time, inhaling your scent.

You rub the back of my head, but don’t respond.

There’s nothing else that can be said on that topic. We do have to accept. Well, I have to accept it.

I’m just not sure that I can. If there’s a way around all of this, I’m going to find it.

Whirlpool be damned. I will surrender to the current. I will surrender to you.

[ read chapter 30 here ]

a/n: our little wounded wolf 🥹 three more chapters left!

[bookyeom]

such a headache - bsk

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 1.9k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, seungkwan being unfairly cute summary: You have really bad migraines, and a great boyfriend.

A/N: This one's for us, @wheeboo.

You haven’t been dating Seungkwan for very long when the first migraine hits. 

It’s not your first migraine. It is the first migraine you’ve had since you started going out with Seungkwan, though, and you don’t know how he’s going to handle it. You should have known that telling him you have to cancel on a date because you’re sick wasn’t going to help, though. 

You hear the doorbell to your apartment ring. Once, twice, and then your phone is ringing, and you’re suddenly afraid that the noise might make you throw up. Your doorbell rings again, and you groan, forcing yourself up and to the door. You're not sure how you make it, but you do. 

“Hi,” your boyfriend says breathlessly when you open the door, and you wince at the brightness of the shitty apartment hallway lights. You do manage to vaguely register how cute he looks, though.

“Hey.” Your hand lifts to your forehead and you push in on it, an attempt to stave off the pain that’s beginning to increase, your eyes squeezing shut. 

“Are you okay?”

You forgot where you were for a second, your eyes peeking open to look at him again. He’s got a couple of grocery store bags in hand, and you wince. 

“Honestly, I feel awful right now.”

Seungkwan steps forward and you let him in, closing the door behind you. He sets his bags down and then he’s pulling you in for a hug. You rest your forehead against his chest, reveling in the warmth of it against the place where your impending migraine looms. You almost whine when he pulls away, hands on your biceps as he assesses you. 

“What’s wrong? Is it your stomach? Do you have a cold? I brought stuff for everything, just in case.”

“Headache.”

Seungkwan looks surprised, a hand lifting to press against your forehead. “Do you have a fever? Chills? Runny nose?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, leaning into the warmth of his palm. “Migraine, Seungkwan. I get really bad migraines.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Did you just apologize?” You shrug, and Seungkwan tsks. “Do you need Advil or Tylenol? I have both.” 

“Advil would be great.”

Seungkwan instructs you back into the darkness of your room. You have no idea what he’s going to do, but you willingly oblige, another apology on the tip of your tongue before you see the look on his face and decide against it. 

By the time your door cracks open, the pain has begun its increase. Seungkwan enters and you swallow the Advil he offers with a glass of water. He sits on the edge of your bed as you do, watching you, and you wince when your phone dings. He reaches for it immediately, switching it to silent.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I can’t really see straight right now.”

“What?”

You open one eye as you lean back against your headboard, finding him among the zig zags and blurry lines. “Everything’s a bit blurry at the moment.”

“Should I be concerned?”

You can’t help but smile at that, despite the fact that you feel so nauseous you could cry. “No,” you assure him. “I just need to wait it out. Fucking sucks.”

Seungkwan is quiet for a minute, and you let your eyes fall shut. You know he’s processing, and you wonder if he thinks you’re exaggerating like most people do. Then his hand finds your leg and he squeezes, and you think that maybe he’s not like most people. 

“Can I do anything else? Lights off, no noise, right?”

You nod, then realize he probably can’t see you very well in the dark. “Yeah.” You pause. “Could you…”

You hate asking for help. Seungkwan knows, and he squeezes your knee again. “I don’t mind,” he assures you.

“I need to eat something small. Maybe crackers? I don’t know if I have any, though.”

“I bought some.” 

He’s out the door and back in a flash. You thank him, forcing a couple of crackers down before you lie back down on the bed. You can’t think about much as the pain hits its peak. You want to cry, but you know that only makes it worse; you feel like you need to throw up, but you know you don’t actually have to. You just have to wait for the meds to kick in, and there’s nothing else to do about it. 

You’re about to apologize to Seungkwan again because you’re embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this, but he speaks before you can. 

“Do you want me to go? I want to stay,” he adds quickly, “but if I’m making it worse…”

All you can feel, above the pain and the nausea, is an overwhelming sense of affection. 

You are down so bad.

“Please stay.”

You wake up maybe an hour later and the pain is gone. You still feel weak, but better. The best part about waking up, though, is that your boyfriend is still there when you do. 

“Seungkwan?”

He looks away from his phone and over at you in surprise. “Hi! I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Mhm.”

“Feeling better?”

You nod. “A million times better.”

You register his arm under your head, his side pressed to yours, and you can’t help but snuggle in closer. You surge forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and he lets out a sigh. 

“You just recovered and you want to jump me already?” He shakes his head. “Insatiable.” 

It’s him that kisses you full on the mouth right after, though. 

“Okay,” Seungkwan says suddenly, attempting to remove his arm from around you, but you whine in protest and cling to him even tighter. You absolutely refuse to move from his side. He snorts, offering an affectionate hair ruffle before his hands leave you completely. You pout but don’t complain as he sits up a bit, because his hands have now begun furiously typing on his screen, which can mean only one thing: your boyfriend means business. About what, you have no clue.

You wait, head resting against his chest. Your eyes are beginning to shut again now that your body is done fighting itself. You always have the best sleep after a migraine. 

“Do you get…” Seungkwan pauses, and you drowsily look up to find him squinting at his screen. “Auras? Do you get auras?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Do you get auras before a migraine?” 

You’d laugh at how serious he looks right now, but you think that would get you in trouble, so you stick to simply answering his question. “Sometimes, yeah. Depends on how bad it’s gonna be.”

“So an aura can kind of tell you how much pain you’ll be in later?”

You think about it. “Kind of? I couldn’t measure how much pain I’ll be in when it hits, but when I start to get blurry vision I know it’ll be a bad one.” 

Seungkwan simply nods, and begins to type something out again. You’re confused but amused nonetheless. You have no idea what he’s doing, but he’s got his thinking face on — and he looks hot as hell. You’re blatantly ogling him when he asks the next question.

“You said you get blurry vision sometimes. That happened today, right? Earlier?” You nod. “What about like, numbness anywhere?” He looks a bit concerned as he says the last bit, and you squeeze his side. 

“Only sometimes. That one is pretty rare for me. Usually, I’ll be in pain by then, so the numbness doesn’t freak me out because I know why it’s happening.”

He nods, much like a scientist when recording lab results, and you attempt to peer at his phone. He pulls it away easily and you pout, but he ignores you. 

“Do you get any warning signs before a migraine?”

You shake your head. “That part really sucks — I get the blurry vision before the pain comes, but I don’t notice anything before my vision starts to zigzag.”

Seungkwan hums. You’re incredibly endeared. “It says here that some people prefer ibuprofen, some prefer acetaminophen, and that some people need prescription painkillers. What about you? I remember that Advil is the only thing that works for your cramps, right? Is it the same for your migraines?”

You suddenly realize exactly what he’s doing. 

You can’t do anything but stare up at him as he finishes his sentence, suddenly feeling so overwhelmed with fondness for the man beside you that you think you might be sick. He glances down at you when you don’t respond, concern etched across his face.

“Are you Googling how migraines work right now?”

You watch as Seungkwan flushes pink, stammering a bit before he answers. “Maybe,” he mumbles, looking away from you, and you’re positive that you’ve never been more into anyone, ever. 

“Are you writing down what I tell you so you know how to help me when I have one?”

It’s quiet for a split second, and then Seungkwan is brushing you off of him, rolling onto his side and away from you. “Nope,” comes his muffled reply, and you feel so downright giddy that it makes your head spin. 

“Seungkwan,” you try, and you hold back a giggle when he simply huffs in response. You reach for him, hand sliding over his waist as you tuck yourself into his back. “Baby.”

You both seem to realize what you’ve just said at the same time. The pet name is new, but you can’t help that it slipped out when he’s being so cute. You worry that he hates it for a second when he tenses up, but then his body softens again and he rolls back to face you.

“I’m only looking at you because you just called me ‘baby’, and that’s almost as embarrassing as me making a note about your migraine symptoms and treatments.”

You want to make a comment about how you calling him ‘baby’ didn’t feel embarrassing at all — in fact it felt quite right — but you’ll address that later. “Thank you so much for your sacrifice,” you say sarcastically.

Seungkwan pouts at your teasing, but his tough exterior doesn’t last long. It never does with you. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you in, both of his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. 

“Thanks, Kwanie.” Your words are a whisper against his neck, and he pulls back to look at you in surprise. 

“Thanks for what?”

Your finger traces the collar of his t-shirt, avoiding his eyes. “Wanting to look after me like that. It means a lot.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before your boyfriend is suddenly  on top of you, legs tangling with yours. You adapt quickly, a hand lifting to run your fingers through his hair, and you can feel it when he sighs against you. Then he nuzzles his face into your neck as he murmurs, “Having a migraine sounds so scary, babe. I’m sorry.”

Babe. 

You barely even flinch when he says it, trying it out for himself. You like the way it sounds coming from him. You like it a lot. 

“It is scary,” you admit. “But it helps when someone tries to understand.” 

Seungkwan nods, his head lifting from your neck to rest his chin on your chest. “I’ll continue to do my best, then.”

He looks at you, soft smile on his lips, and all you can do is smile back. When you mouth another “thank you”, he doesn’t say anything. The kiss you receive in return is his answer. 

Tags: @waldau @wqnwoos @eoieopda @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies

Send me a message if you want to be added to the permanent taglist!

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[salfishersface]

Hey! I saw your fics and I really liked them 😊💖

I was wondering if maybe you could make a part three to baby fever where reader finds out they actually are pregnant?? I think it'd be really fun to see, only if you want to of course!

Have a good day/noon/nights 💗

Baby Fever Part Three || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - You and Sal find out you're finally pregnant.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - All characters are aged 18+!

