#my sleeping pattern from before the meds is back

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 17✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language, Dean on pain meds, reader is struggling - a fucking lot

Word Count: 7061

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

The hallway was quiet as you made your way back to Dean’s room, your steps soft on the cold floor. Your heart still raced from the conversation with Sam, but there was a strange calm that had settled over you as well—one that came from knowing he understood and accepted what was between you and Dean.

You carefully pushed the door open, slipping inside as silently as you could manage. The dim light from the hallway spilled in for a moment before the door clicked shut behind you, plunging the room back into shadow. You froze, your eyes adjusting to the faint glow of the bedside lamp.

“You know, you’re not exactly stealthy”, Dean’s voice rumbled softly from the bed, startling you.

You turned toward him, your heart skipping a beat. He was awake, of course. His hunter’s instincts rarely let him sleep deeply, and you should’ve known he’d notice you slipping out of bed. His green eyes, sharper than they had been in days, flicked up to meet yours, and a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Where’d you run off to?”, he asked, his voice low and gravelly, though there was no trace of annoyance—just curiosity.

You bit your lip, slipping out of your sweater and climbing back into bed beside him. His arm automatically lifted to let you curl against his uninjured side, and the warmth of his body enveloped you. “Bathroom”, you said softly, your fingers resting lightly on his chest.

Dean’s smirk softened as you settled back into his side, your fingers tracing light patterns over his chest. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he leaned down, his lips brushing against your jawline. The kiss was slow and deliberate, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he trailed soft kisses along your jaw toward your ear.

His broken arm rested gently on your hip, his fingers curling slightly to keep you close. You felt him tense as he shifted, a quiet wince slipping from his lips as the motion pulled at his injured ribs.

“Dean”, you whispered, concern lacing your voice. Your hand immediately went to his arm, your fingers resting lightly over the cast. “Careful. You’re supposed to be resting”.

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, his lips hovering just below your ear. “I am resting”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “This is my kind of resting”.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, even as you tried to keep your worry in check. “Resting doesn’t usually involve wincing in pain”, you pointed out gently, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze.

Dean pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes still soft but tinged with determination. “It’s fine”, he said, his voice gruff but affectionate.

You glanced down, your heart skipping a beat as you instinctively searched Dean’s shirt for any sign of fresh blood. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see any new stains—this time, at least. But your relief was short-lived as your eyes caught sight of his broken arm resting on your hip. The fingers peeking out from the edge of the cast were dark purple, bruised and swollen, and they twitched slightly as he tried to move them.

Dean’s rough fingertips brushed over your hip in a featherlight, tentative motion. The small gesture made your breath hitch, but you couldn’t ignore the way his fingers barely moved, like every slight touch was an effort.

“Dean”, you murmured, your voice soft but filled with concern as you placed your hand over his cast. Your fingers lightly traced the edge of the plaster, careful not to press too hard. “You shouldn’t be moving this arm at all”.

His lips quirked into a faint smile, though there was a flicker of exhaustion in his eyes. “Doesn’t hurt that much”, he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, and the lines of pain etched into his features betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow, not buying his bravado for a second. “Dean”, you said again, your tone firmer this time.

Dean sighed heavily, a mix of defeat and that ever-present stubbornness. “Alright, alright”, he grumbled, letting his bruised fingers relax against your hip. “I’ll hold it still, okay?”. But before you could feel relieved, he added with a small smirk, “But lemme kiss you”.

The sudden shift in his tone made your cheeks flush, and the warmth shot through you before you could stop it. Your eyes flicked to his face, and despite the bruises and the exhaustion, that teasing, irresistible charm was still there. It wasn’t fair how he could make you feel like this, even in his condition.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re impossible, you know that?”, you muttered, tilting your head toward him.

Dean’s grin softened into something warmer as he leaned forward just enough to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, his movements careful as if he was more concerned about not hurting you than himself. His lips, slightly cracked but still so soft, moved against yours in a slow, tender rhythm that made your heart flutter.

The heat in your chest grew, and you tried to push it away, knowing he needed rest far more than anything else. But his good arm tightened around you slightly, his fingers brushing against your back in a way that sent shivers down your spine. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss just enough to make you lose track of everything else.

“Dean”, you mumbled against his lips, your voice barely audible. You tried to pull back, but he followed, capturing your lips again with a quiet hum of satisfaction.

“What?”, he murmured, his voice rough but playful, his forehead resting against yours when he finally let you pull away. “You’re the one who keeps saying I need to rest. Pretty sure this counts as rest”.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the warmth that spread through your entire body. “This isn’t exactly what I meant”, you said softly, your fingers brushing over his chest, careful of his injuries. “You’re supposed to be healing”.

Dean’s green eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked at you, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your side. “Sweetheart, this is the best medicine I’ve ever had”.

You rolled your eyes at Dean’s words, but you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back in, pressing your lips to his again. The kiss was soft, slow, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy either of you. You felt yourself moving closer, careful of his injuries but unable to resist the pull of his warmth and the way his lips molded perfectly to yours.

Dean’s thumb brushed lazy circles against your side, his good hand slipping under the hem of your shirt as his fingers traced your skin. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent shivers coursing through you. When he pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice was rough and laced with mischief.

“You know”, he murmured, his words slurred just enough to remind you how tired he still was, “I can think of a way… where I wouldn’t have to do much of anything”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. His green eyes, dark with desire but softened by exhaustion, held yours, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Dean..”, you said, your voice a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

“I know, resting”, he whispered, his good hand sliding a little further up your side, the warmth of his palm against your skin making you shiver. “That’s the beauty of it. You’d be in control, sweetheart. All you gotta do is…”. His voice trailed off as his smirk deepened, his eyes flicking down your body before returning to your face.

The implication in his words made your cheeks burn, and you couldn’t help the way your thighs pressed together at the heat building between them.

He grinned at your reaction, his thumb still tracing small circles on your skin. “C’mon”, he teased, his voice dipping lower, huskier. “I’d just lay here, lookin’ at you—watchin’ you do all the work”. His words were laced with a lazy confidence, but there was a rough edge to his tone that told you just how much the idea affected him, too. “Bet you’d look so damn good ridin’ me”.

Your breath hitched at his words, and your face grew impossibly hotter. You’d never heard Dean talk to you like this before—not this openly, this unabashedly. It was overwhelming, making your heart race and your stomach twist in nervous excitement. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, spreading through your body, and you couldn’t deny how much his words affected you.

“I’ve… I’ve never—”, you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but Dean cut you off with a soft kiss.

He shifted slightly beneath you, his good arm keeping you close as his eyes roamed over your face, drinking in your reaction.

“That just makes it better”, Dean continued, his voice dropping even lower, taking on a soft, teasing edge. “Means I get to teach you everything, make sure you do it just right”.

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you couldn’t stop the small gasp that slipped from your lips. “Dean”, you mumbled, trying to keep your composure, but his grin only widened.

“What?”, he teased, his thumb dipping just a little lower, brushing the bare skin above your waistband. “Just sayin’—I’d love to see you on top of me, takin’ your time. You’d look so damn good, movin’ just how you want”.

Dean’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a soft groan as he tilted his head back against the pillow. His thumb continued to tease the bare skin above your waistband, but his grip on your hip tightened ever so slightly, as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“Sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice rougher now, tinged with a frustrated whine that caught you completely off guard. His head lolled to the side, his green eyes locking onto yours, hazy with exhaustion and pain meds. “Don’t make me beg”, he grumbled, his words slurred slightly but still carrying that signature Dean Winchester charm.

You blinked, taken aback, your lips parting as you tried to process his tone. He sounded desperate, his usual confidence muddied by the haze of medication. The sight of him—battered and bruised but still so determined—made your heart ache and your stomach flutter at the same time.

“I’m serious”, Dean continued, his good hand sliding further up your side, his fingertips brushing just under the edge of your bra. His breath hitched slightly as he leaned his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t make me beg, sweetheart. You’re killing me here".

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice soft but tinged with amusement. “You’re not exactly in any condition to—”.

“I don’t care”, he interrupted, his tone suddenly more urgent, though still laced with exhaustion. “C’mon, baby. I’m just… I’m too damn tired to argue. Just wanna feel you, okay?”.

The vulnerability in his words, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, made your resolve crumble. You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you considered his request.

“Fine”, you murmured, your voice barely audible as you leaned in closer. “But you tell me if it’s too much”.

Dean’s lips curved into a faint, victorious smirk as his thumb traced a slow, lazy line up your side. “Wouldn’t dream of stoppin’ you”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire despite his weakened state.

The anticipation in the air was electric, your heart pounding as you shifted slightly, your thighs brushing against his. Dean let out a low groan, his head falling back as his good hand guided you, his bruised and battered body completely at your mercy.

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly pushing them down over your hips. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the heat pooling in your stomach drove you forward. Biting your lip, you glanced at Dean, who was now fumbling awkwardly with his boxers, his injured body making every motion slow and deliberate.

Dean grunted, his frustration evident as he tried to push the fabric down without jostling his broken arm or pulling at his stitched-up chest. “This is harder than it should be”, he muttered, shooting you an apologetic but amused glance. His lips quirked into a lazy smirk as he caught the flush on your cheeks. “You could help, you know”.

You rolled your eyes, though the blush on your face deepened. “You’re impossible”, you muttered, leaning over to help him tug the boxers down just enough, careful not to hurt him. His warm skin brushed against your fingers, and the contact made you shiver, your curiosity bubbling over.

As you sat back, Dean’s smirk turned into a grin, his good hand settling back on your hip. “See? Teamwork”.

You shot him a look, your voice laced with mock annoyance but softened by your shy smile. “I’m not sure if I like this version of you, high on painkillers”, you grumbled, though the playful edge in your tone gave you away. “You’re too bold”.

Dean chuckled lowly, his voice rough and teasing as he tilted his head back to look at you. “Bold, huh? Sweetheart, this is just me being honest. The filters are gone”. He let out a soft groan as you settled back against him, his hand tracing a slow, lazy line along your side.

You narrowed your eyes at him, though the warmth spreading through your body betrayed you. “Is this the Dean women usually get?”, you asked softly, your voice tinged with both curiosity and embarrassment. “The ones who aren’t… like I was?”.

Dean’s smirk softened into something warmer, more sincere as he looked up at you. His thumb continued its gentle path along your side, his touch deliberate and grounding. “You”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, “you get whatever you want. Always”.

His words sent a shiver through you, and you bit your lip, your blush deepening as you sat on his lower stomach. You were acutely aware of the hard length of him pressing against you, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Dean’s good hand moved with purpose, his fingers sliding down your body until they brushed against your inner thigh.

“C’mere”, he murmured.

You felt his thumb find its way to your slick folds, brushing through them with a slow, deliberate stroke that made your entire body tremble. Dean let out a low groan, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he felt just how ready you were.

You whimpered softly, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. His touch was skilled but gentle, his thumb moving in slow circles as his fingers teased you, spreading your arousal.

Dean let out a soft, strained chuckle, his fingers gliding through your wetness again as he murmured, “Don’t even need to get you ready, do I?”. His voice was rough, edged with a mix of desire and exhaustion, but the heat in his gaze burned into you, making your entire body tingle.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his eyes as the embarrassment and need warred within you. “Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling, but he didn’t let you say more. His good hand slipped away from your folds, settling back on your hip to steady you.

“Alright, sweetheart”, he said, his voice softer now, though still tinged with that teasing edge. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna take control, yeah? Move just how you want. I’ll… guide you… a bit”.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands braced lightly against his chest. The thought of taking control, of being the one to lead, was both thrilling and terrifying. You nodded slowly, swallowing hard as you looked down at him.

“Good girl”, Dean murmured, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through you. His thumb traced small circles on your hip as he continued, his tone gentle but firm. “Start slow. Take your time, okay? You’ll figure it out”.

You let out a shaky breath, lifting yourself slightly and aligning your hips with his. The feeling of his tip brushing against your entrance made you gasp softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you pressed down just enough to let him begin to stretch you.

Dean groaned low in his throat, his good hand tightening on your hip as he felt you envelop him inch by inch. “That’s it”, he rasped, his voice strained. “Slow, sweetheart. Nice and slow”.

You nodded, following his guidance as you sank lower, your body adjusting to the unfamiliar stretch. The sensation was overwhelming but in the best way, a mix of pleasure and anticipation as you took him deeper. Dean’s head fell back against the pillow, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep still, his broken arm resting awkwardly at his side.

“Feel so damn good”, he muttered, his voice hoarse and full of awe. His hand on your hip gave a soft squeeze, urging you to keep going. “That’s my girl. Just like that”.

You blushed deeply at his words but let them encourage you.

As you slowly sank down further, the stretch grew more intense, the last couple of inches making you inhale sharply. Your body tensed instinctively, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you tried to steady yourself. Your hands fluttered near Dean’s shoulders, hesitant to press down, not wanting to hurt him further or strain his injuries.

Dean’s eyes flickered open at the sound, and his gaze softened when he saw the tension in your face. “Hey”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, but filled with reassurance. “You’re alright, sweetheart. My shoulder’s fine”.

You bit your lip, looking down at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your body struggled to adjust to the overwhelming sensation.

Dean’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Trust me”, he muttered, his tone taking on that familiar teasing edge, even though his voice was heavy with desire. “If this is hurting me, it’s the kind of pain I’d happily live with”.

His words made your cheeks flush, the tension in your body easing just slightly. He tightened his grip on your hip, guiding you down another inch, groaning low in his throat as you took more of him. “That’s it”, he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. “Nice and easy. You’re doing so good”.

The way he looked at you—half-proud, half-crazed with need—sent a rush of heat through your body. You nodded shakily, your breaths coming in short gasps as you tried to relax around him.

“Take your time”, he said softly. “No rush, sweetheart. Just feel it”.