Word Count - 1.9k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Part One || Part Two

Waking up nauseous wasn’t unusual for you, especially when you hadn’t eaten since the early evening before. You thought nothing of it, just ate some food and went about your day ignoring the sickness. Even after a few days of feeling nauseous, you put it down to a virus or some bad take-out food. Then other symptoms started: tender breasts, cramping and obscure food cravings. But yet again, you didn’t think anything of it. You just put it down to your period, after all these symptoms weren’t uncommon for your cycle. It wasn’t until you were adding some appointments down on the calendar did you notice that your period was actually three weeks late. Your cycle was usually like clockwork. It started on the same date every month, so for it to be late was out of the ordinary. You and Sal had been trying for a baby for months now, making love whenever you could, sometimes even multiple times a day to increase your chances of getting pregnant but to no avail. You tried your hardest not to get excited when you saw the calendar, not wanting to get your hopes up and mourn a baby that never even existed when your period inevitably came but you couldn’t help it. You ripped the calendar off the apartment wall and rushed into yours and Sal’s shared room, not caring whether you woke Henry and Lisa up. 

“Sal! Sal! Wake up!” You shouted, shaking him. Sal groaned, turning over to you as his eyes fluttered open. Even in the mornings when he had ‘morning breath’ and bedhead, he was still the most handsomest man in the world to you. He lifted a hand up to cup your cheek and smiled softly at you. 

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. 

“Sal! This is important,” you whined. 

“What is it?” Sal asked, finally sitting up in bed. You thrusted the calendar in his face and pointed at the date, but he didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him. “What is it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“My period is three weeks late!” You exclaimed, a huge smile on your face. 

It took Sal a few moments to comprehend what you were trying to say, but when he did he immediately jumped out of bed. “You’re pregnant?” He asked, voice filled with excitement. 

“I don’t know for sure,” you said, voice turning solemn before you perked up again. “But there’s a good chance!” 

“Well, have you done a test?” 

You shook your head. “No. I wanted to do one with you, but I couldn’t wait until your alarm once I realised.” 

Sal nodded and smiled, grabbing his boxers and pyjama pants off the floor and slipping them on. “Well, let's go!” You nodded and grabbed Sal’s hand, practically dragging him to the bathroom. Once you were in, you closed the door behind the two of you as Sal opened the cabinet on the wall that contained all sorts of toiletries: including pregnancy tests. Shakily, he handed one to you. You took the test and watched as Sal took out the box to look for the instructions. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“Looking at the instructions,” he said, eyes scanning the words written on the back of the test box. 

“We don’t need instructions Sal,” you said, a slight chuckle in your voice. “They’re pretty straight forward. I pee on the stick and it tells me if I’m pregnant or not.”

“But the lines are confusing,” Sal said, furrowing his eyebrows. 

You shook your head, smiling. “No they aren’t. One line for negative, two lines for positive.” 

“Okay. One line for negative, two lines for positive,” Sal repeated. He watched with intrigue as you pulled your pants down and sat on the toilet, placing the stick between your legs. After a few moments, Sal spoke up. “Why aren’t you peeing?” 

“I’m nervous because you’re watching me!” 

“Okay, sorry, sorry. I’ll look away.”

Sal turned around and faced the wall and surely enough, within a few seconds he heard the trinkle of your urine against the toilet bowl. When you were finished you removed the stick from between your legs and placed the cap on it, pulled up your pants and washed your hands. “Now we wait two minutes,” you said, putting a timer on your phone. 

“Two minutes?” Sal exclaimed, to which you nodded. You could see through those two minutes how eager Sal was. He kept peeking between you and the test, biting the skin around his fingernails nervously as the timer on your phone ticked away. The second the timer went off, Sal grabbed the test from the side and looked at you. “We look together okay?” He asked, waiting for your nod of confirmation. “On the count of three. One, two, three.” 

On the count of three, Sal turned the test around to face the two of you and immediately you were faced with two clear, red lines. “One line for negative, two lines for positive,” Sal repeated, his eyes wide. He looked at you and immediately broke out into tears. The two of you began to hold each other as tears of happiness fell down your cheeks. “We’re having a baby!” Sal gasped as he caught his breath. 

“We’re having a baby,” you repeated, biting your lip and moving away slightly to look into Sal’s eyes. 

“Oh my God,” Sal exclaimed as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Finally!” 

“I know,” you said, laughter erupting from your throat. “I thought it would never happen because we wanted it so much.” 

Sal kissed the top of your head and smiled down at you. “I knew it would happen. I just knew it.” 

“Oh, did you now?” You teased lightly. 

“I did,” he remarked with a smirk. “Now come with me,” he said, holding out his hand for you to take. 

You took his hand and looked at Sal curiously. “Where are we going?” You asked. 

“Well, I was thinking we’d celebrate,” Sal smirked, grabbing your hand and leading you back to your shared bedroom. He closed the door behind you and took the pregnancy test out of your hand and placed it on his nightstand. 

“And how are we celebrating?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I think you know,” he grinned, pulling you down with him onto the bed gently. He pressed his lips to yours passionately, immediately poking his tongue into your mouth and fighting for dominance against your own tongue. You let out a soft moan into the kiss and sighed dreamily as Sal began to remove each item of clothing on your body. He did so teasingly, slowly, and passionately. His hands traced your curves, roaming over your stomach that was growing his child and cradling you protectively. “Oh my sweet girl,” Sal groaned as he squeezed your breasts slightly. “The mother of my child.” 

You smiled upon hearing those words, and revelled in the way Sal was touching you all over. “Sally, please don’t tease me,” you begged silently. 

“Okay, okay. Since you’ve been so good and you’re giving me a baby, I suppose I can reward you,” he said slyly. He removed his pyjama pants and boxers before climbing on top of you, lips attaching to your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin. Sal was already as hard as a rock. The thought of you finally being pregnant with his child had filled him with so much joy and arousal. He slipped his cockhead up your folds and lubricated himself before slowly inching into you. A loud gasp left your lips. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

You nodded in agreement, and held onto his shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist. His cock pushed deep inside of you and he finally bottomed out. A moan left his lips almost immediately. “Jesus Christ, Sal,” you moaned out, biting your bottom lip to stop a louder moan from leaving your lips. 

Sal’s pace was slow and sensual, a lot of love was poured into all of this. Your wish of having a baby together was finally coming true and Sal just wanted to show you how thankful he was. His hands roamed over your body, grasping and grabbing at every piece of flesh he could as he moved against you effortlessly. “God I love you so much,” he whispered into your ear. 

“I love you too,” you managed to choke out between broken sobs of pleasure. It was all becoming too much and you wanted Sal to move faster. “Please Sally. Move a bit faster.”

He complied with your request, his hips snapping against yours but still keeping the sensual rhythm. You let out a whimper as he continued to thrust into you, heavy balls slapping against you. “You feel so good,” Sal groaned, biting and sucking at you. His hands cupped your breasts and began to play with them gently, noticing how tender they were. 

“Sal, I’m gonna cum,” you cried out. Sal nodded and moved a hand down to your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves between your legs until you came undone around his cock. You squirted with ease, making a mess of the bedsheets and Sal’s torso. 

“God I’m going to cum too,” he whimpered pathetically. His hips continued to slam against yours, but his movements stuttered as thick ropes of cum spurted from his head and deep inside of you. He moaned your name over and over like a prayer he could never get sick of as he shuddered deeply. When he had finished cumming, he pulled out of you and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. A wide smile laced his lips. “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” you joked, nuzzling into him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered quietly. 

“What are you thanking me for?” You asked quizzically. 

“For giving the weird kid a chance. For seeing me as more than a freak who sees ghosts. For giving me the life I never thought I deserved.” 

A tear rolled down your eyes at his words. “Sal,” you sat up, and looked down at him. “You deserve all the love in the world. More than I can give you. But this child and I, will do the best we can to make sure you feel that love.” 

“I love you,” he said softly. 

“We love you too,” you replied, pressing your head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. 

“I suppose we have a lot of people to tell the good news too,” Sal said, sitting up. 

“I’ll contact the doctor tomorrow. We’ll get a scan before we tell people,” you answer, but nod at the same time. “We can have a little reveal party. Something grand and spectacular.” 

“I agree,” Sal nodded, kissing your forehead. “Tomorrow, we’ll think of ideas.” You nod in agreement and smile at him. “Rest now, my love. You’ll need it.”

You let out a soft yawn. “But it’s still morning.” 

“Have an early morning nap,” Sal chuckled. “You deserve it.” 

“Suppose I could take a nap. I have been up for a while,” you reply. Sal nodded and pulled you even closer to him until you were almost lying on top of his body. He stroked your hair until you fell into a sleep, full of dreams of motherhood and the excitement that was to come in your life. 

[vivgst]

Hey this is my first time doing an anonymous post but I just wanted to ask if you could maybe do like a fic where Valeria and reader are like friends with benefits but kinda have a tough and hateful love with eachother and sex too lolll

Heyyyy<3333 Dw, Im kinda new too, yesterday I was gonna answer one and I ended up deleting it.

All of us know how stubborn Valeria is, right? She lies a lot, even to herself.

Tw: Angst, smut, not happy ending.

If you had to talk about what your relationship with Valeria was like, you would say it was horrible, loving her was exhausting and consumed your soul, it hurt so much that you could even feel it physically and it was a hell that you refused to leave precisely because you were exhausted, leaving her was just another move that would leave you with less strength and you felt incapable of doing it.

And you were clinging, clinging to that kiss on the forehead that she gave you one night thinking that you had already fallen asleep, to her jealousy and possessiveness that seemed to be signs of love in a twisted and quite harmful way, you clung to her laugh that sounded like the one of a teenager and all those things that made you weak at the mere idea of ​​leaving her, you couldn't.

But with each passing day it became more present, it got in your thoughts like a virus and ate away your whole body, it made you spend sleepless nights.

What if you left her? It would hurt, yes, but you would be calmer and your peace was priceless, it was non negotiable, however you had given it to her as if it were not something important.

And eventually you got sick of it and in one of your endless arguments you left her mansion swearing never to return, she made fun of you, of course.

“You're going to come back like you always do.” She muttered mockingly as you walked out of the mansion with teary eyes.

But to her surprise, you didn't. Weeks went by and she didn't hear from you, you hid, you had the nerve to think she would be the one looking for you so you left your apartment, that made her even angrier.

Because well, she did look for you, but how dare you think she would? It had to be you, it was always you.

Valeria hated giving in, but she gave you what you wanted, she knew that even if you left your apartment you couldn't miss work so she went there at night.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you were passing through a deserted alley and you felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you deeper into said place, however you relaxed noticeably when you saw it was her.

“I thought I would crawl back to you.” You said sarcastically and she gave you a glare before rolling her eyes, Valeria hated your sarcasm but she would mess with you before you got through her and you knew that.

“You’re one of my best toys, chula.” She spoke in a low voice and you felt your heart sink and that uncomfortable feeling in your stomach that made you nauseous, something typical every time you imagined her with other women, in other arms, kissing other lips, it made you sick, there was nothing more unbearable than thinking about that.

But you were tired of fighting to show her that you cared, especially because it ended up being a sacrifice in vain that left you bleeding and if there was something that Valeria apparently liked, it was seeing you vulnerable and knowing that she was the cause of that pain.

“Maybe it's time you get someone better, there must be plenty of them out there.” You said and although what you wanted was to run away like a coward, you raised your face to meet her gaze that for the first time looked disconcerted, however she was able to hide it well in that mask of coldness she always had.

“I don't see the need to do that when I have you in front of me.” She spoke and you could tell she was going to say something else but you interrupted her.

“I don't want to see you again, Valeria. I don't want to keep in whatever this is, I don't feel like it.” You said and if you knew her a little better you might have noticed the fear in her eyes.

The idea of ​​losing you had never been something she considered because you had simply chased her so much that she couldn't imagine you leaving her, but it became real and she didn't like seeing herself waking up in an empty bed, wrapped in the same sheets she shared with you.

"You can not-"

“Are you going to force me?” You blurted out and knew that maybe implying that was a mistake.

She could do some crazy shit sometimes but never in her life and under no circumstances would she lay a hand on a woman if she said no, never. And you knew it, but you liked that now she was the one glaring at you, offended by your words.

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” Your voice was now echoing in the alley but there was no one and you were really so angry now that you didn't care if someone listened or not, you just wanted to hurt her, frustrate her. “You are like a man, you are always criticizing them but you are the same, you are doing the same shit they do to other women.” Your words hit a nerve and she pushed you against the wall, the sharp thump of your back against the concrete echoing throughout the place.

Valeria approached you, there was fire in her eyes and you grinned cheekily at her, no matter how angry she could be, she wouldn't hit you and you took advantage of that from the first moment you realized it.

“Shut the fuck up, do you have any idea what you're saying?”

“I do, honey. You are the same, you are just another rat, just like them. You're a fucking coward because you hate that I leave yet you still don't give me what I want!” You yelled at her and she clenched her jaw, Valeria was used to violence and her body normally reacted on its own to situations like these, so holding back was difficult for her.

“And what the hell do you want from me?” Valeria said, raising her voice as well and letting out a growl full of frustration, this night was going differently than what she planned. “What the fuck do you want? Speak". She murmured softly, her body pressed against yours and you felt yourself burning in her intense gaze, you hated her.

“You know what I want, I've said it a million times, you know I want to leave these games and be honest.” You tried to break free from the prison that was her body but her hands tightened on your hips, clinging to you as if the thought of letting go hurt. “I want you to admit that you have feelings for me.”

"I do not feel anything for you". She responded almost immediately and her gaze wandered all over the floor that was within reach of her eyes.

That was the problem with her, her love was weak, it wasn't enough. She was such a coward about this situation, you knew what she said wasn't true, but she refused to admit it, to being vulnerable because that would only hurt more in the end.

“Look me in the eyes when you lie to me.” You said in a whisper and when her gaze met yours your legs weakened, you could see the conflict in her tired eyes, the pleading and all the war that was inside her, she was showing it to you, because she never let you see nothing she didn't want. “Val, just-”

"I can't". She said in a thin voice and you had to swallow hard in an attempt to relieve the lump in your throat, her gaze was still fixed on yours and you knew what was going to happen, you hated yourself for it.

You hated yourself because when her lips met yours you didn't pull away, you wrapped your arms around her neck and held on to her. Her hands moved down to your thighs and tightened on them to lift you up and gently press you against the wall, your legs now hugging her hips.

The softness of the kiss went to hell as soon as it started, now her tongue moved inside your mouth with need and you sucked on it, earning a groan from her, your skin burning as you felt her body crushing yours against the wall and when her hand went to your pants you pulled away from her lips.

“You can’t fuck me in an alley.” You mumbled, you were breathless and panting, your chest rising and falling rapidly and you felt the adrenaline rush through your body. Valeria gave you a look full of confusion, her eyes narrowing slightly and you looked at her in disbelief, she was really confused.

"Why not?" She asked and you had to sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, biting it to hold in your laughter, it was unbelievable.

She didn't let you respond, she just rolled her eyes and crashed her lips on yours again, her fingers massaging the inside of your thighs and you had to hold on to her arms when you felt her move away from the wall, starting to walk and you were embarrassed because... what if someone saw you two? but what was happening felt too good…

You both got into the back seats of her car and you began to undress her, almost tearing off her clothes because the desire you felt to touch her warm skin was killing you. Your hands moved desperately and even then it wasn't the speed with which you expected them to move, plus being in that small space was quite uncomfortable, but you managed and then she helped you undress.

You straddled her thigh, her hands on your hips and yours on her shoulders to balance yourself a little as she began to move you slowly, the feeling stimulating enough to soak her skin and make you shudder, your sensitive nub throbbing every time as your hips rocked and you caught your lip between your teeth to keep from moaning too loudly, who knows, maybe someone outside might hear.

Valeria had her gaze fixed on yours, she loved it, she loved watching you fall apart in front of her and the way your gaze relaxed when you were turned on, how weak you were for her.

The heat was unbearable, the car windows were foggy and you began to ride her thigh faster, chasing your pleasure that swirled in your belly like a wave of fire. Your hand went between her thighs and you began to make circles with your thumb, gently massaging her clit, your other hand made its way to her jaw, raising her face abruptly so that her eyes returned to yours.

What you liked most about having sex with Valeria was that she could never swallow her pleasure, you had her almost drooling just from playing with that nub of sensitivity, she couldn't even moan, she just panted, she felt dizzy and there was no nothing she could think about other than how good you made her feel.

You weren't much different, your body was numb from tensing up so much, trying to hold onto your orgasm but you couldn't take it anymore and you let it wrap you in a warm hug, the movement of your hand between Valeria's thighs becoming erratic and trembly.

Suddenly you felt her hiss and her juices soaked your hand, both of you relaxed after the release and you got off her lap, the heat burning your skin wet with sweat, among other fluids.

You wanted to sleep right there, you were exhausted, but you didn't want to leave and you knew she wouldn't let you. And normally you would argue for her to listen to you and take you home, but you let her take you to the mansion, you let her guide you to her office even though you knew the way more than well, and you let her take off your clothes, much more slower than how you moved in the car. You sat at her desk, now she was the one who was taking off her clothes under the intensity of your gaze and everything began to move in slow motion but fast at the same time, you felt influenced by the same feelings that invaded you every time that you saw her, all the frustration and anger, uncertainty and pain, because you loved her and she insisted that she didn't.

She didn't love you, but her eyes ran over your body softly, she didn't love you but her hands worshiped your body as if it was one of a goddess, and you told yourself that she didn't love you thousands of times, while she kissed you, while her fingers sank inside you delicately.

But how could she not love you if the way she made love to you was a confession? The passion with which your bodies were wrapped was a poem and an oath that the fire could consume everything in its path except what she felt for you.

And it was so overwhelming to feel her so close knowing that her soul refused to connect with yours, your eyes betrayed you, letting the tears run down your cheeks and her eyes fixed on yours, she didn't need to ask anything because she already knew. Valeria knew it. She knew and felt your pain that was also hers, even your pain was hers, there was nothing left of you that you could claim as your own.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry". She murmured and had to take a deep breath to contain the sea of ​​emotions that would soon form a wave to try to drown her.

She pulled you into her arms, in one of those hugs that made you feel comforted, but they were the same arms that hurt you so the comfort also felt wrong, out of place.

You couldn't realize when you fell asleep, but you woke up with one of the pajamas she had bought you, in her bed, in her sheets, but without her.

Like always.

And you decided to blame the burning in your eyes from haven’t had much sleep, you decided you weren't crying because she had run away from you, you weren't crying because this was what always happened, she left you before you woke up because having a conversation with you was overwhelming and her throat felt dry just thinking about it.

You weren't crying, or were you?

You didn't know anymore.

[sometimesanalice]

oooo okay i have a prompt 💁🏼‍♀️ for the au version of bradley and sweet girl (and the little nugget!):

❝  well,  i do feel a little better now that you’re here.  ❞

Jordan! You know how soft I am about them! (in every universe, but especially that one!) I hope you like this! 🫶🏼

You will never not be happy to see Bradley Bradshaw, but seeing him walk though the open door of the in-progress nursery might be the best thing that's happened to you all day.

It's not even the large styrofoam cup you spy in his hand from your favorite milkshake spot, it's just him.

"You look nice," you sniffle from where you're seated on the floor, screws scattered around you like confetti.

"And you look stuck," he says gently, giving you a soft smile. Setting the cup on top of the dresser he'd built for you a few weeks ago. "Need a hand, kid?"

You nod, sure that you look more than a little pitiful right now.

Bradley has to press his lips together to keep from chuckling at just how adorably dejected you look, sitting there with your large bump and splayed legs.

All you'd wanted was to get the crib you'd ordered put together. You were in your third trimester and feeling more than a little useless in your own body. You'd just wanted to prove to yourself that you were still capable of doing things on your own.

And it had been going fine, until you'd accidentally dropped the open bag of screws on the floor. Too many to squat and pick up, you'd carefully lowered yourself down, only to realize you couldn't get yourself back up on your own.