You followed Dean’s guidance, your body trembling as you slowly, carefully, sank all the way down until you were fully seated against him. The stretch was intense, overwhelming, but the way his warmth filled you sent a rush of heat through your entire body. A low, guttural groan rumbled in Dean’s chest, his fingers flexing against your hips as he felt you clench around him.

“Fuck”, he muttered, his voice thick and breathless. His head fell back for a moment, his eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again to meet your gaze. “You’re so tight, sweetheart”, he rasped, his good hand stroking your side. “I’ll never get over how good you feel”.

Your breath hitched at his words, your hands still braced on his chest for balance as you tried to adjust to the sensation. The intimacy of the moment, the way Dean looked at you like you were the only thing in the world, made your heart race. But as much as his touch grounded you, there was an uncertainty flickering in your mind—you weren’t sure what to do next.

You searched his face, your blush deepening as your eyes met his. “What now?”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with nervousness.

“First, you’re gonna take that bra off”.

Slowly, your hands moved up to the straps of your bra, your fingers trembling as you slipped them off your shoulders. You reached behind to unclasp it, letting the fabric fall away before tossing it aside.

Dean’s good hand immediately slid up from your hip, his palm warm and calloused as he trailed it up your side. His eyes roamed over you appreciatively, his gaze darkening with awe and hunger. “That’s my girl”, he murmured.

The weight of his gaze made you shiver, your hands instinctively moving back to his chest for balance as you tried to steady yourself. Dean’s fingers brushed lightly over your ribs before his hand settled just below your breast, the motion both tender and teasing.

Dean’s hand lingered just below your breast, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that made your breath hitch. His green eyes, darkened with desire, never left yours as he leaned in slightly, his voice a husky murmur. “Just move, sweetheart”, he whispered, the heat in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you nodded, but the truth was, you had no idea what you were doing. You’d never done this before—never taken control like this—and the vulnerability of that realization made your heart race.

Dean seemed to sense your hesitation, his good hand sliding back down to your hip. His grip was firm, reassuring, as he guided you gently. “Start slow”, he murmured, his voice softer now, tinged with patience and encouragement. “Just lift up a little, then come back down. You’ve got this”.

You placed one hand on Dean’s shoulder, the firm muscle beneath your fingers grounding you as you tried to follow his guidance. Slowly, you lifted yourself just a little, your thighs already trembling with the effort, and eased yourself back down. The stretch was still intense, a sharp reminder of just how new this was for you, and you bit your lip to keep from wincing. Every movement felt awkward, uncertain, and you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

Dean groaned softly beneath you, his grip on your hip tightening slightly, but instead of reassuring you, it only made you hyperaware of your inexperience. A wave of doubt washed over you as your mind spiraled. You knew how many women Dean had been with, how effortlessly skilled and confident they must have been, and here you were, fumbling through something that was supposed to feel natural.

Your cheeks burned, and you avoided meeting his eyes, the vulnerability threatening to overwhelm you.

You took a deep breath, determined to try again despite the uncertainty twisting in your stomach. Slowly, you lifted yourself once more, using Dean’s shoulder as leverage. The movement felt awkward, uncoordinated, and when you sank back down, the stretch was still sharp and overwhelming. Your thighs burned from the effort, and you couldn’t ignore the growing sense that this wasn’t at all what it was supposed to feel like.

Your blush deepened as your insecurities bubbled to the surface. Your small breasts barely moved with your motions, nothing like the exaggerated scenes in the movies you knew Dean used to watch. Your mind raced, comparing yourself to the women you imagined had shared his bed before, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t measuring up.

The self-consciousness made your movements stiffer, more hesitant, and your frustration grew with every awkward attempt. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to stop entirely.

Dean was trying his best to focus on the overwhelming pleasure that came with feeling you around him, tight and warm and so incredibly perfect, rather than the sharp, persistent ache radiating from his injuries. Despite the awkwardness you felt, every movement you made sent jolts of heat coursing through him, the sensation so intense it nearly made him forget the throbbing in his chest and arm.

His good hand gripped your hip firmly, helping guide your slow, uneven motions as he gritted his teeth against the mix of pleasure and pain. He was already close, the sheer intensity of you—how good you felt, how new and raw this was—enough to push him dangerously near the edge. But then he noticed the shift in your body language, the way you hesitated, your movements faltering.

“What’s wrong?”.

Dean’s thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a tear as he tilted your chin up gently, trying to catch your eyes."Hey". His voice softened further, concern laced through every word. “Sweetheart, talk to me. You´re hurt?”.

Dean’s thumb continued its soothing path along your cheek, his green eyes searching yours with a mixture of tenderness and worry. “(Y/N)”, he mumbled softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Are you hurt? Did I—did I do something?”.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip as you tried to find the words, your hands clutching his shoulders for support. “No”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not that”.

His brow furrowed, his gaze filled with confusion and concern. “Then what is it? You’re shaking like a leaf”, he murmured, his tone patient and encouraging, even as his thumb brushed away another tear. “Talk to me. I need to know what’s going on”.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The warmth in his eyes, the softness of his touch, made it impossible to keep your insecurities hidden. “I just…”. You paused, your cheeks flushing as the words caught in your throat.

You took a shaky breath, the words heavy in your chest as you finally forced them out. “I just… I’m so bad at this, Dean”, you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as you looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “I know I’m disappointing you right now”.

The confession hung in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on your chest as embarrassment clawed at you. You felt so exposed, so small, and the silence that followed only made it worse. “I’m clumsy, I don’t know what I’m doing, and… and you’ve probably had so many women who were amazing at this”, you continued, your voice trembling. “And here I am, just… failing”.

Your hands fell from his shoulders, wrapping around yourself as if you could shield yourself from the vulnerability you’d just laid bare. “I feel so stupid”, you added, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill over again. “I just… I want to be good for you”.

Dean’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. There was no frustration, no hint of disappointment or irritation. Instead, his green eyes softened, his expression melting into something so tender and full of love that it nearly stole your breath.

“Baby”, he said, his voice rough but impossibly gentle, “you couldn’t disappoint me if you tried”.

You blinked up at him as his hand cupped your cheek again, his thumb brushing away another stray tear. He shifted slightly, careful of his injuries, and fixed you with a look so full of warmth and sincerity that it made your chest ache.

“You’re not clumsy”, Dean said firmly, his voice steady and full of conviction. “You’re not stupid. And you sure as hell aren’t failing”.

Your lip trembled as you met his gaze, the knot in your chest loosening just slightly at his words. “But I—”.

“Listen to me”, Dean interrupted. “This isn’t about how many people I’ve been with or what anyone else has done. This is us, okay? Just you and me. No comparisons, no expectations“.

Your lip quivered as you whispered, “I’m sorry”, the words barely audible as you bit down on your bottom lip. The vulnerability you felt was overwhelming, but Dean’s thumb brushed against your cheek again, grounding you.

He shook his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “Don’t apologize”, he murmured softly, but then his lips quirked into a small, teasing smirk. His eyes darkened just a little, a spark of heat flickering there. “Do you even know how hard it is for me to hold back right now? Because, sweetheart… you’re so fucking hot like this”.

The unexpected boldness in his words sent a shiver through you, your cheeks burning even hotter. “I…”, you started, but the way his voice dropped lower made your breath catch.

“Let me finish”, he whispered, his tone deep and rough with sincerity. His good hand slid back to your hip, his fingers tightening slightly as if to emphasize his next words.

“You have no idea what it does to me”, he murmured, his gaze unwavering. “Knowing that I’m the only one who’s ever felt you. That no one else has ever touched you like this, made you feel like this”.

His hand tightened slightly on your hip, anchoring you in place as his words sunk deep into your chest. “You’ve given me all of yourself—your trust, your body, everything. And, sweetheart, I don’t take that lightly. Not for a second”.

Your cheeks burned, the weight of his words crashing over you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as his eyes searched yours, their green depths softened by the tenderness in his expression.

“You’re all mine”, he continued, his voice soft but firm, like he needed you to understand just how much he meant it. “Every sound you make, every time you tremble under my touch, it’s because of me. And no one else gets to have that. Just me”.

The possessiveness in his tone was undeniable, but it wasn’t harsh or overwhelming—it was filled with love, a deep-seated need to cherish and protect you. His forehead pressed gently against yours, his lips brushing over yours in the faintest of kisses.

“You’re perfect to me”, he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Every inch of you, every moment we’ve share. It’s all mine, just like I’m yours”.

Dean let the heavy silence linger for a beat longer, his forehead still pressed against yours. The raw, emotional intensity in his eyes softened just slightly, and you could see the faintest flicker of mischief returning to his expression. His lips quirked into a small, teasing smirk, and you could feel the shift in his demeanor.

“Besides”, he murmured, “if you keep clenching like that, sweetheart, I’m not gonna last long enough to keep making these romantic speeches”.

Your eyes widened, a soft gasp slipping from your lips as his words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you. “Dean!”, you squeaked, your cheeks burning hotter than ever.

He chuckled, the sound low and raspy. “Just being honest here. Thought you liked that about me”.

You bit your lip, torn between laughing and burying your face in your hands to hide your embarrassment. “You’re impossible”, you muttered, but the small smile tugging at your lips gave you away.

Dean grinned wider, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Impossible? Nah”, he teased. “I’d say I’m pretty damn good at this”. His gaze darkened slightly. “And judging by how tight you’re holding onto me, I’d say you agree”.

You groaned softly, leaning forward to press your forehead against his shoulder, hiding your face. “Stop”, you mumbled, though the breathy laugh that followed betrayed you.

Dean chuckled again, his good hand moving up to stroke your back gently. “Alright, alright”, he said, his tone softening as he kissed the top of your head.

Dean’s fingers brushed over your back in slow, soothing strokes, the rough calluses on his hands a comforting contrast to the softness of his touch. Your forehead remained pressed against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you. His good hand trailed up and down your spine, a silent reminder of his patience and care, even as his thumb occasionally dipped to your hip in a way that sent little jolts of electricity through you.

His lips moved closer to your hair, and you felt his breath warm against your scalp as he murmured, his voice low and tinged with amusement, “You wanna try again, sweetheart? ’Cause, uh… in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m still rock hard here, baby”.

You froze for a moment, your face heating at his words.

“No pressure, though”, he added, his voice softer now, the teasing edge giving way to genuine reassurance. “I mean it, sweetheart. If you’re not feeling it, we stop. Simple as that”.

You lifted your head slightly, your gaze flicking to his face. Despite the smirk playing at his lips, his green eyes held nothing but warmth and understanding. He wasn’t rushing you; he wasn’t pushing. He was just… waiting, patient and steady, letting you decide.

You bit your lip, letting out a shaky breath as your fingers brushed lightly over his chest. “You really don’t make this easy, you know”, you mumbled, half teasing, half shy.

Dean’s grin widened, the wince from his earlier movement fading into the background as his good hand slipped down to your hip again, grounding you. “That’s kinda the point”, he murmured, his voice rough with affection and just a hint of heat. “But I’ll behave if you want me to”.

The glint in his eyes told you he was lying—Dean Winchester didn’t do “behaving” very well—but the sincerity in his tone reassured you nonetheless. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers playing with the edge of his shirt, before you nodded.

"That’s my girl”, Dean whispered, his voice low and laced with pride. He shifted slightly beneath you, wincing as he reached out with his good hand to grab the edge of the blanket. The movement was clumsy, the effort clearly costing him as his chest tightened in protest, but he managed to pull the blanket up and over your shoulders, draping it around you. The gesture was so Dean—thoughtful, protective—and it made your heart swell.

“You’re good”, he murmured. “Take your time”.

The blanket helped you feel less exposed, and the warmth of it, combined with Dean’s steadying touch, gave you the courage to try again. You lifted your hips gently, the stretch still intense as you moved slowly, carefully. You settled back down with a shaky breath, the motion awkward but filled with intention. Your hands clutched his chest for balance, your fingers grazing over his warm skin as you found a rhythm, though it was far from perfect.

Dean’s breath hitched as you moved, and his fingers flexed against your hip. “That’s it”, he rasped, his voice strained but encouraging. “Just like that, sweetheart”.

You bit your lip, focusing on the way his body felt against yours, the way he filled you completely. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Your movements felt unsure, your thighs trembling with the effort, and you couldn’t shake the thought that you weren’t doing this right.

“You’re perfect”.

You glanced at him, your blush deepening. “I’m… I’m not”, you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I’m doing”.

Dean’s lips quirked into a small, crooked smile, his green eyes gleaming despite the exhaustion etched into his features. “Sweetheart”, he murmured, his tone a mix of teasing and affection, “if this is you not knowing what you’re doing, I’m in trouble”.

The words made you laugh softly despite yourself, your nervousness easing just a little more.

You were trying your best, but the rhythm wasn’t quite right, your thighs burned, and you felt self-conscious about every little shift and wobble. It was impossible not to wonder how it compared to what Dean had experienced before.

But Dean? Dean didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t care.

“You feel incredible”.

What he didn’t say—what he would never say—was that yeah, maybe the mechanics weren’t exactly flawless, but none of that mattered. Not when it was you. His feelings for you were doing all the work, filling in every gap with the overwhelming love and desire that had been building between you two. You could’ve been the clumsiest, least experienced partner on the planet, and it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference to him.

Dean’s grip on your back tightened slightly, his good hand slipping further down to guide your movements just a little. “Slow it down”, he whispered, his voice strained but gentle. “Take your time. You’re doin’ so good”.

You nodded, biting your lip as you followed his guidance. The slow, deliberate pace made the stretch more manageable, though it still left you trembling with effort. Dean groaned softly beneath you, the sound rumbling through his chest, and the heat in his eyes darkened.

Dean’s groan deepened, his voice thick with both pleasure and restraint. His head tilted back against the couch as his grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Sweetheart”, he murmured, his lips curling into a faint, teasing smirk. “I’m pretty close down here”.