You'd given up after your fifth attempt, teary and frustrated, and called Rooster.

He reaches down with his strong, sure hands to help you up off the ground. Pulling you up so easily, like it's nothing, that you're reminded all over again just how pathetic you've been feeling lately.

"You smell nice too," you say glumly, realizing you haven't showered yet today, as he helps steady you back on your own two feet.

"Stop you're going to make me blush."

"I thought the morning sickness was supposed to go away," you sigh. "But that guy from accounting dropped by my office earlier today, the one I told you about with the bad cologne, and I was nauseous the rest of the day."

His warm, brown eyes remind you of home. And as tough as it had been to uproot your life, it had been worth it to be closer to your best friend and favorite person. You've only been here for a few months, but you already loved San Diego.

Rooster makes a sympathetic sound. "He's the worst."

"He really is. He's also a mansplainer, so that's two strikes against him." You look at Bradley, looking very handsome in the knit polo he was wearing, and feel even more like a wreck in your very oversized tshirt, the hem of your stretchy shorts just barely peeking out from underneath it. "But you didn’t answer, why are you all gussied up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes darting away from you. "I was, uh, on a date with someone Nat knows from her kickboxing classes."

"Oh. Oh no, Rooster. I'm so sorry." More tears flooding your eyes at the guilt of ruining his night. You thought you'd already cried them all out before he'd got there, but apparently you still had more left in you.

Bradley's stomach twists at the sight of your lower lip wobbling, kicking himself for not bending the truth because the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad.

"Hey now, woah," he says, cupping your face. "None of that, kid. You rescued me from an awkward date with a woman who was still very clearly hung up on her ex."

"Still, I really am sorry. I don't want my mess to become yours."

He gives you a look you don't know what to make of. "Why didn't you wait for me, kid. I told you I'd swing by this weekend to help with all of this."

Bradley had kept his weekend free for you, not that you'd asked him too. He knew you were stressed about wanting to get the nursery in order, one less thing for you to think about. He was excited to see it come together, was looking forward to hanging up that little felt seagull mobile he'd bought for you as a baby shower gift.

At that godawful dinner, he'd nearly shot out of his chair at the watery warble of your voice, concerned that something had happened to you or the baby. He was more than happy to help, he wanted you to lean on him for these things. You chose to have the baby on your own, without your shitty ex, but that didn't mean you were going to be doing it alone.

"I thought I could handle it. It's just some prefab wood and shit," you huff with agitation. "I wanted to feel useful. But then I dropped the bag of screws and well..." You trial off and just gesture to the spot he'd found you, you'd left the screws on the floor out of spite.

You're just so tired. All the time. Tired and overwhelmed.

The tears fall on their own again, a mix of hormones and emotions. "Bradley, what was I thinking? I'm going to be a mom. This little person is going to depend on me and I couldn't even get off the floor." You're embarrassed when your voice cracks.

"Come here," Bradley murmurs, tugging you to his chest. He holds you as tight as he thinks he can without squishing the baby. The firm, rounded swell of your stomach pressing against his flat one.

You tuck your face into the space at the base of his neck. His woodsy smell more soothing than lavender could ever be.

Rooster runs his hand up and down your back. "You're growing a whole person in there. You need to yourself some slack. You aren't a mess. And that little peanut is going to be so lucky to have you."

You squeeze your eyes tight and nod. Trying to remind yourself that it's ok to be scared, because you also were excited. Excited to meet her, excited to be able to finally hold her, excited to introduce her to your best friend.

You feel your little girl shift and move inside of you. You pull away taking Bradley's hand in yours and setting it over where she's pressing against you, "I think she's happy you're here."

It's something that he doesn't think he'll ever get use to.

"'Course she is," he rasps thickly. "I'm going to be her favorite." He's still holding your hand, not ready to let go. "And you? How do you feel, kid?"

"Well, I do feel a little better now that you’re here too," you tell him, before giving him the first real smile that he's seen from you all night. "Especially since you brought me a milkshake."

He laughs and kisses the side of your head before letting you.

"Who knew you were such an easy girl to please."

You flip him off without heat, as he thumbs off the remainders of the wet tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Thank you, Rooster."

"You know I'm alway here for you," he says, squeezing your shoulder as he goes to fetch your treat.

Once he gets you set up in the oversized chair with your milkshake, he tosses you his phone and puts you on DJ duty while he works on assembling the deep brown wood spindle crib that you'd picked out.

You watch as Bradley double checks each step in the instruction booklet before he moves on to the next one. It's the most studious you've ever seen him, his tongue peeking out every now in then in concentration. The way he takes his time building the crib for your little girl, makes your chest feel warm.

You're both so lucky to have him.

Every now and then he looks over at you as he fits the pieces together. It makes his heart twinge in an unexpected way when he sees you running your hand over your belly, looking down at it with the softest of smiles on your face.

You're going to be such a good mom, he thinks to himself. And he'll be there right by your side. The best Uncle Rooster he can be.

For her, for you.

After all, you've always been his family.

[lawrencespen1777]

Hello! I hope you are doing okay :)

I’ve just recently found your blog and must say that I’ve definitely enjoyed your dialogue prompts!

Are you okay with writing requests? In case it’s fine for you, could you please consider writing a dialogue where two characters have to stay some kind of a hotel, because one of them is too sick and feverish to travel?

No pressure, I understand if you don’t want to write this!

Sincerely yours, anon with whumperflies.

Anonnnnnn, I know you said dialogue but I got carried away. Obviously. Hope you enjoy. This has been my favorite to do so far. You keep requesting. I’ll keep writing. Your prompts are good. ;)

Hotel Hell

“How you doing?”

W shivered unresponsively underneath the jacket he’d donned as his makeshift blanket. C hoped that meant that he’d finally drifted off.

“I’m alright,” came the quiet voice.

“Still feel nauseous?”

There was the sound of a thick swallow. “Yep.”

C burned away their nervous energy by drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Can I…do anything?”

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull-“

W had the back of one hand pressed firmly against his lips. The other hand fumbled with the door handle of the still moving car.

“Wait, wait, wait I’m going! Give me a second!”

W was exiting the car even as it slid to a stop on the side of the highway. C followed soon after. The spray of vomit trailed from the car to a large tree where W stood doubled, steadying himself with one hand on the trunk and the other braced on his knee. He heaved again, bringing up another slough of last night’s partially digested dinner.

C stayed by the car. Doesn’t make sense for them both to be puking. “You good?” C called. A shaky hand returned a thumbs up although W remained doubled. “Okay. I’m uh…I’m gonna sit in the car. Just…take your time.”

It was 10 minutes before W shut the door behind them again. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s not a problem.”

W sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass. “It feels like a problem.”

“Hey.” C pulled W’s arm so that he could see his eyes. “Really. It’s-shit.”

“It is shit.”

“No not that. I mean you.” He pressed the back of his fingers to W’s temple. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell me you had a fever?”

W shrugged. “I just want to get there.”

“Well it’s not happening today. We’re gonna stop somewhere for the night so you can sleep it off…-in a bed,” he finished, sensing W’s impending objections. “I’m not pulling over every 10 minutes for you to puke. Sorry about it.”

It was almost an hour before they reached the motel that would be their home for the night. C pulled into a parking spot underneath a street light that was long burnt out. “That’s promising,” he muttered, then noticed the paint peeling off the walls. “Great.” He shut the car door behind him and heard W do the same. “At least it still has all four walls right?” He glanced over at W who had his head resting on the car. “Hey, you alright?”

W swallowed a few times. “Yeah but…I think I’m gonna th-row up again.”

“Okay just…hang out alright? I’ll go grab the key and be right back.”

For a motel that barely registered on the not haunted list they sure required a lot of information from their “guests”. “For the security of all,” they’d told him. Here’s a thought: streetlights that work.

Fifteen minutes and a quarter of a century later he rejoined W in the parking lot. “Sorry it took so long. They wanted my grandmother’s maiden name before they’d give me a room key.”

“C.”

“Yeah?”

“I think something’s really wrong, man.”

“…okay. Like what?”

“I don’t know. I’m really dizzy. I’m freaking out.”

“Don’t freak out. You’re alright. Let’s just get in the room. You can drink some water. Eat something small. You’ll feel better.” He took W by the arm and guided him towards their ground floor room. W leaned against the wall as C pulled out the room key, but C could definitely see him swaying. He fumbled with the lock. Who has manual keys at motels anymore?

W was swallowing hard and breathing harder. He stared at a single fixed point on the sidewalk, but didn’t appear to be looking at anything. He stumbled sideways and C dropped the keys in an attempt to catch his arm. Then, without warning, W retched again. He tried to cover his mouth with his hand, but the vomit won. It spilled out onto his shirt and dripped down his arm, splattering onto his pants and shoes as it hit the ground in one sickening wave followed by a second. “I’m so-,” he choked as another heave brought up a thick slurry into the hand that he’d forgotten to move.

“Jesus.”

“I’m so sorry.” W was a mess with vomit covered clothes and tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His voice hitched again, but he only spat out bile.

“Don’t be. You’re-yeah-something’s wrong.” He pushed open the door and held it with his foot. “Do you think you’re done for a second?”

W waited a beat, then nodded.

“Can you walk straight?”

“I think so.”

“Okay so we’re gonna have to burn those clothes. Just take them off and while you take a shower I’ll run down to the 24 hour store we passed on the way in and see if I can find you…something…to help all this. Are you gonna be okay for a few?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah I’m okay.”

“Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Twenty-three minutes later (why is everyone so slow in this town??) C was working the finicky door key again. W opened it for him and his pale skin immediately stood out against the lamp lit room. “You’d make a good ghost.”

“I would’ve been one if you’d taken much longer.”

W rolled his eyes, but was relieved to hear some sarcasm come back from the dead. “This was all they had.” He threw W a pair of basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt.

“It’s fine.”

“I also got a thermometer, Tylenol, and Dramamine.” He laid each item out on the bed in succession.

“Dramamine? Isn’t that for like seasickness?”

“We’re close enough to the water.”

W took the pill bottles to the bathroom sink where he downed them with questionable tap water out of a plastic cup. He grimaced at the flavor and tossed the cup into the trash can.

“I also got you,” C rummaged in the grocery bag, “Everyone’s favorite. Peanut butter crackers.”

“Mmm,” W shook his head. “Mm-mm. Nope. Can’t do it.”

“You gotta eat something.”

“It. Won’t. Stay. Down. Were you not outside half an hour ago?”

W’s cheeks tinged with the slightest red. C pretended to not see. “Alright we’ll give the meds a minute to sink in. Then you’re trying them. I paid three bucks for these.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“…three dollars?”

“Yeah it’s the only store in this godforsaken town. They know they got you.” C opened up the boxed thermometer and tested it on himself. “Good news. I’m fine.”

“Fantastic.”

“I knew you’d be excited. Stay still.” C held the thermometer up to W’s forehead. “102.2. Damn…”

W crashed onto the bed and fell over sideways. He groaned.

“What?”

“What was in those pills you gave me? Whole room’s spinning…did you drug me?”

“Yeah I roofied your tap water.”

“I’m not putting out.”

“Uh yeah please keep in. Nobody wants to see that.”

W’s eyelids began to droop and C knew that the Dramamine had kicked in. He grabbed the bathroom trash can and put it beside the bed. “If you wake up before next week it’s right here alright?”

W’s eyes were almost shut, but he gave a small nod. C threw one of the blankets over him and walked over to his own bed. “Have a good coma.”

“Hey.”

C turned back. “Hey.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

[its-time-to-write]

Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!

I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written. Anyway, here’s your fic!

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps. 

You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine. 

It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice. 

The hormones don’t help either. 

But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out. 

You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off. 

—

You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain. 

It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie. 

Ah, right. Jamie. 

Your boyfriend. 

Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago. 

Shit. 

You call him back and he answers on the first ring. 

“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”

You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”

“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”

“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”

Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side. 

“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff. 

Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate. 

“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

—

Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags. 

“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross. 

Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.

Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun. 

“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross. 

So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.

A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does. 

“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”

“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”

Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are. 

“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking. 

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out. 

“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”

You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”

“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”

—

It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep. 

[holylulusworld]

A virgin at a sex store (3) - Sweet seducer

Summary: Your great aunt bequeathed her fortune to you. Her successful store in town. Problem is – it’s a sex store and you are a virgin.

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, age gap (the reader is 25; Dean 34), cocky Dean, teasing, Dean being a tease, talk about sex toys, kissing (yes, that’s a warning if it’s Dean), fluff, menstrual cramps

A/N: It's been a while...huh?

A virgin at a sex store masterlist

Catch up here: A virgin at a sex store (2)

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“Morning sweetheart,“ Dean lazily leans in the doorframe, smiling like the devil himself. Maybe he is the devil hiding behind emerald eyes. You never know with the cocky man stealing more than your heart. “Breakfast, yes or no.”

“Ugh…please don’t talk about food or stuff,” you grumble and lie back down on your couch. “I can’t even think about food without feeling nausea.”

“Did I…?” He steps inside your home to glance at you. “Damn, I’m good!” Dean exclaims. “I got you pregnant without stealing your innocence.” 

“What?” You roll your eyes. “That’s impossible, and you know it.”

“Hmm…” Dean looks at your belly, frowning as you clutch your abdomen. “You are suffering from morning sickness, Y/N. I did get you pregnant. We need to marry.”

You snort at his playful tone. “Dean, I’m not in the mood for bad jokes. Aunt Flo strikes again, and I don’t feel good. I’m nauseous, got terrible cramps, and on top of all, my mom called.”

“OH!” He nods slowly and glances at your tummy again. “Wait, let me help you feel better.” Dean makes quick work. Before you can protest you end up in his arms, squealing as he carries you out of your apartment. 

“Dean, where are we going? DEAN!”

“I’m working from home today. I need to finish a few ideas for new dildos, you know. I’ll bring you to my home, and we can work in my bedroom. I got a soft mattress.”

“I got a mattress too,” you huff. “At my bedroom, Dean. I can go to my bedroom and rest.”

“No, no. I’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” Dean pecks your cheek. “Good thing we are neighbors, and no one else is living next door.”

“Dean, you really don’t have to. I’m used to having cramps and to take care of myself when Aunt Flu arrives.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to. I got snacks, ice cream and, if you get lucky, I’ll make you my infamous bacon burger for dinner,” he grins and carefully places you on his bed.

Dean didn’t lie. His mattress is soft, and you already get comfortable when he covers you with a warm blanket.

“I’ll get you a hot water bottle, some tea, and a toast,” he flushes a pillow and puts it behind your back. “Just relax. I’ll be right back with everything and then I can check on the design for the new dildos.”

You chuckle. Dean talks about sex toys like everyone else about the weather. It’s normal to him to talk about sex and the toys, you sell at your aunt’s stores. “Dean!”

“What? I know how to take care of my girl,” he raises his index finger to stop you from protesting. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you sigh and snuggle into his pillow. “After the discussion I had with my mother last night, I could need some nice company.”

“Nice company comes your way,” he winks at you. “Give me ten minutes and you will feel much better.”

Dean took good care of you. He brought you a hot water bottle, the promised tea, and breakfast. 

While he checked on a few design ideas and talked about the website with the web designer, you watched him. He furrowed his brows or pursed his lips – making him look even more adorable.

You got lost in not-so-innocent fantasies while he worked. Lost in thoughts you didn’t notice Dean stopped working and called your name.

“What do you think, sweetheart,” he suddenly turned the laptop to show you the new pictures Charlie, the web designer added. “It’s the main menu. I think it rocks!”

“Hot damn,” you splutter. “Dean! That’s…that’s you and…” You lick your lips and stare at the picture. “You're on your car, and you’re holding the new Dean dildo in your hand.”

“Do you like it?” He grins because you can’t even think of an answer. “What do you think, Y/N? I want to hear your opinion.”

Your brain is busy ogling Dean lying on his car, chest bare, and with a cocky smirk on his lips. It seems like he looks directly at you. He lies on his car, legs spread wide, and a cocky smirk on his lips.

“It’s provocative but very sexy,” you try not to sound like a creep. You like Dean, and don’t try to objectify him. “I mean…the woman will love it, some guys too…or a lot of guys.”

“Awesome,” Dean laughs and slams the laptop shut. “My job here is done. We will sell a shit-on of dildos with my name on it.”

“I guess you’re right,” you bite your index finger while fighting the urge to open the laptop to look at the picture one last time. “But don’t you hate it when people objectify you, Dean?”

“It’s for the business, sweetheart,” he pats your thigh. “My pretty face sells a lot of sex toys. I’m not ashamed of my job. I love it, to be honest. Your aunt saved me, and my life back then. I owe that I do my job with passion.”

“She must’ve really liked you, Dean,” your smile saddens. “I wish that I stayed in contact with her. Only because my parents told me to stay away I abandoned her while she never forgot about me.”

“Hey, she knew that it wasn’t you. Martha adored you, Y/N. She always told us that it’s not your fault that you didn’t stay in contact with her.”

“I should’ve Dean! I loved her and didn’t see her again,” you sniffle now. “I’m an awful person for letting her down!”

“You’re the great woman Martha told all of us about. Never believe for one second that you are a bad person.” Dean tuts and wipes a tear off your cheek. “Now relax. I’ll make you some food and take good care of you.”

“Dean,” you sigh deeply. “My parents found out that Martha left me everything she owned. They want to know about the stores.” You bite your lower lip, chewing on it. “How can I tell them I now own sex stores.”

“With a smile,” Dean is quick to reply. He shrugs and winks at you. “Martha was proud of all the goals she reached in life. She left everything to you, sweetheart. Do not disappoint her by acting like owning her stores is a bad thing.” Dean gets up from the bed to put the laptop aside.

“That’s not what I meant,” you hastily say. “I’m just not sure they will understand that I took over Martha’s business. They are very…” You sigh deeply. “Old-fashioned. I think Daddy will faint if he looks at our website.”

“I bet he’ll go and buy condoms or a dildo,” Dean smirks cockily. “Whatever floats his boat, you know. Just tell them you took over Martha’s business. Who cares what they think about it?”

“You make it sound so easy,” you look at his laptop again. “You’re so self-confident, and always know what to say.”

“Ah, you’re already enchanted by me,” Dean dips one knee into the mattress. He dips his head to steal a kiss. “I’m the sweet seducer, Y/N. You should be careful, or you’ll fall for me.”

You cup his face to kiss him again. “Maybe I already fell for you, Mr. Winchester.”

A virgin at a sex store (4)

Tags in reblog.

[size0forhollywood]

Metafiction

Pt 7

Content Warning: 21+, ptsd, vomiting, Xavier appears, Wanderers, Violence, Mental Trauma, forced proximity, murder, torture.

A/N: Do I smell a love triangle coming? His sweet tenderness and boyish charms hook you in.. and you can’t help but take the bait.

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

Your head is pounding. Your whole body aches and your mouth is dry. You can hear the hum of a car. You’re sitting in one? How did that happen?

“Are you awake?”

You know that voice. It’s so soft. So ethereal.

You groan, your body really does hurt. What happened?

“Everything’s going to be okay now. I’m taking you to Linkon City.”

Linkon City? You’re finally able to open your eyes. You look down at your body, blood all over you. Bits and pieces of what happened are starting to come back to you.

“Those guys…”

“They’re not going to hurt you or anyone else again.”

You look at the driver, taking in his ashy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You finally recognise him.

“Xavier..?”

He stiffens upon hearing his name.

“How do you know my name?”

You suddenly feel nauseous. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Xavier pulls the car over, you open the door and fall to your knees. Vomit spraying out of your mouth before you even hit the ground.

Your arms clenching your stomach. As you throw up again. You hear the crunching sounds of footsteps coming towards you.

Xavier crouches down next to you and holds your hair back as you continue to throw up.

You spend the next few minutes breathing heavy trying to will the nausea to subside. You use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth.

“I can’t go to Linkon City..” your voice hoarse. Throat burning.

“You need to take me back.”