You felt your face heat at his words, but the pressure building in your thighs and the ache in your body made it hard to focus on anything else. While Dean was on the verge of release, you weren’t even close. No matter how hard you tried to keep moving, to find the right rhythm, your nerves and inexperience kept holding you back.

You let out a frustrated breath, your movements faltering slightly as you tried to ignore the growing sense of inadequacy. But Dean was always tuned into you—your emotions, your body, everything. His green eyes opened, meeting yours with a warmth that instantly made your chest tighten. He didn’t say anything at first, just watching you with that same mix of affection and desire.

Then, without warning, his good hand slid from your waist to your thigh, his calloused fingers brushing over your trembling skin. “C’mere”, he muttered, his voice rough but tender. His thumb pressed gently against your sensitive bundle of nerves, circling it slowly with a deliberate, practiced touch.

Your breath hitched sharply, your entire body jolting at the sudden wave of pleasure. “Dean”, you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as your hips instinctively bucked against his hand. The sensation was overwhelming, all-consuming, and you could feel your muscles beginning to tense as his thumb worked in perfect, steady circles.

“Relax”, Dean whispered, his voice like gravel and honey, grounding you even as he pushed you closer to the edge. “Let me take care of you. Just focus on this”.

His fingers didn’t falter, his movements precise and gentle yet insistent, coaxing every little reaction from you. The strain in his own body was obvious—his breathing ragged, his muscles tense—but he didn’t stop, his focus entirely on you.

“You’re so beautiful”, he rasped, his words tumbling out between groans as you clenched tighter around him. “So damn perfect. Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you”.

His thumb pressed just a little harder, and the tension in your body snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over you so intensely that it stole your breath.

Dean’s good hand stayed firm on your thigh as the intensity of your release rippled through you, your entire body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed down your spine. The feeling was overwhelming, raw, and utterly consuming. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you gasped for breath, and his voice—low, hoarse, and full of praise—grounded you in the moment.

“That’s it, sweetheart”, Dean rasped, his voice strained but filled with admiration. “You’re so damn perfect… so good for me”.

His grip on your hip tightened slightly, guiding you through the aftershocks as your body pulsed around him. The sensation was too much, pushing him over the edge. With a guttural groan that sent shivers through you, Dean followed, his entire body tensing beneath you as his own release tore through him.

His groans of pleasure turned strained as his stomach muscles scrunched in the process, pulling at his injured chest. He winced, his face contorting in a mix of pain and bliss, but he didn’t stop.

You could feel the tension radiating through him as his release claimed him fully, his breathing ragged and uneven. Despite the obvious discomfort, he didn’t let it detract from the moment. His hand brushed over your thigh again, soothing and grounding as he let out a final, exhausted groan, his head falling back against the couch.

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your shared, heavy breaths. Dean’s chest rose and fell beneath you, and his good hand moved to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns in an effort to steady you both.

Finally, his green eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a soft, lopsided smile that made your heart ache.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs @emily-winchester @star-yawnznn @noell666 @averagedenjienjoyer0290 @impala67rollingthroughtown @stellamagicmoon

[halinski]

rant in tags about perscription medication and withdrawals

continued here bc i reached tag limit and i'm still??

it's kinda scary tbh

like i was scared for years now of what would happen off my meds and

when i tried tapering off my antidepressants oof i was breaking down every day and now i /know/ i'm dependant on them and idk if that's better or worse

and with the antipsychotics it's like i thought they were helping my depression too bc when tapering off i was also so panicked and depressed (tho my situation is kinda stressful rn)

but idk i've been trying meds on and off for half my life now and most of the time i'm like 🤷

but the truth is

it's fucking scary how it messes with your body

it's fucking scary when you're dependant on a pill

OR ALSO

when pills fuck your body up to the point you can only eat one thing

bc that's the reason i'm going off the antipsychotics and guess what, i'm able to eat more again now

idk if it's just in combination with the hormon pill tbh i'm just going off both now and we'll see how my iron levels and migrains deal lmao

i feel like i can't think straight anymore

gonna have to get new docs anyway so we'll see what they say if(/when) i go anemic again or if going off the antipsychotics will actually fix the issue??

if so, then it'll be like how did this sneak up on me, i've been taking them for 2.5 years like

??

and now i've lost 20lbs despite trying everything to maintain or gain some the past year and a half and i'm at my lowest weight since i was like a preteen lol

and that's all bc of a med that didn't feel like it had an acute effect

or maybe i'm so removed from my body i didn't notice until i got the acute gastritis ??

i mean i can't even be sure its the meds or not until i'm off

and tapering the rest off is gonna be so fun fuck

i dont wanna

i wanna be able to eat more than bread i guess but at this point the thought just scares me and like i associate it with pain and nausea

which as long as i can manage it is fine

but i've only tapered off half, i still have to taper off the other half of the dosage 😭

and with the hormon pill gone again the worst menstrual pain will be back and idk how to manage that, i guess hopefully with the meds gone i won't go anemic again but who knows at this point??

also praying my migraines don't come back but uh... i am pessimistic. i don't have much hope

anyway

moral of the story.....

ALWAYS MAKE SURE TO TAPER OFF YOUR MEDS KIDS BC EVEN JUST TAPERING IS SCARY AND GOING COLD CHICKEN IS PROBABLY HELL

doctors can be annoying (and make things harder, like in my case bc i literally asked if it could be my current meds MONTHS ago, and everyone was like noooooo but guess who was RIGHT) sometimes BUUUUT you should listen to them avout certain things

like

tapering off meds

[the-summ0ning]

Sleep Token HC: being in a relationship with vessel

Hello, I hope you like my final HC for Ves. Fluff elements with highly NSFW ideas. 🤠 I’m always open to HC requests as well 🤭

Vessel, vessel, vessel—where do we begin?

Vessel the bf that is so deeply profoundly in love with you

If he could he’d rip his heart out of his chest for you and just hand it to you, he would.

His love languages would be words of affirmation and physical touch

He often battles with icky thoughts of himself, and you’re his ever radiant light in his bleakest days, so he would go out of his way to make sure it was known

Notes everywhere around your house, even a month and half into tour, you keep finding them

Praises in your medicine cabinet, crumbled pieces of paper at the bottom of your bags bc he know you won’t find them right away. Little Sonnets on your desk or on the fridge just so you know how much you are loved by him

Once you stopped finding them around the house or in your things, he’d start sending flowers or treats with love notes attached. Just because gestures especially if the night before you told him what a long week it was and knew you were struggling

You have so many of these notes, post its, scraps of paper you’ve compiled them in a scrapbook/binder and it’s on your bookshelf now

Texts for when you wake up reminding you to take your meds/vitamins, and to keep up with your water intake—voice memos too

Honestly he’d send you voice memos all the time like it was your own little podcast

Having black paint smeared on you because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself

Or would want you to apply his body paint before a show. Squirming underneath your fingers as you apply it because of your featherlight touches, listening to his quiet hisses when you’d go too low and gentle

“We’re not going to make it out of this dressing room if you keep doing that, love.”

Vessel would love to be big spoon, having you tucked underneath him or your back against his chest. Tracing patterns on your arms, hips, and thighs

He always loomed around you, everyone knowing if you were there, he was somewhere lurking around 95% of the time. He was a quietly protective man.

Coming up when you were talking with friends at an event, a comforting squeeze to the nape of your neck and a drink to quietly check on you

Wearing one of his extra robes backstage. It was so big and light, perfect for the hot and humid venues, a great blanket tbh where you could use the hood to cover your face

There’s a folder in his phone dedicated with pictures of you in many spaces of the venues they played just sleeping with his robe over you

Also the amount of videos of you two just frolicking around backstage, helping him with dance moves whilst in his robe that dragged on the floor, nearly tripping on it, when you wore it because it was so long on you

You liked to go into the crowd during the shows, enjoying the atmosphere of fans. Vessel would get a kick out of that, and you two would make it like a game almost

Instantly being able to spot you in the crowd through the lights and smoke. Always looking in your direction to lowkey serenade you and do little inconspicuous moves directed for you. In return, you’d run your hands through up and down your body swaying your hips to his voice. His own little siren in the sea of people

He loved watching you jam tf out with the fans so careless in your own world dancing with everyone or receiving bracelets from the fellow concertgoers (he would panic slightly watching you try to go into the mosh pit every time tho, one time he actually had to send a member of the crew to discreetly retrieve you.)

I imagine vessel being codependent af, and the simplest of tasks you were always requested to tag along

groceries, pharmacy trips, picking up takeout—he needed his emotional support person. Bribing and rewarding you with little treats to lure you with him thinking you’d say no how could you he’d hit you with the puppy dog eyes I just know he’s master at that

Staying up or waking up to listen to his late night rambles/dreams/conspiracies tucked under his arm while sharing a joint or bottle of spirits

Or sitting beside him as he wrote song lyrics, quietly running them by you for your opinion. You just blinking slowly in awe with what his mind created unable to provide the input he wanted

I thinks it’s a mutual consensus among us: Vessel loves to bite. He can’t help his carnal primal urge to. He does it with his friends, you… Everyone had a mark from him at this point

I don’t imagine him being into quickies (unless he was absolutely throbbing and thirsting for you) this man would take his time. Setting the pace all during the day teasing you

He loved nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses below your ear and whispering the filthiest things to get you flustered

“You look so good right now, I could take you right here.”

“I can’t wait to get you home and be deep inside you later, doll.” He would murmur, his hand squeezing your hip pulling you back into him feeling his already hardening length pressing in the soft flesh of your ass

Then when it finally happened, he goes at a nearly agonizing pace—he wanted to worship you. He didn’t like to fuck, he liked to make love.

intense and passionate, hips slowly rolling into you up til you were full of him. And he kept hitting that spot that made your eyes see stars and lulled to the back of your head.

He was not shy about how he felt, always moaning and praising you, but wasn’t too loud. Vocal fry as he quietly moaned about how good you made him feel

“You’re squeezing me so well,” rasping out, trying to look at where your bodies connected, resisting the urge to close his eyes

“Fuck, you look so pretty under me.”

He’s 100% a morning sex person

Not even letting either of you have a chance to get out of bed, one hand slipping down your front rubbing you softly while the other gripped your throat to turn your face so he could slowly kiss you—devouring your mouth with his—all in a blissed out half sleep stupor

Hehe, I woke up from my nap and chose violence horniness, sorry. Anyways thanks for the support and all the love on these 🫶🏻✨

[lvlyghost]

I love your stories so much I can't 😫😍😍❤️

Could you maybe write a angst to fluff ghost x reader story where the reader gets injured badly while ghost is on her side the whole time in the hospital while she is unconscious and he's having breakdowns and anxiety and all really angsty stuff and when she wakes up she comforts him and all is fluffy and maybe a bit smutty 🤭

No More Stars Left to Count

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Few things made Simon break down. Almost losing his girl takes a toll on him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

TW: Smut! MDNI! Angst, hurt, comfort. Injuries. Panic attacks. Grammar mistakes just the usual... Do not read if you're under 18.

A/N: I'm actually quite happy with this one🥹🩷 Enjoy Anon! This is my first time posting smut and in another language so sorry in advance if there are mistakes! Corrections are appreciated ✨🐝

Masterlist✨

Simon's head rests on his left hand, his eyes bore into your fragile body. Several machines are attached to you, helping you breathe, pumping meds into your system. He doesn't deserve you by any means. He doesn't deserve your trust, your laughter, your body.

All he can think about— as his brown orbs can't find the strength to look away— is how miserably he had failed to protect his team. To protect you. It's been twelve days and you still don't show any signs of waking up; it wasn't abnormal for you to not wake up. The damage inflicted to your body had been great. Simon thought for a painful moment he had lost you for good. The woman he cared for. The woman he utterly loved.

He swallows hard.

There aren't many things that'd scare him. He's simply seen too much. But this? Was this truly his destiny? To lose everyone he loved? His family and now you?

He inhales sharply, his free hands traces your inert hand, tracing soft patterns on your pale skin littered with cuts and bruises. That very hand he adores to hold when you were together. He blinks, memories from your last night together flooding his brain as he sinks further down the chair, adjusting the hoodie over his head.

The night before leaving for the mission in Romania.

-

"No, wait look Simon! Give it to me!" You chuckle, under the covers, both of your bodies remain warm. It wasn't unusual that Simon couldn't sleep so he'd often come into your room and spend the night with you. "There." You pointed out. Your hand and his hand stretched out in front of you, slowly you touch his, spreading out your palms comparing hands. Your eyelashes flutter at the mere sight of his big calloused hand outsize yours, completely engulfing it. You splay out your fingers until they're intertwined.

His breath catches in his throat. He loved how small you were compared to him. He wanted to protect you from everything even from himself, but you had refused to leave him when he tried to push you away.

"Come here." He grabs your arm pining you down and under his gargantuan body. You squeal, laughing at the sudden change of position; Simon sets his body between your legs. Your arms rest on his sides, layers of muscle tensing under your touch. Tilting your head back, eyes meet the dark sky outside the window.

"Look at them." You mumble, Simon lays a kiss on your neck taking advantage. He loves the feeling of your steady pulse on his lips. "The stars are so bright tonight." He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to grip his blond locks.

There's a fire burning in your belly and the ache between your thighs when you feel the tent forming through his grey sweatpants.

"Need you, love." He grumbles. His hands undress your bottom half making you gasp.

"Simon..." soft pink lips kiss your body. Your chest, your stomach... until he's lost between your legs. Mouth lapping at your wetness. You squirm under his touch, it's intoxicating. It feels like you might combust. The fire running through your veins, the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh as you clench around nothing. Unable to resist it you grab him by the arms. "You know what I need." In the blink of an eye two bodies intertwined moving desperately chasing the sweetest end together. He murmurs soft encouraging words in your ear that sent shockwaves through your veins, Simon couldn't possibly be more deep inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you want to scream, nails digging on his back, surely leaving red marks that he would proudly show tomorrow.

The purple and orange that tinges the sky outside filters through the window, casting an ethereal display of colors around this room that hides away the few moments you get to spend with him as you finish together; feeling impossibly more in love with him.

"It's clearing already." You point out. Simon looks up from your eyes, albeit reluctant to miss the beautiful shade of your orbs. "No more stars left..."

He kisses your forehead, then bumps his nose against you before he finds your mouth.

"There'll be plenty more to count tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

But you're not counting them as he promised the night before. Instead he's shouting orders like an enraged man. Heart beating out of his chest, you were so close to the evac point with your squad. Five minutes ago he had squeezed your arm and kissed your temple before urging you to get in the land rover from the SAS. Only to watch it blow seconds later. His heart stopped and then the ringing in his eardrums.

It was an ambush.

And as the rest covered him he rushed to you.

The blood. Crimson blood all over the bodies. He knew what this meant.

"Sergeant!" He forces his body to move, dragging you by the straps of your combat vest to take cover behind one of the vehicles. He knows he shouldn't be moving you like that, but right now he can't think of anything else than getting you out of there... "Bloody fucking hell!" He roars.

What was that feeling, like his soul was being ripped apart...?

-

Releasing a shaky breath, Simon squeezes your hand once again careful not to hurt you. The IV in your hand too foreign. It's too much. The sight, the memories of the vehicle flying through the sky...

The pit in his stomach grows, a wave of nausea and uneasiness hitting him all of the sudden. Simon stands on wobbly legs, taking one last glance at you he steps out the ICU. Crouching down he yanks the balaclava from his face. Why was his chest so tight, and his vision filled with blackness? The incessant ring on his ears is real. Fucking real. It was supposed to be a nightmare... this thing pulling him down.

"Come back to me baby." He pleads in a hushed tone although he knows you can't hear him. Simon lifts his hands to find support on the wall in front of him. He breathes as much air as he can through his nose, tries to blink away the black dots.

"Lieutenant Riley?" A feminine voice wafts through the empty hallway reaching him. He holds out a shaky finger without even looking at her.

"Leave..." he warns.

"Sir? I...-" the nurse hesitates.

"Now!" He barks.

She scurries away but not before calling the doctors and the Captain to the med wing.

Simon stays there until his ragged breathing evens, he then goes back to your room, deep down he hopes—prays— that your eyes will open when you hear him. But you don't. He sits again on the couch where he's tried to sleep, tossing the mask away from him. His throat bobs, what's happening to him? It burns. The door creaks open revealing a concerned John who looks at him in disapproval.

"This isn't going to help anyone Simon." He scolds him.

"What do you want Price?"

"You need to sleep. And for... just for the love of God eat something son."

"Not until I know she'll be fine."

Price sighs closing the door behind him.

"She wouldn't want this." Even then, Price doesn't want to look at you. This had taken a toll on everyone. But Simon wasn't handling it well. Rubbing his eyes he scoffs. "Come on go get some rest I can stay."

"No." Both men stare at each other not wanting to back down. "I'm on leave you don't get to tell me what to do Price."

John crosses his arm.

"I'm worried Simon. I want her to be okay too. We all do."

Simon's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists. They don't really know. They don't know, can't comprehend the extent of his love for you.

"What if this was your girl? Would you leave her fucking side hm?"

A tense pause electrifies the air as the two glare at each other, oblivious to the other person whose eyes are tearing.

The beeping sound increases as your heart rate goes up. Two pair of eyes snap to the sound. Your hand tries to snatch the oxygen from your face, but Simon darts out with dread plastered all over his features. You faintly hear John calling the doctors.

"Easy, love. Easy..." he soothes you. Stopping your hands from moving. Your body is in too much pain, tears slip down your cheeks, once again Simon grits his teeth. If he could he'd take it all away. "Don't force yourself you're..." he trails off. "You're hurt."

It feels like you're body is being torn apart. The drugs are slowly leaving your system.

"What happened?" your croak out, throat dry and inflamed. He sits bringing the glass of water to your lips not before removing for a brief moment the oxygen mask. You take a small sip and thank him with a weak smile.

"Ambush." He explains. Hating that he can see the images all over again in the back of his mind. "Thought I lost you."

More tears well in your eyes, as weak as you feel you reach out your hands tracing his jawline and cheekbone. He closes his eyes, and finally breathes again, with you touching him he feels alive again. He wants nothing more than to go home with you.

"How many nights..."

"Twelve..."

The doctors rush in but before they drag him away you say:

"That's a lot of counting we've missed."

A press of his lips on your forehead, a silent promise to never let anything happen to you ever again. Even if it mean giving his own life for yours. He would do it any day. Better him than you.

"We've got the rest of our lives, love."

[louloulemons-posts]

Sleepy Snuggles

Eddie Munson X Reader

Summary : Just a drabble about Eddie coming home to his sleepy baby.

Word Count : 0.5k

Warnings : Pure fluff, mentions of a migraine, mentions pain medication, cuties in love, not proof read.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Trying to enter the trailer as quietly as possible, Eddie slid off his shoes. Wayne was working a night shift so he didn’t have to worry about waking him up, but there was you.

He knew what he’d walk into his room to find. You wrapped up in a blanket, one of his hellfire shirts on and little of anything else. He’d been out playing with his band tonight and had convinced you to stay home.

A migraine had been bothering you all day, you had tried to tell Eddie you were fine, but he said no, even saying he’d call off tonight’s show to make sure you stayed put. He smiled when he saw a note on the fridge door.

‘Hey Rockstar,

I know you smashed it tonight, like you always do. I made you dinner, make sure to eat before you head to bed, and have some water too.

I love you.’

Looking in the fridge he found some stew, he loved when you made it and you knew so. Even in the warmer months, he loved it, he then saw some bread rolls that he knew your mom had made.

He could never have imagined being loved the way he is by you, or your parents accepting him the way they did. He felt so lucky. He had two families that loved him so much.

Whilst he waited for the stew to be fully warm he drank a big glass of water, his throat feeling scratchy from all the singing he’d done. Grabbing a bowl and spoon he emptied the put and sat him self down.

Almost moaning when he ate the first bite of stew soaked bread. His body was tired and this was just what he needed, along with sleepy cuddles from his favourite person.

It didn’t take him too long to demolish the bowl of food, not realising how hungry he had been. Rising the bowl slightly, he clicked the light off and headed down to his room.

There you were, snuggled into the blankets, hair messy on the pillow. Eddie began to remove his jacket and rings from his fingers. Shimming out of his jeans, he did his best not to wake you up.

Climbing in gently, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You hummed slightly, mumbling a sleepy, “How was your show?”

“It was good, how’s your head feeling?” He asked, rubbing your bare tummy. “Less noisy.”

“I’m glad. Did you take meds?”

“Mhm, then I slept. Did you get your stew? Made some for Wayne too.”

You turned in his arms to face him, eyes opening slightly to find his face in the darkness. “I did, it was delicious as always. I’ve gotta thank your mom for the bread too.” You smiled softly, playing with the ends of his curls.

“You sleepy baby?” he asked.

“Mhm, you must be too. Being a rockstar can’t be easy Eds,” you mumbled, clearly becoming delirious in your tired state. “Well we can sleep in tomorrow, make sure you’re taken care of too.”

“Oooh Doctor Munson,” you huffed as laugh, which Eddie couldn’t help grinning at. “Sure babe, Doctor Munson. I’ll take care of you My Love.” He kissed your head and you snuggled closer to him, rubbing your face on his chest.

Drawing patterns on your back, Eddie soon heard your soft snores, “Goodnight Sweetheart, I love you.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[buckyshoneybunny]

Birthday Girl

Bucky Barnes + Curvy!Reader 

Summary- It's your birthday and Bucky wants to make it special 

W.C.- 1122 

Warnings- reader has adhd, fluff, metions to smut, 18+ please no minors, cursing. 

A/N- Today is my birthday!!! Sorry I have been inactive; I’ve been busy and sick and just no motivation. I do have a fall fic coming!! I realized a couple of days ago I could have done kinktober but oh well. I have so many ideas and wips but not enough time and motivation. Anyway I do hope you like it and be on the lookout, I’ll try to get more stories out. Until next time my loves! (Thank you for the love!!!)  

Masterlist 

Bucky’s heart fluttered as he watched you sleep, your hair glowing in the early morning sunlight streaming in, though knotted. He brushed some hair behind your ear, peppering your face with kisses and causing you to stir. 

Eyes still closed, you smiled and snuggled further into Bucky’s side, causing him to chuckle softly. 

“Happy birthday, doll,” he whispered into your hair. 

You hum and bury your face in his neck. “Thank you,” you mumble.  

“You’re welcome.”  He rubbed his flesh hand down your thigh, the metal one holding you close. You both laid there in the comfort of your shared bed, basking in the warmth for a little while longer.  

You savored the calm, relaxing mornings with Bucky whenever you could, holding on tightly and never wanting to let go. Being an Avenger, Bucky wasn’t always able to spend these few extra minutes with you in bed. So, when he did get a chance like this, he snatched it up and milked it for all its worth.  

He relished in the feeling of your fingers drawing mindless patterns on his bare chest, your warm breath against his neck, hearing your heartbeat and knowing you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. He felt forever grateful for you, and he was going to make sure you had a great birthday.  

A knock on the front door of your shared apartment popped the bubble of solitude you had going. 

“Who’s that?” You grumble into his neck, voice slightly muffled. 

“That would be breakfast,” he chuckles. 

“When the hell did you order breakfast?” 

“Before you woke up.” You hum and start to get up before he halts your movements. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he huffs with a smile. “I will get that and bring it to you. You keep your gorgeous ass in this bed.” He jumps out of bed before you can protest, but not before getting his legs tangled in the sheets and stumbling, causing you to giggle. He darts out the room, not bothering to put pants on, answering the door in his boxers.  

You quickly get up to pee and take your meds before he gets back. Just as you get settled back in bed, Bucky comes in with a try. On it was a neatly arranged breakfast from your favorite breakfast place down the road. You don’t eat there often, not wanting to spend a fortune for just two people, no matter how good said food was.  

You gasp softly and sit up so he can place the tray over your lap.  

“Oh Bucky,” you sigh. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for my birthday girl,” he sat down next to you on the bed and kissed your forehead. “Dig in, baby.”  

You start shoveling food in your mouth, moaning at the taste. You of course share your special breakfast after learning he hadn’t ordered anything for himself. He denied, of course. But after a few empty threats he agreed and started to eat.  

You were full by the time your ADHD meds kicked in. Bucky took the tray away and you curled back up, ready to go back asleep. 

“Oh no ma’am you don’t,” he said, pulling the blankets off you. “You need to get ready. Nat and Wanda will be here at nine, which is-” he checks the clock. “-In 40 minutes.” 

You huff and pout. “Can’t we just stay in bed?” You bite your lip and run your hands down his chest, the muscles tensing the lower you go. He stops your movements right as your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers.  

“As much fun as that sounds, you have a big day today, so up you go.” He effortlessly lifts you out of the bed. 

You laugh and start to get ready. You dress in the blue jeans that hug your hips and thighs just right and make Bucky’s knees weak. You put a white fluffy sweater and thick heeled black boots on. While you brush your teeth Bucky braids your hair, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he focuses.  

By the time you were ready the girls were out there waiting. With a kiss to your lips and his card in your hands because, it’s your birthday and I wanna treat you. You were off. You went shopping, got your hair and nails done, the works.  

You had an amazing day, the most fun in too long. By the time you were done you were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to take a hot bubble bath with Bucky and have a little fun in bed. But of course, he had other plans.  

As you, Natasha, and Wanda walked into yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, shopping bags in hand. It was abnormally dark, confused you turned on the lights and screamed, Natasha recording the whole thing. 

“SURPRISE!!” Everyone yelled and laughed at your reaction. All the Avengers were there, even Thor. Clint, his wife and kids, Sam and Steve, Tony and Pepper, even T’Challa and Shuri were there, everyone was there. 

But what caught your eye was the big, grinning goofball standing in the middle of it all holding a ‘happy birthday’ sign.  

“Did you do this?” You laugh. He nods and you hug him. He wraps his arm around you, the other holding the sign. “Thank you” 

“You’re welcome, doll,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. 

“Alright,” Tony claps his hands together. “Let's get this party started!” He pulls out two bottles of Whiskey.  

“Tony no-” 

“Tony yes!” He interrupts Steve. 

After a few glasses of Whiskey, many chimichangas, courtesy of Deadpool. A piece of cake, and many, many expensive and one-of-a-kind gifts later. You stood in the corner watching all of your friends family dance and party. You felt very grateful to be a part of this chaotic bunch of people.  

Bucky comes up next to you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist, tipsy from the Asgardian mead Thor and Loki had brought.  

“Hey doll,” he slurs. “Did you have a good birthday?”  

You nod. “I did, yes,” I smile. “Thank you, baby.”  

“The night’s not over yet,” he wiggles his eyebrows, a knowing smirk on his face.  

“James!” You scold playfully. “We have guests over!”  

“They won’t notice, come on.” He was already leading you to the bedroom. “Just 30 minutes.” 

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, not bothering to hide your smile. “But only 30 minutes.”  

“Scouts honor,” he grins.  

45 minutes later... 

“Where is Bucky and Y/N?” Steve asks.  

“Fucking like the rabbits they are,” Tony slurs, absolutely hammered. Steve chokes on his drink, turning red.  

People say that birthdays and holidays get less fun as you get older, but with Bucky, you couldn’t wait to see what he was gonna do next. 

[thewinter-eden]

psycho | han jisung (10/20)

10 : moments in the dark

Pairings: HAN JISUNG x OC | LEE MINHO x 2nd OC

Rating: mature

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and wattpad under alone-at-last.