Xavier looks stunned at your request. He doesn’t understand why. He saw you at the compound looking miserable. Which is why he sent the bunny to you. Furthermore, he rescued you when those thugs broke into the safe house and attacked you. Why would you want to stay in the N109 Zone?

“You know it’s not safe in the N109 Zone.”

Plus, it was Xavier’s mission to collect you and bring you to his Captain for questioning about the wormhole.

“Let’s get back in the car-”

“I don’t want to go to Linkon City!”

You pull away from Xavier’s grasp. His blue eyes on yours, trying to understand you.

“We can’t stay out in the open like this. Let’s at least get to a building and hold up there?”

“You promise you won’t take me to Linkon??” Your voice was trembling.

Xavier holds his pinky up to you, “I promise I won’t take you to Linkon tonight.”

Such a sweet innocent gesture. You bring your pinky to his and they grasp each other.

“Alright let’s go.” Xavier gently grabs your arm and helps you to your feet. His fingers lingering on your forearm.

He helps you back into the car and shuts the door for you. Once he’s back in the driver seat he takes off looking for somewhere for you two to stay.

He found a small motel, it was nothing fancy. Unlike all the places you’ve stayed in with Sylus. But it will do.

Xavier pulls the car over just around the corner of the motel, keeping his car off the main road.

“Come on, let’s go.”

You both head into the main office where the motel owner sits behind a desk, chewing her gum and scrolling through her phone.

Xavier walks up to the desk.

“Two rooms.”

The lady still not taking her eyes off her phone.

“All the cabins are ensuites.” She blows a bubble until it pops.

“Okay, two singles then.”

“There’s only a queen left.” She finally looks up and she’s completely un bothered by your appearance. In fact she even smiles. As if she sees people covered in blood all the time here.

“Okay, that’ll do.” Xavier hands her some coins. She reaches behind her and grabs a set of keys off a hook. A tag with the number 3 hangs off it.

“The hot water has been cut off.” She says before you and Xavier leave her office to find your cabin.

The cabins were very old, paint peeling off the outside walls, moss growing up the sides, windows were cracking.

Xavier found cabin 3 and unlocked it. The door squeaked as he opened it. After taking a quick glance he looks at you with a small smile. He stepped aside and let you walk in first. To your relief the inside was a lot nicer than the outside.

You’re instantly greeted by a queen bed, there’s a tv on the wall in front of the bed, underneath the tv are a couple of cabinets. As you walk a bit further in there’s a tiny kitchenette, a kettle and a microwave sit on a bench.

And just off to the side there’s a door which leads to the bathroom. There was only a tub in the bathroom, no shower. A toilet and a tiny vanity, with a small sink.

Xavier starts looking through the cabinets.

“There should be a public laundry around here.” He mumbles while searching through the drawers.

“Aha.” He pulls out a robe.

“Something to wear. I can wash your clothes for you while you take a bath. I have a lot of experience getting blood out of clothes.” He offered.

You hug your body. Contemplating his offer. He was being so kind and you two barely know each other.

“Okay.” You whisper.

You accept the robe from his hands and go into the bath room to strip out of your soiled clothes.

You open the door a tiny bit, hiding your body behind it. Xavier has his hands out ready, you give him your bunched up clothes. He holds your gaze for a moment.

“Take your time, I might be a while.” He smiles again, his bright blue eyes looking at you so tenderly. You swear you almost feel your heart flutter.

You just nod at him and close the door.

After you hear him leave the cabin you wrap a towel around your body and go to the kitchen to grab the kettle and bring it back with you to the bathroom.

Lucky for you there was a power point in the bathroom. It took you a while to fill the tub up because you had to wait for the kettle to boil a few times just to get some hot water in there.

By the time you were done the water wasn’t even lukewarm but this would have to do. At least it wasn’t freezing cold.

You get in the tub and try to relax your muscles and think of a way to get back to Sylus or at least let him know that you were alive.

Maybe the motel owner? She was completely unphased by all the blood so maybe she might have a connection to a few criminals that could spread the word. It was a risk but you know Sylus always hears the chatter amongst the criminals of the N109 Zone.

How would you do this without Xavier finding out though? Your brow furrows. There’s gotta be a code or something you can use. You rest your head against the tub and sigh. What a nightmare.

You don’t know how long you were in the tub before finally hopping out.

Once you dried yourself you put on the robe. You tried to wrap it as tight around you as possible but the front was just so loose, your cleavage was showing. You blush at yourself not wanting to be around Xavier like this… but now you’ve got no other choice while you wait for your clothes to be cleaned.

You open the door and Xavier is sitting on the end of the bed, remote in hand as he flicks through the channels on the TV. Trying to find a channel that actually works.

He glances over his shoulder when he hears the bathroom door open.

“Your clothes are just in the dryer now. I’ve set a timer on my watch.”

“Thank you.”

You sit down near the head of the bed, trying to keep as much distance between you and Xavier as possible in this tiny cabin.

“So you still haven’t told me how you know my name.” Xavier’s back still facing you, he’s still trying to find a channel that’s not just static and white noise.

“It’s a long weird story.”

“We’ve got all night now.”

You sit and think to yourself. Should you tell him? He was trying to take you back to Linkon for a reason and you have no idea what they want from you.

“I..I can’t.”

Xavier stands up and approaches you. Something different about his demeanour. He looks so much taller in real life.

“I take care to remain a mystery while I’m in the N109 Zone. And you, who was the thing that came out of a wormhole here knows my name. You also left protocores at the wormhole site…something only wanderers leave behind…” he leans down till his face is right in front yours. “But you’re not a wanderer..” his brow furrowed as he tried to read your face.

“I don’t know why..” is all you could muster. He was actually quite intimidating right now and you feel yourself getting choked up.

He tilts his head. “Not good enough.”

“I really don’t know! Please, I don’t know how I got here or why!” Panic starting to flood through your nervous system as you remember how Sylus first questioned your sudden appearance. You can practically feel the black tendril down your throat again.

You didn’t even realise you were choking.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you!” Xavier’s hand grabs your shoulder, trying to soothe you.

“Breathe, just breathe.” His voice soft again.

But it wasn’t working, tears were starting to spill down your face as you relive the memory. You don’t know why your body was reacting like this, especially since things were starting to go great with Sylus.

Xavier grabs your hand and places your palm against his chest.

“Hey, focus on me. Focus on my heart beat. Not what’s in your mind.”

After a few gasps, you feel it. His slow heart beat underneath your palm. The sensations starting to ground you back to reality. The feel of his clothes, his breath on your face.

After what felt like an eternity of trying to steady your breathing you tilt your head up to look at Xavier. Eyes glossy, tear stained cheeks.

Concern and pity decorating his face. He pulls you in for a hug, your hand still on his chest.

“You poor thing.. what did they do to you?”

~

A shrill ear piercing scream fills the room.

“Please! We don’t know where she is!!” The man begs, he was suspended in the air a black tendril around his neck, four more pulling on all his limbs, stretching him. His shoulder already dislocated but the tendrils keep pulling.

“Our men were supposed to grab her! But somebody cut them down!” Snot and tears spilling out of his face.

“Please I don’t know anything else!” He begs.

Sylus steps out of the darkness, hands in his pockets, his right eye glowing.

“All you’ve told me is what I already know.” Sylus’ voice was deep and menacing.

The man starts screaming again as Sylus reads his mind. Images of a mysterious woman appear in the man’s head. They’re making a deal. She gives the man a bag of rare jewels as an early payment.

“Hmph. Old school tricks.”

Sylus flicks his wrist and the tendrils give one final pull. Ripping the man’s limbs and head from his body, his blood curdling scream being heard from miles away. Blood splatters everywhere, redecorating the floors and walls.

Mephisto appears in a cloud of black mist and feathers and lands on his shoulder. Sylus was able to fix and heal him which led Sylus to these thugs that tried to kidnap you.

Mephisto was also able to tell Sylus that the hunter they were trying to evade is the one that cut down all those men and saved you.

But now there’s another piece to add to the puzzle. This mysterious woman.

Sylus knows everybody in the N109 Zone but not her. And she just declared war.

~

You open your eyes and you’re laying in bed. Not sure when you had fallen asleep, you just remember being in Xavier’s arms. Letting him comfort you.

You look around the room and see that he’s gone. Your clothes folded neatly on the end of the bed.

Is this your chance? You sit up, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Slipping back into your clothes, he really did manage to get the blood out. You glance around the cabin one more time just to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, still no sign of Xavier.

Your fingertips reach the door knob, opportunity within your grasp.

“Going somewhere?”

You turn around, Xavier was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. His hair wet and he’s wearing the other robe, his chest and torso exposed, revealing his abs. You have to stop yourself from checking him out.

“Just want to get some fresh air.”

“You should know better than anyone that you can’t ’get fresh air’ in the N109 Zone.”

He walks around the bed and stops just in front of you. Your eyes follow a droplet of water slowly making its way down his neck.

He smirks a little. “You should go back to bed.” He whispers

You tilt your head up and see his beautiful blue eyes eyeing you up and down.

“I can’t get on the bed if you’re blocking the way..” you whisper.

Xavier’s eye linger on you for a moment, you notice a slight tinge of pink in his cheeks before he steps aside. He gets on the side of the bed closest to the door. Sitting up against the headboard.

“Try to get as much rest as possible.”

Damn it. You make your way to the other side of the bed and lie down on your side, facing away from Xavier.

“You’re gonna sleep in your clothes?”

Your face flushes. “What about you? You gonna sleep sitting up?” You keep your back to him.

“Heh, with you being a flight risk I doubt I’ll sleep much tonight.”

You see a golden light cast on the wall, all of a sudden a gold bunny starts hopping in front you. It lands on your pillow and starts wiggling its ears at you.

“Something to help give you sweet dreams.” Xavier says softly.

Your heart beat quickens at the kind gesture. Why was he being so sweet to you? He obviously has ulterior motives?

Right?

It had felt like you had only just gotten to sleep before Xavier was standing over you gently shaking you awake. He had a finger on his lips signalling you to be quiet. He was dressed in his hunters uniform again.