Warnings: discussions of murder, torture, rape, pregnancy.

psycho masterlist

< last chapter | next chapter >

They sleep like that, huddled against the wall. It’s not so much sleeping as it is losing consciousness, and neither of them know how long it’s been since they landed in that position. Anna comes back to herself slowly, at the insistent pain of her ankle pounding against the walls of her mind, screaming for attention. It’s the first thing she knows when the blackness begins to fade away.

The next thing she notices is warm pressure against her right side, a rhythm of breathing moving against her arm and ribs. She’s curled into Han’s side, his chin resting atop her head, both of his arms still circling her waist.

When she takes in a deep, gasping breath at the nauseating agony in her leg, he squeezes a little tighter and brushes a thumb against the thin cloth of her nightgown, warm against her stomach.

He’s already awake.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers again, and she feels his head turn against hers.

All she can think about is the exploding sensation in her ankle that throbs with every beat of her pulse. Tears well in her eyes before she can even think about what time it is or if Cain is going to be back to punish them for sleeping in each others arms.

“I should have taken care of your leg last night, I’m so sorry.”

It’s a different apology than the ones last night, so she lifts her chin and reaches for his arm. “Can you help me?” Her voice is a pleading whisper. She doesn’t want him running around looking for his medical equipment if he’s too injured to do it, but she needs help and she knows it.

He shifts, sliding himself out from under her with slow movements. “Yeah,” He confirms softly. “Let’s get you over to the bed first.” He moves himself into a crouch, and she sees his face in the dim light. There’s a terrible, blistering split down the side of his face where he hit the wall, and his eye and cheek are puffy and swollen.

Dried blood cakes his skin around the abrasion and in a dripping pattern down his throat.

He meets her eyes questioningly. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”

She complies, gripping his shoulders as his hands come around her waist again and he pulls her up with him. Her bad ankle scrapes along the floor as they go, and she lets out an inadvertent yelp of pain that makes her dizzy.

Han doesn’t wince at the loud noise in his ear, but he does freeze, eyes flashing towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, barely hanging on to consciousness.

“Don’t be.” Han says back, and lifts her to the bed with shaky movements. When he puts her down, it’s more like they’re both falling and the mattress catches them. He’s not in much better shape than she is, except that none of his bones have been pulverized recently.

He helps her lay flat on the bed, adjusting the thin pillow beneath her head and pausing to push knotted strands of hair out of her face. His hand shakes against her temple, but he holds it there for a second. “I have to go see what time it is,” He tells her. “I’ll put breakfast on to heat up, and find my med kit, and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

There’s no reason for her to respond. She can’t stop him from leaving, she can’t ask him to hurry. He’ll go as quickly as he can, but he has all of the other girls, his little brother, and himself to take care of before he can circle back to her.

“Okay.” She nods weakly.

His thumb brushes a few stray tears from her skin and his expression crumbles. “I’m so sorry, Annie.”

Anna can’t eat with the girls in the community room for over a month. Even with Han’s support, putting any weight on her destroyed ankle is enough to make her pass out, or vomit, or both, so she stops trying. It’s better for healing anyway, he reassures her, when she tells him that she can’t try to walk on it again.

But, five weeks later, when the wrapping that Han does for her feels more like it’s supporting a strain than it is holding her bones together, she finally manages to give it another shot. It’s a shaky process, and she’s got most of her weight resting against Han, but they make it down the hall to the open arms of the other girls.

She takes her place between Kim and Ruby and practically beams when Han places the tray of hot broth and warm bread down before her, and she feels like there’s suddenly more to the world than being trapped in a dark room, spiraling into a pit of agony.

And then he brings Jackie out to breakfast.

The young girl is clinging to him, her arms tight around his neck, one of them lifted cautiously away from touching anything. The hand is heavily bandaged, and Anna sees a space between the middle and pinky finger, where a ring finger should be, replaced by a patch of fresh blood.

Jackie weeps into Han’s neck and he holds her against him, face scrunched with compassion.

“Cain took her finger last night,” Ruby explains, though she doesn’t need to.

Anna feels her own tears coming, the brightness of her triumph over her ankle dimming abruptly. She still has so much agony to look forward to, so much injury still in store for her. She’ll lose her ring finger, too, and four of her fingernails, ripped straight out from the beds. She be violated, like Cass, and marked, like Ruby.

The girls can only watch as Han does his best to comfort Jackie, lifting her into his arms and pulling her into his lap as he sits and tries to convince her to eat.

It’s been over five months since Anna woke up in the dungeon that they’ve grown used to, and there’s no end in sight.

The next few months pass with no sign of rescue or help from above. Even as she goes through the motions every day, Anna doesn’t know how they survive it all. How do six young girls survive sadistic torture sessions from a psychopath, with nothing but bread and broth twice a day, never seeing the sun, never knowing the seasons, barely having the strength to do anything more than lay in bed and heal?

She doesn’t know how she survives going from five months in captivity to eight months in captivity, but she knows her dependence on Han has grown dangerously. They’ve all grown to depend on him, for food and community and wound care, but she finds herself depending on him for more than that. She sinks into sleep at night, holding onto the sensation of his touch when he brings her back to her room after evening meal.

She breaks out of whatever feverish nightmare she’s been trapped in and waits hopefully for him to appear at her door with breakfast. She sits in Cain’s chair, crying under the path of his knife, and longs for the moment that she’ll sit in her room and let Han wrap clean bandages around her cuts.

Anna can’t imagine how the girls did it before he started bringing them together. How they could sit in their solitary rooms in the dark, hearing each other scream, never knowing when the next chair session would be, or when they would ever see another kind face again—what kind of husk of a person would she have turned into if she hadn’t had Han to see every day?

Just darkness, and misery, and Cain, and then darkness all over again?

She would have died long ago, she knows this for sure.

After the incident that resulted in the utter ruination of her left leg, it seems that Han’s dependence on her has grown as well. His gentle offerings of support take new forms in the months that follow. His hands that used to only help hold her weight and clean her wounds now leave warmth on her face, his palms cupping her cheeks and fingers brushing her skin with tenderness. Since the night that Cain happened upon them, he’s created a habit of greeting her with a burdened apology and a gentle caress to her cheek.

When she’s healed enough for her next chair session, and Cain gives her four matching vertical slashes down each forearm, Han sits with her as she cries, holding her limp hands in his. He has new scars on his own arms, punishment for caring too much for Cain’s prisoners, but he keeps his sleeves down so she can’t see them. He finishes bandaging her new cuts, heart squeezing as he sees the way some of them slash into the scars from her wrists, and presses his brow to hers.

It becomes a habit. Every night, before he leaves her to sleep, he sits on her bed and holds her hands for as long as her raw muscles can stand it, and leans against her forehead. She gets used to the way her eyelashes tangle with his fringe, the way his breath tickles her lips.

She wonders if the other girls share these moments with him, if she should stop her heart from fluttering the way that it does, but she doesn’t ask.

She just leans into the warmth of him, taking in the scent of him, and it’s a breath of fresh air and stale clothes that she’s come to call home.

Anna doesn’t grow any braver with him, still anguishing with anticipation of Cain coming around the corner again, spotting them again, punishing them again, but Han does. She’s terrified of his touch, terrified of what it would mean for both of them if they’re caught, but she welcomes it when he begins to make a routine of tucking her hair behind her ear.

It starts one day a few weeks after her leg starts to heal, and he pauses in helping her adjust the position of her ankle to reach up and push a ratty tangle of hair behind her ear, like he did the morning after it happened. Her cheeks flushed and he went back to positioning her leg like nothing happened, but it’s like he unlocked some natural reflex that just keeps presenting itself.

They’d be mid conversation and then his finger tips would be tickling her ear as he fixes her hair. Or they’d be sitting at night, heads bent together, and his entire hand would tangle in the strands that fall around her face, scraping it all back and holding it against her neck. One night, she asks him if he’s implying she should cut it—a question in jest, as she has no means to cut it—and he slips his fingers into her hair once more and pushes it back.

“I just like to see your eyes,” He explains in a shy whisper, and she doesn’t ask again.

She may not be brave enough yet to smooth her fingers over his face the way she wants to, or to feel the way the soft thickness of his hair curls around his neck and over his forehead, but she does reach for his hand whenever she can. Sometimes it’s because it all hurts so much that she needs him as close as possible, to feel warmth and kindness replace the searing pain of captivity, and sometimes it’s because he looks so small—his hands so thin and pale, his shoulders so sharp beneath the thin threads of his sweater, his bruises and scars so prominent against the deathly white of his skin—that she has to grab his hand before he fades away right in front of her.

He never refuses her. He never refuses any of them.

Anna takes his hand and squeezes, and he squeezes back, and neither of them mention how pitiful their grip strength is.

She does eventually find it within herself to reach for him the way he reaches for her, and when she does he lets out a breath like he’s been waiting for her touch for years.

It’s a wretched thing, to seek comfort from another who needs it just as much. To see the wounds that mar his skin and still ask him to treat her own seems like a punishment in itself, but he never fails to extend a hand of help.

His role as captor, healer and caretaker becomes infinitely more as time goes on. He prepares their food and cleans their wounds because it earns him his life, and that of his little brother.

But he brings the prisoners together and dashes out their loneliness by facilitating a system of support and strength because he has just enough freedom to vanquish his own loneliness.

He treats their wounds with gentle hands and kind words because he has enough wounds of his own to know where true comfort lies.

So, when Anna learns that he allows them to lean on him because he needs human touch just as much as they do, she understands the dynamics she saw when she first found herself in that lower room. The way the battered girls respected his voice without question, their hands brushing his in companionship as they voluntarily returned to their prisons. The way they took his name and called him Hannie, as though he were broken and bleeding among them and not a young man moving about their dungeon at will.

‘You don’t know what he’s been through,’ they had told her when she’d greeted him with contempt.

She didn’t know then, but she sees it now. He doesn’t have the matching system of scars that the girls have, with the exception of a few, but rather the random and aggressive marks of punishment that Cain withholds from his subjects but keeps in reserve for his servant.

Her chair session with Cain after that night had been in accordance with his plan, if on an accelerated timeline. He’d kept to his system and taken the integrity of her left ankle, as he had done with the others.

But Han he threw against the wall. Han he beat with his hands in a fit of rage. Han he slashed and cut with reckless abandon, without any system or pattern.

Anna sees it, finally, the bars of Han’s cage.

So, when he enters her room one morning around the six month mark, hobbling stiffly as though his right leg can’t properly hold his weight, Anna rises from her bed to greet him before he has a chance to reach for her. She has the breakfast tray out of his hands in a second, putting her shoulder to his side and helping him to her bed where she makes him sit.

He falls limply to the mattress and his right leg skids out from under him, a rush of air crashing from his lungs.

Anna puts the tray down at the end of the bed and sits next to him, taking in the deathly pallor of his cheeks, the sweat beading down his temples, the shuddering rasp of his breath, and moves without fear. She brushes his unruly hair back so she can see his eyes sliding up to meet hers, glassy and unfocused.

“What happened?” She demands, feeling his chin land in her palm weightily.

“Cain came back last night,” He says through a cough, and rubs a shaky hand over his leg. Back from where, they couldn’t know, but his routine absences and unannounced returns tend to define the course of their day to day.

“What did he do to your leg?” She suspects something’s broken, or at least very badly bruised, based on the way he looks like he’s barely hanging onto consciousness.

“Stepped on it.” Han replies, trying to pull it back under himself with a wince. “A couple of times.”

Anna feels the rage flood her bloodstream and reaches to tug up the cuff of his pants and see, but he stops her with a hand wrapped around her wrist.

“I’ve already wrapped it up,” His grip is weaker than usual. “It’s okay.”

She disagrees. “You can’t be walking on it like this.”

He gestures waveringly to the tray of food that she hasn’t even looked at yet. “I have to bring you food. And I have to help Jo with her arm. He broke it last night. And then I have to help Jeongin—he’s not eating his meals anymore. I have to get him to eat.”

Anna can see the panic settling in, mixing dangerously with the crippling pain that has him pulling shallow breaths. She can’t heal his likely fractured leg, but she can hold him in her arms, so she does. He leans into her neck and curls his fingers around the thin cloth of her nightgown, sagging weakly into her embrace. She pushes her fingers through his hair, like he does for her, and she doesn’t stop.

After that, they’re always reaching for each other. She knows he does it with the others, too; she watches him cradle Jackie’s face in his hands when the younger girl suffers a broken hip, whispering gentle reassurances until she can swallow her sobs and eat her breakfast; she sees him sit next to a whimpering Jo and hold her hand as she struggles to keep her bread in her stomach when the pain from her arm gets to be too much; she sees him loop an arm around Cass’s waist and help her stand and try to work some strength back into her legs.

But it doesn’t matter how much he sees to the other girls, because when he’s standing in front of her, pressing his palms to her cheeks, touching his brow to hers until their eyelashes brush together, all she cares about is the breath they share.

When the cuts on her arms fester and swell, and he has to clean them more intensely, he takes the time to whisper soft apologies and wipe her tears. When he finds her after Cain leaves for an undetermined amount of time, packing a bag and leaving a week’s worth of food supplies, Han sits next to her in bed and lets her trembling fingertips trace the ghostly white scars that drip from his clavicle, mirroring hers.

She gets lost in the stories they tell, falling back into her mind as she imagines him tied to the same chair they all get tied to, writhing under the knife that rent the tears, and is only pulled out of her reverie by his thumb smoothing over her eyebrow. “He didn’t find me very entertaining,” He says.

A second of confusion passes between them before she realizes that they’re the only scars that she has a matching set of. “But he kept you anyway.”

Han draws a line through her other eyebrow. “If he didn’t, the experiments with the rest of you wouldn’t last very long.” His eyes trace the dozens of places on her body that he’s patched and mended so that his captor can cut again.

“You never tried to escape?” She knows the question is pointless. She knows he wouldn’t leave without his little brother, but she still can’t help but wonder if he ever tried to fight it.