There were voices outside, male voices. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying but Xavier motioned for you to get out of bed. His hand gently on your forearm.

“We have to get out of here.” His whisper barely audible. You can see the serious look on his face and just nod your head to show him you understand.

You both head to the bathroom, he locks the door behind you and goes straight to the bathroom window.

“We’re gonna have to be quick. I’m going to break this window and they’ll probably come in here when I do.”

Xavier still hasn’t let you go.

“I’ll help you out the window okay?”

You nod again.

“Okay. 3. 2. 1.”

He used the hilt of his sword to smash the window. Xavier is fast to lift you up by the hips to the window sill. You can hear the men starting to shout now as they break down the front door.

A bit of panic surges through you as you pull yourself out and through the window. You jump down and are actually surprised you land on your feet and you look up. Waiting for Xavier.

He jumps down and immediately grabs your hand and breaks out into a run.

The men shouting behind you as they realise you two have escaped.

You keep running into the perpetual darkness, hand in hand.

“Xav…Xavier please stop.” You wheeze. Your legs are aching, lungs burning you feel like you’re about to collapse.

You don’t know how long you two have been running for but whoever was after you is long gone now.

Xavier stops to let you catch your breath. His was noticeably faster too but he was more composed that’s for sure.

“Who.. were they..?” You ask still breathing heavily.

“Most likely the same mob that ambushed you at the house.” Xavier is looking around, trying to find anywhere for you two to lay low for a bit.

“Why is everyone suddenly after me now? I’ve been here for months.” You stand up straight and take a deep breath in.

Xavier doesn’t answer your question. “We need to keep moving.”

Suddenly there’s a chill in the air, goose bumps appear on the back of your neck. You got an incredibly sick feeling in your gut. Something was coming.

You look around trying to see what was out there but you could hardly see through the nights darkness.

A slight breeze kicks up and carries an echo of mixed voices.

“X-Xavier?” You turn back to look at him but he was gone.

“Xavier?”

The echos were getting louder, the air getting colder. Your heart beat getting faster. Fear was washing over you.

Your surroundings were starting to warp. The trees, the rocks, the ground beneath your feet.

“What is this?”

You hear a deep laughter surround you.

“Silly girl.”

“W-who’s there??”

You turn around on the spot. No body was there. Every fibre in your body starts telling you to run and you do. You didn’t even care which direction you were headed in you just needed to run!

The voices still following you, getting louder.

“Leave me alone!” Your hands covering your ears as you run but it was no use.

You trip over a rock and try to scramble to your feet.

“Sweetie?”

You stop and look up.

“Sylus??”

Sylus steps towards you but there was something wrong.

“Look at you…so fucking pathetic.”

Tears spring to your eyes.

“Why are you saying this Sylus?”

Sylus steps closer and that’s when you notice it. His eyes were black! An evil grin spread across Sylus’ face.

“Ugly!”

“Y-you’re not real!”

Another Sylus with black eyes appears.

“You disgust me, stupid whore!”

“No, no, no.” Tears prick your eyes. What was happening? Where was Xavier?!

More and more Sylus figures popped up surrounding you.

“You want to fuck the hunter don’t you?”

“Disgusting slut!”

“Whore!”

“Pathetic!”

“Please stop!” You beg, you’re on your knees, tears streaming down your face. Hands over your ears. Everything feels like it’s spinning.

“I should’ve killed you when I first saw you!”

“Disgusting!”

“Pathetic!”

“Slut!”

You start to sob. “PLEASE STOP!”

“You sicken me!”

“Xavier!” You cry out, you squeeze your eyes shut and start rocking. “Please help me!”

All the Sylus figures converge into one and it starts to grow and disfigure.

“You’re so damn pathetic. You disgust me.” The disfigured Sylus finishes transforming to reveal its true self.

A Herte Knave wanderer.

You’re paralysed with fear as you watch the Herte Knave stalk closer to you.

“Xavier!” You cry out.

The Herte Knave raises its blade and lunges at you.

You close your eyes but a bright light appears and you hear the clink of a sword.

Xavier blocks the wanderers attack and starts fighting it. Every swing of his sword shot out a ray of light.

The wanderers movements were getting slow Xavier pulls his sword back and runs at the Herte Knave and plunges his sword into its chest.

The wanderer dissipates, leaving behind a protocore which Xavier crushes in his hand.

He turns back to you and crouches down in front of you. His hand on your back.

“Are you okay?” His voice tender.

You look up at him, the tears still falling down your cheeks. Fear still in your eyes.

“Xavier.” You sob.

Your eyes never leaving each other. His hand still on your back comforting you. You don’t know why, whether it be the adrenaline, the fear, or just needing something else to ground you.

But you lean forward and kiss Xavier.

To your surprise…he kisses you back.

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

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Could I please have an imagine where the reader moves to Seattle. She starts out as a pediatrician at grey loan. Around this time she realizes she's pregnant. With Carina DeLuca as her ob-gyn and coworker the two fall for each other. Carina did not expect to fall for a pregnant woman but realized she knows what she wants. So she asks you out and you say yes around the time you are halfway through the pregnancy. by the end of the pregnancy, it becomes clear you much you and your baby mean to her. When you go into labor she freaks out and comments that “My girlfriend is having our baby!” (you hear her say that but say nothing due to the pain). When the baby is born she is in awe of the tiny human but kinda keeps to the side for a few minutes until you say “come meet OUR son.” Carina tries to apologize for calling him hers but the reader says that Carina is his mother too. Just like a cute family thing please?

Our baby

Summary: The world is full of unconventional families.

Pairing: Carina Deluca x female!reader

Warnings: i have no real knowledge of pregnancy or other medical things, cursing

Word count: 2944

a/n: Carina Deluca please give me a chance🙏🏻

masterlists | guidelines

Arizona Robbins shows Y/N around the hospital, introducing her to the kids staying there for a longer period of time and some of the other doctors there. She just moved to Seattle and decided to continue working as a pediatrician at the Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, having heard a lot of good about it.

“All the kids already love you.” Arizona gushes, excited to have a new coworker. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

Y/N laughs. “That’s great to hear, I was really nervous to relocate here, you all seem so close.” She smiles, having seen how the doctors interact with each other.

“We are! We have gone through a lot together, so, we’ve gotten close. But don’t worry, you’ll fit right in. Doctor Deluca!” She stops another doctor. “This is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, new to PEDS. And this is Doctor Carina Deluca, our OB-GYN.”

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N gives her hand out to shake, which Carina does.

“Nice to meet you too.” Carina looks at her up and down. “You’re not from here?”

“No, I moved from Boston.”

“That’s a long way.” Arizona comments. “I’m guessing the reason wasn’t just change of scenery?” Shaking her head, Y/N smiles. “I’ll learn about that later, I’m sure.”

“Sure thing.” Y/N laughs.

Carina glances at her pager. “Well, I’ll see you two later. I have a baby to deliver.” She gives them one last smile before walking away.

“Well, lets start the real work then. You’ll shadow me for a couple of days, so you learn where everything is and so on.” Arizona starts walking again, Y/N following right behind her. “I know you’re not a beginner, but you can still ask me anything you’d like.”

“Thank you, Dr Robbins. It’ll be a pleasure working alongside you.”

“Oh, please, call me Arizona.”

After a week of great work shifts, Y/N has started getting nauseous out of nowhere, especially in the morning and the middle of her shifts. Although, it’s very unusual for her, she hasn’t paid much attention to it. She has a hectic work after all, it must be the nerves.

Y/N writes down information to the kid’s chart on the tablet. “You’ll be just fine, Jules.” She assures, turning to the parents. “She’ll just get her some medicine and after making sure she reacts to it well, you can go home.”

“Thank you so much, Doctor Y/L/N.” The mother cries out in relief, grabbing Y/N’s hand.

“Of course. A nurse will bring the medication over soon.” She turns to the said nurse. “Make sure Jules doesn’t get any nausea-“ taking in a deep breath, she pauses, feeling increasingly nauseous herself, “or rashes. If everything is fine in thirty minutes, they can leave.”

“Got it, Doctor Y/L/N.” The nurse smiles and grabs the tablet out of Y/N’s hands.

With a nod and a smile, Y/N leaves the room, holding her stomach lightly. The sick feeling in her stomach is getting worse quickly. She walks into the break room to get some water from the fridge.

“Hey, Y/N.” Carina greets as she walks in.

Eyes wide, Y/N coughs, getting some water in her windpipe. “Hi.”

“Everything okay?” Carina laughs.

“Mhm.” Screwing the cap back to the bottle, Y/N grimaces. The water didn’t help the nausea. “Uhm, how are you?” Her voice comes out a bit strained, but she does her best to hide the sickness.

“I’m alright.” She stares at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good.”

Taking few deep breaths, Y/N nods. She grips her scrubs tightly, as if it would lessen the pain she’s feeling. “Listen, I-“ Suddenly, Y/N runs into the bathroom. She drops down to her knees and starts vomiting.

“You’re definitely not okay.” Carina mumbles as she kneels next to Y/N. She rubs her back with one hand, while the other holds her hair out of the way. “When was your last period?”

Y/N heaves over the toilet, keeping her eyes closed. Vomiting was always difficult for her. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying?” She turns to look at Carina, who can only offer her a hopefully comforting smile.

After the vomiting stops, Carina takes Y/N to a examination room, so she can draw her blood. Now, Y/N is waiting on the bed for Carina to come back. Her mind is a jumbled mess. She isn’t sure what to think.

Carina steps inside the room. Y/N looks up at her expectantly. She sits down to a chair right next to Y/N. “You’re six weeks pregnant.”

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N holds her stomach with a shocked expression.

“Can I ask if this is a wanted pregnancy? Is the father in the picture?”

“Is this a- I don’t, I don’t know.” She gasps, feeling like the air is getting thinner. “The father is the sole reason I left Boston.”

“Okay, hey, I need you to calm down your breathing.” Carina grabs her hand. “Take some deep breaths.”

Y/N breathes in and out, following Carina’s lead. “I’ve always wanted kids.” She starts once her breathing is more stable. “I love them, that’s why I went into PEDS. But alone? I don’t know if I could do that.”