And, to her surprise, Han nods. “In the early days, before Jeongin was so bad off. I tried to get us out, just the two of us. We were caught, obviously, and Jeongin was punished. It was my fault, my idea, my plan to leave, but he couldn’t hurt me that badly or I’d be useless to him.” His dark eyes fall into hers and she feels like she’s drowning in the emptiness she finds. “Everything I do is reflected on him. I can’t make a single mistake that he doesn’t pay for.”

She realizes that Jeongin must have suffered with the rest of them those months ago, when Cain caught them. Guilt stuffs her chest and she blinks back tears. “I’m sorry.”

It terrifies her to even think of her next question, but the words fall from her lips before she realizes it. “And if he doesn’t make it? Will you try again?”

Han’s gaze lifts from hers, but his hands close around her fingers. His throat bobs as he swallows dryly, and his head tilts back. “If—when he’s gone,” His eyes flood. “I’ll do everything I can to free everyone.”

He doesn’t have to say ‘or die trying’, but it floats in the silence between them, as does the recognition of the likelihood that he won’t be successful.

She feels his arms come around her and she’s being pulled closer into his warmth, and he breathes against her throat. “I’ll free us if I can, Annie.”

She loses the four fingernails, and that night Han lays in bed beside her like he did the night she cut herself and lets her weep into his dirty sweater until the darkness closes in.

In the days that follow, he helps her tear her bread into bite size pieces, and he helps her sponge bathe with the bucket of warm soapy water that he’s allowed to bring to each of them once a week. She’s used to his eyes on the intimate parts of her, a reality that fell into place from the very first days of her captivity, put every time he peels the filthy nightgown away to wipe grime from her skin, she sees her reflection in the water and cringes.

She’s lost so much weight since she first arrived, losing the gentle slopes of her shoulders and hips, losing the smooth lines from her chest to her thighs. The girl who stares back at her is all bones, sharp cheeks and jutting ribs, with dark circles under her eyes and knotted, lifeless hair hanging down her back.

There used to be beauty in her mirror—maybe not to extravagance, but at least a visage pleasing to look at, and now there is barely a remnant of her former self.

Han never makes any comment. He is the same, as are the rest of the girls. All of them, gaunt and hollow creatures, except for Ruby, whose nightgown has begun to cling to a new fullness of her midsection. Anna knows she is no more hideous than the rest of them, but when she looks at Han and finds beauty there, she wishes he could see the same when he looks at her.

At eight months, after Cain puts a pair of clippers to her hand and drops her ring finger into a little pail, Anna lets Han pull her onto her own mattress and pull the blanket over both of them, safe in another of Cain’s sudden departures, and lulls her to sleep with his crooning voice in her ear.

pov : minho

Cass: Have you flunked out of college yet?

Minho: You have so little faith in me?

Cass: I merely wonder how a student can possibly succeed academically when he spends all his time with the sewer rats.

Minho: I’m smarter than you give me credit for. And don’t be so hard on yourself.

Cass: Nobody but us rats down here. Ask anyone.

Her note stings, but not the way it used to. Instead of striking him with the weight of guilt and personal accountability, it strikes him like a comet of pure rage.

Ask anybody.

How much did it matter to six tortured girls and their families that Cain Roberts’ syndicate is overturned if it’s at the cost of their daughters’ lives?

Cass: Do you realize how pathetic it is that I’ve never been to see Palouse Falls?

Minho: You mean that wimpy waterfall an hour from here?

Cass: So you’ve seen it?

Minho: Of course I have, it’s only an hour from here.

Cass: You’re really making me feel so much better.

He makes a note to take her to Palouse Falls as soon as he gets her out.

Minho: Your handwriting is shaky today. Are you badly hurt?

Cass: My arm is kind of spasming. It’s an old injury—a poorly healed break from the early days.

Minho: It hasn’t healed yet?

Cass: I think it’s healed as much as it’s going to. Just because he gives us time to recover doesn’t mean it’s not irreparable damage.

He’s not convinced that any of her wounds will ever truly heal.

Cass: Do the stars still shine out there?

Minho: Of course they do.

Cass: I hope they’re the first things I see.

Minho: I’ll do my best to rescue you at night.

It takes so long for her to write back that he starts to wonder if he misunderstood her.

Cass: Promise me you won’t be there when they rescue us.

Minho: Why the hell would I promise you that?

Cass: Because I’ve had nothing but bucket baths for a year, my hair stylist won’t do a “house call” (for some reason), and I live under a sewer.

Minho: You want me to stay home because you’ll be dirty?

Cass: Filthy. Disgusting. Rancid. And ghastly, too. Do you mind if we schedule our meeting a few months out so I can get my diet in order and grow some healthy hair?

Minho: This is the most ridiculous waste of paper.

Cass: On top of everything else that’s happened to me, I don’t think I can live with knowing your first impression of me is me like this.

Minho: Learn to live with it, because I’m definitely going to be there.

Cass: For the love of god, stop dropping walnuts on me.

Minho: You need the nutrients.

Cass: I will come up there and smack you.

Minho: I wish you would.

Minho: Tell me how you’re doing.

Cass: I’m alive.

Minho: The rundown, please.

Cass: I’m not sleeping well, keep having bad dreams. My hip aches like an old woman’s, and I think I may have refractured it in a fall yesterday. I can’t move without reopening my latest set of cuts, and I’m becoming numb to routine violation.

Minho: On a scale of one to ten, how long should I make his slow and painful death?

Cass: Seven?

Minho: Fifty years—got it.

Cass: Frightened by how long option ten must be.

Minho: Don’t worry about it, but you are allowed to change your answer at any point.

Cass: I’ve forgotten what pot roast tastes like.

Minho: Is that your favorite?

Cass: It was, before I was introduced to the wonders of bread and broth twice a day for a year.

Minho: I’m gonna be sick.

Cass: You’re not very good at comforting those less fortunate than yourself, are you?

Minho: I’m commiserating because I care about you.

Cass: I know.

He makes another mental note to make sure she has all the pot roast she can stomach when she’s free.

Minho: Tell me how you’re doing.

Cass, are you awake?

Tug if you can’t talk.

Cass?

Cass, I saw your fingerprint on my last note. Talk to me, what’s wrong?

Tug the string if someone’s there.

I’m worried now, Cass, please say something.

Whatever it is, I’m here. I care about you, I’m here. I’ll always be here.

Tug the string if you’re too hurt/weak to write.

Nothing.

Tug the string if it’s too dark or something to write.

Nothing.

Tug if you want me to go away?

Nothing.

Tug if you’re alive and don’t want me to blow up the entire sewer line because some asshole killed my girl.

After the longest, most painful silence the string pulls weakly at his grip and he feels like falling to his knees. The tears that have been gathering in his lower lashes pour down his cheeks like a dam lifted.

He’d thought she was dying.

Hell, he’d thought she was gone.

Minho: I’m here, Cass. I’m right here.

Cass: I want to meet you.

Minho: We’re literally talking to each other.

Cass: You know what I mean. Before I die, I want to meet you.

Minho: You’re going to. Death is nowhere close to factoring into this equation.

Cass: I know you’ve seen my face on those stupid missing persons posters, but all I know about you is that you have dark features and you’re way out of my league.

Minho: Why on earth would you think that?

Cass: Because I’m a human train wreck and you haven’t absorbed/consumed all of your muscle mass?

Minho: Present conditions aside, the girl in that poster could spit on my shoes and I’d thank her for it.

Cass: You’re full of shit.

Minho: Bet I made you smile though.

Cass: Give me a picture of you and I’ll decide if you’re worth my spitting on your shoes.

Minho: If your reaction to seeing my picture is deciding to spit on me, I think we’re gonna have to rethink some things.

Cass: All this talk of spitting is starting to make me vaguely uncomfortable.

Minho: You’re the one who’s spitting on my shoes.

Cass: Stop making me read the word spitting.

Cass: What the hell.

Minho: What’s wrong?

Cass: This is you?

Minho: No, I cut that out of a Calvin Klein ad.

Cass: Shut the hell up, Minho, this is what you look like?

Minho: That’s what I looked like four months ago, but yeah. It was taken for my mom’s Christmas photos.

Cass: I can’t talk to you anymore.

Minho: Why not??

Cass: I was right. I was so right. You are so out of my league.

Minho: I told you, I’m a work of art.

Cass: I can hear you laughing, you ass. Shut up and go away.

Minho: Never.

Cass: Would you just go marry a model and have two perfect brat children already? I feel like a criminal keeping you away from the rest of the world.

Minho: You’re being ridiculous.

Cass: The girl in my missing person poster would have taken one look at you and walked right into a tree.

Minho: Graceful.

Cass: I’m serious, Minho, go make movies or something. Get out of the damn sewer.

Minho: I’m not going anywhere. Stop drooling over my face and get some sleep.

Cass: I think I’m in love with you.

Minho: You’re in love with a Calvin Klein model.

Cass: There’s literally a stocking in the background with your name on it.

Minho: So you only love me for my body?

Cass: It’s such a good body.

Minho: You are unbelievable.

Cass: Can I keep the picture?

Minho: I’m so gonna regret this.

Minho: Your writing is getting less and less decipherable by the word. Please get some sleep and I’ll bring some food by.

Cass: I’m fine, Minho.

Minho: You literally just misspelled my name.

Cass: I don’t want to go to sleep.

Minho: You’re making Cain’s job easier by denying yourself your basic needs.

Cass: Do you need to leave?

Minho: I’m not trying to get rid of you, Cass, I’m trying to keep you alive. You should listen to your body.

Cass: If I sleep, I’ll just dream of him.

Minho: Dream of me instead.

Cass: You’re a flirty little shit.

Minho: You’re keeping yourself awake for days on end to avoid nightmares—I think your perception is off.

Cass: In my defense, the nightmares suck.

Minho: I know they do.

Cass: I can’t bear to sleep.

Minho: I need you to.

Cass: You need me to endure intense psychological trauma just so I’ll stop hallucinating that you’re flirting with me?

Minho: I need you to survive until I find you.

Cass: Will you flirt with me if I do?

Minho: Your mental state is actually concerning me.

Cass: Sweet talker.

Minho: Cass, please.

Minho: Tell me how you’re doing.

Tug once if you can’t talk and twice if you’re too hurt/weak to write.

Cass, I get it if you don’t want to talk, but tell me that. I hate it when you do this.

Cass?

You should know, if I ever convince myself that you’re dead, I’m stealing munitions from the police and literally blowing up this entire tunnel.

Cass, it’s been an hour. Give me any sign of life, please.

An eternity passes.

Cass: I’m alive.

Minho: There’s blood on the note. What happened? Are you okay? Why hasn’t Han treated you yet?

Cass: There’s not much he can do. I’m only dying on the inside.

Minho: I’d believe you if there wasn’t blood on that note, too. Tell me, Cass.

Please tell me.

Another eternity.

Cass: He bit me.

Minho: He fucking what?

Cass: Knives and pokers and wrenches, you take in stride, but you draw the line at biting?

Minho: I have taken none of this in stride, and I want to know why he’s suddenly decided to bite your fucking hand.

Cass: He bites during molestation.

Minho? Your note didn’t say anything? Did you drop it?

Minho: I’ll kill him, Cass. I’ll kill him for what he does to you.

Cass: I don’t want to talk about this.

Minho: I’m gonna get you out of there. You’re gonna have everything you’ve ever wanted.

Cass: All of that is gone, Minho. No one can give back what he’s taken.

Minho: I’ll make him suffer.

Minho: Tell me how you’re doing.

Cass: Ruby’s pregnant.

Minho: Shit.

Minho: Tell me how you’re doing.

Cass: Hi, Minho.

Minho: Tell me, Cass.

Cass: Why do you always want to know?

Minho: Because I care about you.

Cass: Don’t.

Minho: Why? Because I’ve lost to some competition? Have you eloped with Han?

Cass: Don’t be absurd.

Minho: I mean, he sounds like a nice guy, and there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of trauma bonding.

Cass: You jealous?

Minho: Not when I know it’s my photo you sleep with.

Cass: Good, because if anyone’s eloping with Hannie, it’s Anna.

Minho: For real?

Cass: I’ve never seen someone look at an unwashed, emaciated, broken man like he painted every star in the sky like she does, so, I’d say so, yes.

Minho: That’s nauseating.

Cass: You’re just an anti-romantic.

Minho: What are we, pen pals?

Cass: What are you saying?

Minho: I was asking you how you’re doing today.

Cass: Looked more like you were suggesting something.

Minho: Are you hallucinating flirtations again?

Cass: Buzz off, Minho.

Minho: No.

Cass: I’m not feeling well. Don’t think we should write.

Minho: Cold? Flu? Infection?

Cass: Flu-ish. It’s been going around.

Minho: I’ll be right back with meds and vitamins. Enough for everyone.

Cass: You’re a godsend, Minho.

Cass: How do you make your hair do that thing?

Minho: Are you staring at my picture again?

Cass: It’s so fluffy and thick. If you tell me it’s 100% genetic, I’ll kill you.

Minho: It’s genetic.

Cass: Die slowly.

Minho: And pomade.

Cass: Thank god.

Minho: So, you like my hair?

Cass: Would you stop saying you care about me.

Minho: No? Why??

Cass: Forget I said anything. How do you erase permanent ink?

Minho: Cass?

Cass: Tell me what the sky looks like today.

Minho: Cass.

Cass: Please.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

favouritism

summer adventures and simping

mark estapa x f!reader social media au

warning: swearing, sexual innuendos if you squint

liked by _maggiepilibosian, nolan_moyle and 1,294 others

ynofficial: my proud mother photo dump that didn't make the umich cut

psa: i tried to maintain a 'no bias' policy

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dylanduke25: I'M NOT IN THIS WHYYYYYYY 😭😭😭

ynofficial: i'm gonna give you a whole post i promise duker

dylanduke25: wait...are you gonna post THE photos???????

ynofficial: 🤫🤫

lhughes_06: dylanduke25 you're literally in two photos

dylanduke25: oh silly me i didn't recognise myself

nolan_moyle: me and duker are the favourites in this!!!!!

ynofficial: why is always a question of my favouritism with you guys

markestapa: you know why 😏

ynofficial: ok mr only in this once 😐

adamfantilli: i look like a child

ynofficial: you were 17 at the time of the photo so you kind of were...

luca.fantilli: FACTS

nblanks98: i'm the first one and i have a whole photo to myself so i'm obviously the favourite

markestapa: no

nblanks98: yes

markestapa: no

dylanduke25: i'm the favourite actually, i'm gonna have my own post

nolan_moyle: dylanduke25 we have equal numbers of posts my dude

dylanduke25: nolan_moyle but i'm gonna have a whole post

markestapa: but i'm still the favourite

dylanduke25: YOU WISH

markestapa: you get a whole post? watch the summer posts start coming in and then we'll see who's the favourite 😜😜

ynofficial: i never thought i'd say this but please don't fight over who is my favourite. my favourite is _maggiepilibosian obviously

_maggiepilibosian: i'm just THAT girl 💁‍♀️💁‍♀️

ynofficial: you absolutely are 😘

markestapa: 😦

edwards.73: ynofficial i do have to say that i am MORTIFIED by me in these

kienandraper: it's the horrific dad pose isn't it

edwards.73: YES!! IT IS!!! I AM APPALLED

markestapa: dw you're still cute

edwards.73: tell me something i don't know, estapa, and then get back to me

markestapa: fuck me what crawled up your ass and died this morning

edwards.73: regret. that's what.

ynofficial: are you hungover?

edwards.73: yes

ynofficial: whatever will you do?

edwards.73: please can you get me a glass of oj

ynofficial: i'm sending mark up i'm trying to find dylanduke25's photos

lhughes_06: and i'm not in this because??? 🤨

ynofficial: i'm saving your photos for the summer for clout

lhughes_06: smart 🙌

nblanks98: i just reread the caption and are you implying that you're proud of me for cooking two separate dishes????

ynofficial: yes. you have yet to send me a photo of your special pasta bake that looks edible.

nblanks98: IT IS EDIBLE

nolan_moyle: it's really not

liked by tyler_duke, graciebrns and 1,913 others

ynofficial: title-weforgotwehadtohandinanassignmentandthenightbeforewegothammeredanddylanrangmeatfourinthemorningpanickingsowedidthisonthewaytosaidclassandwewerebothviolentlyhungoverandfunfactiactuallypukednexttothetreedylanisleantagainst

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dylanduke25: the only thing i'd change about that caption is that we both only got an hour of sleep before i rang up and didn't manage to sleep the alcohol out of our systems so technically we were still drunk

ynofficial: i'm not gonna lie i forgot about that i think i blacked out

markestapa: i can never forget about that, it was the first time i had to wash your hair in nolan's sink because you had sick everywhere

nolan_moyle: the FIRST? there were more times?????

ynofficial: because the second time was edwards.73

edwards.73: i don't remember that

nolan_moyle: ok i'm sensing a pattern here

nolan_moyle: THIS HAPPENED DURING THE SEASON???

rutgermcgroarty: remember that time eddy came to practice and he had to be dressed by me, decked it in the tunnel, fell on the ice and bust his nose on his hockey stick and therefore had to be excused from practice and escorted to the med centre? it was then

nolan_moyle: that explains a lot actually

lhughes_06: my my my dylanduke25 you're looking absolutely radiant i just want to pinch your cheeks

dylanduke25: the invitation is always open 😘😘

kienandraper: that's a lot to unpack there

_maggiepilibosian: you can say that again

ynofficial: yeah it wasn't our brightest moment

nblanks98: aren't you advertising underage drinking in the comments?

ynofficial: um

this post has been deleted

liked by lhughes_06, kennedyclairewalsh and 2,007 others

ynofficial: IT'S OFFICIALLY SUMMER AND I LOVE (1) MARK ESTAPA

view all comments

markestapa: first

edwards.73: omg i love mark too

_maggiepilibosian: aaaaand the favouritism begins!!!

ynofficial: FINALLY

markestapa: i knew i was the favourite dylanduke25 nolan_moyle are you seeing this

dylanduke25: you're her favourite person, not hockey player

nolan_moyle: you're also not her favourite captain

markestapa: you're the only captain??

nolan_moyle: yeah that's the point

lhughes_06: an adorable, sweet-cheeked, fluffy muffin...then there's mark

markestapa: kindness is free 😞 it costs nothing 😞

ynofficial: i can't tell if you're talking about me or the dog

lhughes_06: 🤷🤷

luca.fantilli: at no point camping should anyone ever make that face in the first picture so wtf happened there

ynofficial: i tripped over a log and fell onto a rock and smashed my knee and mark took photos to document the moment

luca.fantilli: r u ok?

markestapa: i patched her up sir 🫡

nblanks98: again with the alcohol??

ynofficial: fun fact! i'm actually 21, i took a gap year so technically i'm a year older than my year group!!!!!

nblanks98: i missed your birthday?

ynofficial: yes but it's ok i forgive you

dylanduke25: mark looks so cute

ynofficial: doesn't he??????? he's just so AHBIGFKJA

dylanduke25: YES HE IS

liked by adamfantilli, jacob_truscott20 and 1,187 others

ynofficial: BLANKS CAN THROW SURPRISE BIRTHDAY BASHES EVERYBODY SCREAM ITTTTTT

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lhughes_06: ITTTTTT

ynofficial: fuck you

dylanduke25: and my invitation was lost was it?

ynofficial: if anybody has any queries, i would like to direct their attention to nblanks98 because he was the one who threw the party and i had zero clue or knowledge to its existence prior to said party

edwards.73: fresh 🥶🥶

rutgermcgroarty: seeing as though mark is at the front in the first photo of clear faces i conclude that he is the favourite

ynofficial: tis true young padawan

dylanduke25: why does everyone look bitable in this i just want to take a chomp out of them why do i want to do that

nolan_moyle: raw sex appeal

ynofficial: ^^

lhughes_06: that's a lot of half-naked people

ynofficial: just the way i like it

lhughes_06: say that again 🤨

ynofficial: i mean...not like that

nblanks98: i thinyk ive sed tbis before but i hope yiou bad a great birthfay and im sorry i missed it

ynofficial: if you apologise one more time i'm gonna hurl

nblanks98: please ont talk abut viut

ynofficial: idk what you're trying to say there

liked by lauren.rodolitz, edwards.73 and 1,196 others

ynofficial: the tri-ality of ma(rk estapa)n

view all comments

markestapa: first

markestapa: also: the last photo????

ynofficial: but you look so cute 😔

markestapa: you ALWAYS say that

ynofficial: because you ALWAYS look so cute

adamfantilli: i don't think that's how those bracket things work and i don't think tri-ality is a word

ynofficial: i'm making them make sense

adamfantilli: fair dos

dylanduke25: THE FIRST PHOTO THE SECOND PHOTO AHHHHH

dylanduke25: mark is so bf coded in those and it makes my heart go fast

ynofficial: ME TOOOOOO

edwards.73: PUT SOME CLOTHES ON

markestapa: tbh most of the time i wish we were wearing less iykwim 😉

edwards.73: you're disgustingly horny (fr the photo is so adorable)

nolan_moyle: I WANT WHAT YOU HAVE

ynofficial: nblanks98

nblanks98: that can be arranged nolan_moyle ☝️

markestapa: this is literally the second post from week 1 that has been dedicated to me and to me only dylanduke25 i'm so obviously the favourite

dylanduke25: WE ALREADY ESTABLISHED THAT OF COURSE YOU'RE HER FAVOURITE BECAUSE YOU'RE HER BOYFRIEND!!! nevertheless i am her favourite bestie

kienandraper: i beg to fucking differ i think i take that spot

ynofficial: kienandraper is to me what markestapa is to _maggiepilibosian so that is absolutely correct kienandraper

dylanduke25: not only is that some weird couply shit, but i'm kind of offended

ynofficial: it doesn't mean to say that you're not one of my favourite people though duker, bc you are, i just happen to have a lot of favourite people

kienandraper: actually it's kind of the opposite of weird coupley shit because i knew y/n from class and she then met maggie through me who introduced her to the media side of the team and then y/n met mark

lhughes_06: cute

liked by ynofficial, _maggiepilibosian and 13,186 others

markestapa: if you would have told #1 and #2 mark that he ACTUALLY had a shot with the pretty girl with the camera, he would have been flabbergasted

view all comments

edwards.73: SIMP

markestapa: HAVE YOU SEEN HER THOUGH

edwards.73: you don't want me to answer that

markestapa: please don't

dylanduke25: baby mark was adorable what happened? 😔

markestapa: hEY

ynofficial: he's STILL adorable wtf

lhughes_04: the girlies in his comments agree

liked by ynofficial

ynofficial: you thought you didn't have a chance? bro bffr

markestapa: dude 🤨

ynofficial: *deep inhale to maintain sanity* you were (+ still are) the most KJAGSF boy in the world like you just make me hajshfaj

ynofficial: i'm just in disbelief that's all

nolan_moyle: you guys are my couple goals

nolan_moyle: also THE OCEAN PHOTO??? 😭

kienandraper: y/n likes shiny things...but she'd...

ynofficial: damn right i do drapernator...

edwards.73: i'm confused

markestapa: you're confused? i'm fucking confused bro

_maggiepilibosian: (taylor swift)(paper rings)(lover album)(2019)(pastel pink/blue/purple/yellow)

dylanduke25: what is that wet patch on your hoodie markestapa? it's sus

markestapa: water. after YOU threw it at me.

dylanduke25: but that smile on your face, huh? what about that

markestapa: all ynofficial

ynofficial: *dies*

adamfantilli: confirmed that ynofficial is indeed markestapa's favourite

liked by markestapa

liked by mackie.samo, luca.fantilli and 1,810 others

ynofficial: pathetic lack of debate necessary bc this one (markestapa for those unaware) is my favourite (and by pathetic lack i mean you guys were really delulu to think you were my favourite (i'm sorry if this is mean))

view all comments

markestapa: i fucking knew it

markestapa: you have a crush on me don't you?

ynofficial: whatever gave it away? 🤔

markestapa: OMG YOU LOOOOOVE MEEE

edwards.73: on a scale of 1-10 how hammered is he rn

ynofficial: solid 8 bc he's in his clingy phase

edwards.73: so glad you're the one dealing with that this time 🤮

edwards.73: also for the caption - girl, we been knew 🙄

dylanduke25: missy what do you mean I'M not the favourite????

ynofficial: you're not my #1 boo

dylanduke25: am i #2 boo?

kienandraper: that's me

dylanduke25: #3? 😢

ynofficial: tied with nolan_moyle, edwards.73 and nblanks98 then yes 😁

dylanduke25: ynofficial it's not ok to have that many favourites in your top 3

ynofficial: my favourites = my rules

ynofficial: or you can be #4?

dylanduke25: nvm 👍👍 i can be 3 👍👍

ynofficial: good boy 👍👍👍

markestapa: 😏😏

lhughes_06: PHONE OFF NOW ynofficial HELP NO STOP IT

nolan_moyle: i am honoured, truly 🙏🙏

nblanks98: as am i 🙏🙏

ynofficial: you're welcome 🙏🙏

lhughes_06: do i mean nothing

ynofficial: no (i don't actually have favourites apart from m and k but the rest are fragile and ik you can handle it) (still like you a lot though)

lhughes_06: it's because i'm devil scum isn't it (like you a lot too (for drunk mark: PLATONICALLY))

ynofficial: yes

edwards.73: but i'm devil scum (i'm ignoring the fragile part)

ynofficial: not yet properly, luke's runs in his blood (probably for the better)

nblanks98: WHAT'S THIS ABOUT BEING FRAGILE I'M A HOCKEY PLAYER

ynofficial: just that you're very bbg

nblanks98: actually i don't want to know

kienandraper: pecs 🤯

markestapa: omg 🤯 such a shocker 🤯🤯🤯🤯

kienandraper: oi

nolan_moyle: what a little studmuffincutiepie that markestapa is

markestapa: captain? 😧 is that legal???? 😧

ynofficial: i thought that NICKname was for nblanks98 only

nblanks98: we fell out momentarily and he's being petty

ynofficial: oh? okay???

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 16

⚠️ Erm, not sure what to tag this as...fluffy whump angst? Mainly fluffy!

Timeline starts as memory and ends in the present. Hope you enjoy!

💚💛👨‍🏫🚒🐦‍🔥

Night fell on Tracy Island, and Virgil flopped down onto the cool sheets of his bed. Training had gone well today, despite the odd hiccup; Tam taking to the jet-pack like a duck to water. Jonesy...well, he flew with all the finesse of a drunken penguin. Luckily, the med-scanner had reported no injuries, but for a bruised backside. The merciless ribbing (as to be expected from good friends) was decidedly more painful.

Virgil smiled.

Jonesy had just batted the jokes right back. The firefighter had a good sense of humour, and a thick skin - another vital trait in their line of work. It was like having a second Gordon about the place, which was in equal parts a blessing and a curse.

His piano, for starters; having been somewhat neglected since their guests arrived, had acquired a fine layer of dust. Gordon, of course, had wasted no time at all in scribing messages on its hood.

What's the difference between a piano and a fish? You can't tuna fish!

Jonesy had laughed way too hard at that; and just a few short hours later, another dad-joke (of equal cringe-worthiness) followed. Only, this time, the handwriting obviously not Gordon's.

Why did the GDF arrest Virgil?

Because he got into treble!

Virgil sighed.

"EOS, please can you add piano polish to the shopping list?"

*. *. * .

Virgil drew idle angel-patterns in the fresh bed linen; savouring the luxury of being able to starfish in his king-sized bed after training...well, they weren't really recruits anymore. They had all integrated so well with the family, that it was nice to think that he'd been training friends.