“You still have time to think, but, I think if anyone could do this, it’s you.” Carina rubs rubs the back of her hand with her thumb. “I am here for you every step of the way, whatever you decide to do.”

“Thank you, Carina.” Her voice wobbles a bit. “Are the hormones supposed to be all over the place yet.” She lets out a teary laugh.

“Yes,” Carina stands up. “They are going to be a mess through it all.”

Y/N stands up with a groan. “How fun.” She huffs and put her doctor’s jacket back on. “Well, thank you, Dr Deluca. I suppose I’ll be seeing you a lot.”

“You will, lucky me.” She smiles, opening the door for her. “See you later, Y/N.”

“See ya.” Y/N waves as she walks back into her shift, like nothing happened.

After three weeks, Y/N has her first official appointment with Doctor Deluca. She has made her decision and is ready to confirm it with her OB-GYN. “Ready for your first ultrasound?” Carina sets up the machine while Y/N climbs up to the examination bed.

Nodding, Y/N stares at Carina. “Everything will be okay, right? There’s not going to be anything bad in there.” Carina raises her brows while listening to her ramblings. “I’m totally feeding into the doctor’s are the worst patients stereotype, aren’t I?”

“Hmm, just a little bit. May I?” Carina takes hold of the hem of Y/N’s shirt, lifting it only when she gives her permission to do so. “This is going to be a little cold.” The gel feels chilly against her stomach, which makes her flinch. “Now, I’m going to press this to your abdomen and move it around bit to see everything.” Once the probe presses against her stomach, Carina starts studying the ultrasound image.

The longer she stays quiet, the more worried Y/N gets. She tries to see the screen, but it’s angles just out of her sight. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes!” Y/N lets out a sigh of relief. Turning the screen to face her, Carina shows Y/N where the embryo is. “It is around 22 millimeters long right now, there’s its head and limbs.” She points around the screen. “Its tiny muscles are starting to develop at this tome. Want to see if we can hear the heart?”

“Can we? This early on.”

“We can with a Doppler monitor.” Carina puts the ultrasound machine to the side and cleans the gel from Y/N’s stomach, before putting gel on the probe of the monitor. After that, she presses the head of the probe against Y/N’s abdomen, moving it around to find the right spot. “Can you hear that?”

A quiet, but clear galloping sound can be heard through the monitor. Y/N hums with a nod, biting her lips as she can feel herself get emotional.

“Sounds like a perfectly strong heart.” Carina smiles at the look on Y/N’s face. Even though she has done the same thing multiple times, this feels just a bit more special compared to the other ones. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” Y/N sighs deeply. “I don’t even know how to word it. I’m tired and so scared, but I feel amazing. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

There’s a permanent grin on Carina’s face as she listens to Y/N talk. She likes to listen to her talk, even if it’s just nervous rambling.

“Is that normal?”

“To feel like you’re going crazy? Yes, it is, you have nothing to worry about.” She sets her hand on her leg, rubbing it in a comforting manner. The actions makes Y/N’s cheeks warm and stomach flip.

“Thanks.” She breathes out, clearing her throat. “My shift starts in twenty.”

“I’ll let you go get ready then.” Carina wipes any remaining gel off of Y/N’s stomach and pulls her shirt back to normal. “I’l see you around?”

“Yes.” Y/N hops off the bed.

Opening the door, Carina sets her hand on Y/N arm to stop her from walking out. “Will I ever see you outside of the hospital?”

A shy smile grows to her face. “Definitely.”

“Heyy,” Carina lifts her hands up in celebration, “look at that bump! We’re halfway there.” Y/N laughs, closing the exam room door. “Today is a very important ultrasound, are you ready to know the gender of your baby?”

“I am more than ready.” She lays down to the bed, lifting up her shirt and lowering her pants so her stomach is visible.

“What are you hoping for?” Carina sets everything ready for the ultrasound, it all being normal for Y/N now. She puts of the gel as Y/N says she doesn’t have a preference. With a smile, Carina puts the probe to her abdomen and starts moving it around. “Everything is looking good.” She mumbles, trying to find an angle where she could see the baby’s sex. “I can see all ten fingers and ten toes.” Suddenly she starts grinning. “Do you want to know your baby’s gender?”

“Yes.” Her voice comes out quietly. She bites her lip as she stares at Carina.

“It’s a baby boy!”

Y/N laughs, excited to know something about her future baby. She opens her arms when Carina leans down to hug her. “I have to start thinking about names.” She whispers.

Carina pulls away from the hug to put the ultrasound machine away. “Don’t have options yet?” She asks while wiping away the gel.

“No. I’ve been too stressed and tired to think about anything.” She lets out and airy laugh, pulling her clothes back to normal. “But knowing he is alright in there, maybe I can give myself some rest.”

“Please do. Have you felt him kicking yet?” Y/N nods with an excited grin. “May I?” She sets her hand under Y/N’s shirt once she gets her permission. They wait in silence, nothing happening, but after a while, a small kick can be felt. Carina cheers and rubs Y/N’s stomach.

“It still feels so unreal.”

They stare at each other with wide smiles and shiny eyes. The two have been going out for months now, but they still haven’t made anything exactly official, mostly because Y/N is worried about her pregnancy getting in the way of their relationship. But it just feels so right, like it’s meant to be. Every time Carina touches her, whether is for medical or other reasons, Y/N gets such a high from it.

“You know I want this, right?” Carina lets her hand stay on Y/N’s stomach. “I want you and everything that comes with it.”

Y/N bites her lip, setting her hand on top of Carina’s. “You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“You aren’t going to back down once you realize how insanely the hormones are affecting me? We’re only half way there.”

Rolling her eyes, Carina nods. “I’m not backing down. I want to be there for you, not only as your OB-GYN, but as your partner.”

“Okay. I’d like that.”

“Yeah.” Carina leans closer, waiting for Y/N to say anything against what she’s doing in case she isn’t feeling it, but when she just nods, Carina presses her lips to Y/N’s.

One of Y/N’s hands goes up to Carina’s hair, combing though it. Carina pulls away, but stays close enough to feel each others breaths. “I might start crying unless I leave, like right now.” Y/N whispers, feeling her emotions taking over.

With a chuckle, Carina fully pulls away, giving Y/N some space to stand up. “I’ll see you at your apartment after my shift?”

“Yes.” Kissing Carina’s cheek, Y/N leaves right after.

Humming a song quietly to herself, Y/N is going through the patients’ charts. Her shift is almost at the end, so she likes to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be.

“Bambina.” She smiles at the sound of Carina’s voice, even when it sounds disapproving. “You should be resting.”

“I’m fine, Carina.” Y/N smiles at her, pecking her lips. “Besides, my shift ends any second now.”

“You’re about to give birth any second.” Her brows are raised as she sets her hand on Y/N’s stomach. It’s true, Y/N is a few days over her due date, but she wants to help out as long as she can.

Y/N’s smile somehow widens from the mention of giving birth soon. She’s absolutely terrified, but also so excited to meet her son. “I know,” she grins, “but there still kids that need me.”

“Sometimes you should just stop the day.” Carina states, which makes Y/N furrow her brows. “Make it a day?”

“Call it a day.”

“Yes.”

Y/N laughs, setting the tablet down. “I know, but I’m still feeling gr-“ She gasps, taking hold of her stomach.

Carina goes into worry mode immediately. She takes hold of Y/N. “What? What happened? Are you okay?”

Taking few deep breaths, Y/N looks down at the floor that’s now wet. “My water just broke.” She mumbles. Straight away, Carina goes to grab a wheel chair for her, helping her down to it. Y/N pushes air out of her mouth. “It hurts.”

“Everything will be okay, Y/N. Everything will be okay.” The last sentence is mostly to herself, as Carina is starting to feel terrified by the situation. Her girlfriend is about to give birth right now. “We need an OB!” She shouts as they arrive to the right floor. “She’s about to give birth.”

A group of nurses jog over to them, they bring Y/N to a bed and start getting everything they need ready. “Aren’t you her OB?” One of the nurses asks.

“My girlfriend is having our baby! I can’t deliver him.” She panics.

The nurse nods, paging another OB-GYN to their location. Y/N cries out in pain, not able to pay attention to anything happening around her. The doctor arrives fast and starts doing her thing right away. Carina stays in the room, but in the sidelines, giving them space to work.

“Hey there, Doctor Y/L/N.” The OB smiles, putting on gloves. “This is your first baby, right?” She sets Y/N’s legs to a correct position so she can see everything.

“Yes.” Y/N’s breathing is getting faster from the pain. “Can I start pushing?” She gasp when the pain increases.

“Yes you can.” The OB glances at Carina. “Does Doctor Deluca want to come over here and hold Y/N’s hand?”

Carina snaps out of her panic and drags a chair next to Y/N’s bed. She sits down and grabs Y/N’s hand. “You’re doing so good.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Y/N screams as she pushes. Her grip on Carina’s hand tightens every time the pain gets stronger. “How long is this going to take?” She cries out.

An hour and a half later, the baby’s cries can be finally heard. Y/N slumps down to the bed, laughing and crying in relief. “Can I see him? Can I see my baby?” Her eyes are half closed, finally feeling everything.

A nurse cleans the baby down, before bringing him over to Y/N. She smiles widely as she takes hold of him. “He’s so beautiful.” Y/N whispers, caressing his head gently. She turns to look at Carina, who has moved back to the side. She looks amazed by everything that just happened. “Come meet our son.”

Carina’s eyes widen, she thought Y/N hadn’t heard her. “I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called him mine, he is your son.” She starts apologizing.

“Shut up.” Y/N laughs quietly, stretching her hand towards Carina. “He is our son. You said no backing down, remember?”

Carina’s eyes tear up as she takes Y/N’s hand and sits back down next to her. “Hello, my angioletto.” She whispers, grabbing his extremely small hand with her free hand. Looking at Y/N, she mover her hand to rub her cheek. “You did such a good job, bella.”

Y/N smiles, kissing her palm. “We have a son.”

“We have a son.” Carina laughs, looking over her family.