Mac...Mac was quite quiet; that was until he and Brains started chin wagging about Star Trek.

I mean, he liked Star Trek as much as the next person, but those two must have mastered the ability of breathing through their ears. He'd never seen Brains talk so much!

And though he often opted out of their tedious-Trek-talks; it was wonderful to see their resident engineer, and friend, so animated.

Virgil was roused from his thoughts by the strumming of a gentle Spanish folk song; the lilting melody drifting through his open balcony doors.

Someone was humming. By process of elimination; he knew it to be Tamara. It was a female voice, and he had heard both Grandma's and Kayo's over Comms enough times to know that it wasn't them. He padded quietly over to the balustrade, taking in the night air as the music played on.

It was a beautiful night; the father stretches of ocean so tranquil; the surface glittered with dark starlight.

Virgil rested his head on folded arms, watching the seafoam gather and fade along the shoreline.

Usually, all this beauty went unseen. After back-to-back rescues; he was lucky to see a glimpse of his pillow before sleep took him. He sighed contentedly, and the music suddenly stopped.

"Oh God! I had no idea anyone could hear me! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to keep you up!" Tam set the guitar aside with a musical thud.

"No, no, please! Play on! I was really enjoying that," Virgil leaned his head over the balcony.

"I'm really not that good. I-"

"How long have you been playing?" Virgil stalled her from disappearing back from her balcony and into her own room.

"Erm...ever since my mum passed, so that's...six years - but it's all self-taught," Tam flustered shyly. It was the first time Virgil had seen her out of her comfort zone.

"That's really impressive. And...I'm sorry about your mom. We lost our mother, Lucy, when we were just boys. Time doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No... but I guess, those who are lucky have, or find others to live for," Tam sighed pensively.

They both stood silently for a moment, lost in memory and deep in thought.

After a moment, Virgil gently cleared his throat.

"Do you like stars?"

"Stars?"

"Mmmm."

"Yes. I mean, especially here. They're so vivid and... ethereal!" Tam enthused.

"Well, if you can spare ten minutes; I'd love to share something with you. You can see it best from the Comms balcony," he gestured.

"Oh...I mean, sure?"

"You don't have to. It's nothing really. I-"

"No, no! I'd love to see," Tam assured, seeing that whatever he was referencing, held a great deal of meaning to him...whatever it was.

"Cool. I'll meet you up there in five."

*. *. *.

Tam found Virgil already waiting outside of the Comms room.

He greeted her with a genuine smile, before turning his face to the tapestry of stars in the near-midnight sky.

“Okay. I'm no John, but you can't have two spacecase brothers without learning a handful of constellations,” Virgil waved vaguely.

“Mmm. I bet.”

"Erm...Do you know many constellations?” he queried, not wanting to patronize another potential spacecase.

“Erm, well...that one over there's the North Star.” Tam pointed to the brightest light gleaming proudly in the sky.

“That's…actually Five. John's obviously overdone his teeth whitening gel.”

Tam snorted as she laughed.

“Spoken like a true brother.”

"Alright...so you'll have to use your imagination...like, a lot..." Virgil smiled.

"Cassiopeia, can you see her?"

Virgil guided Tam's hand up to the constellation.

"Angle your head slightly. It's a..."

"M?"

"Mmm hmm. Now, Auriga - that's your O." He guided her wrist as she traced the shape.

"Bare with me for the next one!"

"Okay."

"This is where you'll have to really use your imagination. You see Gemini - the twins?"

"Erm...yep, got it!"

"Okay, forget their top halves.

"Said no guy ever."

"It's all about their legs." he winked.

"Look..." He guided her hand once more in the final shape of an M.

"Mom."

"Mmm hmm."

Tam hummed appreciatively; the loveliest of smiles forming on her face as she gazed on the astral wonder.

"It really is beautiful," Tam mused.

"Beautiful," Virgil agreed, watching her smile.

Quietly, Tam began humming the melody from earlier, and the palms gently swayed in the light of the moon.

*. *. *

Virgil roused.

Grandma!

He made to move before the rest of his senses had even come back online.

Pain was the elicited result.

He hissed and a gentle hand was felt at his shoulder.

"You're okay, I've got you, I've got you."

The voice was familiar but conscious thought still eluded him.

Everything hurt.

Thinking hurt.

Just then, the voice began humming a familiar tune that filled his darkness with starlight.

[buthowboutno]

DONNIES POV OF THE LATEST CHAPTER... PRETTY PLEASE? 🥺

you've caught me in an amenable mood, sure!

Here's a Donnie POV from the very end of chapter 24 <3

(it's v unedited, apologies)

---

"Wow," April said as she leaned on the counter next to Donnie, "They're really out cold."

Donnie snorted and continued his task of gathering up the empty bottles around the bar.

(He liked to repurpose glass when he could. The more time he spent re-shaping it into his desired purposes it was less time he had to keep depending on subpar tech companies.)

"Just wait until you put a movie on in front of Sweets," Donnie retorted, "I've never seen someone pass out so quickly."

April hummed, gathering up bottles in her own bag, "Should we wake them up and send them home? I bet Leo would make an extra pit stop for them.

"Uh," Donnie said, tilting his head in confusion, "They're spending the night."

"You're not making them sleep on the couch, Donnie."

"I am not making them sleep on the couch, April."

"Sunny and I are taking the spare bed."

"Yes."

"The Casey's have already claimed the cots in the med bay."

"Correct again," Donnie said stiffly, a faint blush rising on his cheeks, "We... Sweets and I usually share my bed."

"Ohhh," April said, trailing off, "Okay. I see."

"There's nothing to see," Donnie argued, "It's simply the most sensible and economical solution. It would be a waste of resources to keep a spare bed fresh and clean with the frequency of Sweet's visits."

"I'm sure."

"Good," Donnie said with a huff, his gaze falling back on you. Your chest rose and fell softly as you slept. Your hand rested against your forehead and twitched as the breeze started to pick up.

It was getting colder again. Truly unprecedented weather patterns this year. If Donnie was a betting man, he would expect snow again before May.

(The month, not Sweet's roommate.)

(Duh, Donatello.)

"I think that's the last of the bags," Raph said, popping his head out of the portal Leo was maintaining just to the side of the pool, "You guys need anything?"

"Wanna get sleepyhead inside?" April said, jerking her head in your direction, "I'm worried about them catching a cold."

"No," Donnie said quickly, practically on instinct.

April raised an eyebrow at Donnie. Her eyes glimmered with satisfaction for just a moment as she schooled her face back to a neutral expression.

Donnie didn't have the energy for her presumptions right now. Not after the last few weeks.

"Raph, do you mind finishing up the bottles for me?" Donnie asked. He already tossed his bag over to Raph before he got an answer and was quickly approaching your side.

You scrunched your face up as Donnie gently raised your head off the chair and managed to settle your torso against his. You were solidly snoozing again with your face pressed against Donnie's neck by the time he managed to slide an arm under your legs.

Donnie pointedly did not look at April and Raph as he stepped through the portal and avoided Casey's blatant staring with a swift departure down his hallway.

You muttered something incomprehensible as Donnie took an especially sharp turn.

It was like a second nature for Donnie to chirp at you and press his cheek against the top of your head as he activated the door to the lab. It was one of the things that Donnie was actively choosing not to think about.

(He had a list.)

(Hypothetically.)

(If there were things that he needed to address.)

(Which there weren't.)

Donnie was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he didn't even think about the fact that he had managed to get a hoodie onto you without considering any of the necessary steps he needed to take before that. Namely, getting your swimsuit off first.

He... Donnie didn't think he should be doing that.

"Sweets, you need to go get changed," Donnie said softly, trying to lift you to your feet from where he had set you onto the bed.

(He tried not to think about the wet mark you left behind on his blankets.)

(Where was his mind today?)

You managed to blearily open your eyes and nodded at him. You allowed him to guide you to the bathroom and obediently took the pair of sweatpants he pressed into your hands.

Donnie shut the door behind you and took a deep, steadying breath. He willed his mind to that calming blankness he reached for during meditation. There was no other option, really.

Not on the fumes Donnie was barely running off of.

Ten seconds in.

Change out of his swim trunks. Place in hamper.

Fifteen out.

Replace the comforter, deal with it in the morning.

Twenty seconds in.

Take off his battle shell. Set it on the charger.

Twenty-five --

You opened the door to the bathroom, the light pouring in behind you as you yawned widely. You half-stumbled, half-walked towards his bed.

Donnie had to catch you as you attempted to pull yourself onto his sheets, your hands failing to find traction on the satin.

You giggled sleepily, your hand landing on the collar of Donnie's hoodie while he attempted to tuck you in. You managed to find his arm and tugged at it, humming happily as you managed to pull it to your chest.

Donnie, already leaning over the bed and in grave danger of losing his balance, had to make a quick choice.

Pull away, calm his heartrate, and go sleep on the lab couch, or...

He could stay.

He couldn't--

Could he--?

You would never--

You made the decision for him, in the end, whether you were conscious of it or not. You pulled forward Donnie with the whole weight of your torso as you leaned farther into his bed.

It was all Donnie could do to keep from squishing you beneath him as he landed on the bed. He would be lying if he said he didn't delight in the fact that you were so near, that every bone in his body wasn't screaming at him to stay close to you at all times.

You snored softly next to Donnie, your ability to pass out within an instant never lagging.

He... would be staying. It didn't seem worth it to disturb you more than Donnie had to.

That was the most reasonable justification that Donnie could find, in any case.

(He really needed to get his hindbrain in order.)

"Shelldon, lights off."

[ominoose]

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫-𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Summary: Random drabble's about Steven Grant meeting other Oscar Isaac characters. No Marc or Jake co-concious, only referenced. Characters: Basil Stitt, Leto Atreides, Poe Dameron A/N: This randomly hit me and I wanted to write it because it was funny. Used a spinny wheel for it. Also idk if BB-8 can do that but now he can.

London was it's usual muggy, busy self as Steven ran down the street, hoping to catch the bus to work. It had been hard enough to get a job after the Museum Incident, but maintaining a position was proving to be a much harder endeavor between his abnormal sleeping patterns and head mates.

"Oi! Wait, please!" Steven was within touching distance just as the bus sped off, and at the lack of anything to rest his weight on or break his fall, the man found himself tumbling face first into traffic.

☽ 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐭 (Lightningface)

+ When Steven first wakes up in the apartment, his first thought is that he's woken up in a bomb site. The apartment is a mess, furniture and clothes strewn everywhere haphazardly. He's momentarily glad Marc isn't replying in his head, knowing the American would have an aneurysm over the state of the place.

+ Basil is the one to find Steven, jumping up from his spot on the couch and staring at him like he's an alien. The first thought in his mind is that Ricky the Monkey did some crazy magic and brought a clone to replace him. Poor Steven barely has a chance to process the situation before he's trying to calm his scarred, other American look alike down and explain his situation. Nothing manages to convince Basil there isn't some magic going on here, but he stops viewing Steven as an evil replacement.

+ After the initial shock and awkward introductions, they manage to sit down and chat for a few minutes. Basil shares the story of the lightning strike, insisting that its imbued him with magical powers. Steven, bless his heart, immediately believes this and boasts about his own moon powers too.

"You know, I've always wanted to try jumping off the roof and flying, have you done that?"

"Oh no, my mate Marc usually handles that, but maybe we can practice together? Have you got a suit as well?"

"Yeah, it's this paper bag and bed sheet I fixed up myself! C'mon, I have a stool on the balcony-"

"Wait, hang about.... Actually, mate, on second thoughts, lets not."

+ Steven ends up convincing Basil to properly fix his apartment, not just brush away the broken shards and dust. So that's what they do for a while, busying themselves as they theorize on how to get Steven back home with only a handful of brain cells between them. Basil listens with surprising intensity when Steven ends up branching off into Egyptology tangents, and likewise Steven nods along when Basil brings up all the documentaries he'd watched recently. In the end, the apartment does end up in much better shape, and the pair become quite chummy.

"Damn. Thanks for the help... Maybe I did overreact a bit."

"Yeah, it's no problem bruvs, it happens. Surprised the doctors didn't give you anymore meds, though I suppose over here its not like the NHS."

"Oh, no I didn't go to the hospital."

"...You wot?!"

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 (Dune)

+ Coming to on hot, sandy slabs is enough of a trigger point to Steven Grant as they come. Coming to on hot, sandy slabs with weird astronauts in suits pointing space guns at him goes beyond frighting and circles back into 'Shit yourself' territory. Thankfully they seem to speak English. Unfortunately, his high pitched screams and babbling British noises don't make sense to them while they peer down their guns at him with confusion. It isn't until a booming voice draws everyone's attention that Steven gets a chance to breath.

+ Said breath is swiftly knocked back out of Stevens lungs when a wiser, nobler and older version of him walks into the room, commanding the attention of every single space soldier in the room. The man stares down at him as he lays huddled on the ground, curled into himself, and quirks a single well groomed eyebrow at him.

"I am Duke Leto of House Atreides. You have penetrated your way into my home. Who are you?"

"I-I-I'm S-Steven Grant. Of the... Giftshop."

The Duke continues his stony stare at Steven for a few seconds longer before holding out a calloused hand.

"Well Steven of the Giftshop, I think we both have many questions for one another, and hopefully some answers."

+ When Steven finally gets over being starstruck at the dignified, royal version of himself, and when Leto makes the accidental mistake of mentioning that they're billions of years in the future on another planet, Steven freaks out, having a 10 minute long panic attack. When that's over he geeks out instead, asking a million questions about technology, using apologies as commas and full stops.

"Do people still know about Khonshu in this era?!"

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with that name."

"Lucky sod."

+ Leto thinks the strange, weird sounding clone of himself is a schizophrenic long lost cousin, but at lease he isn't trying to kill him over a title. It's not as common in Arrakis, or the general noble courts, to find someone as earnest, honest and willing to learn as Steven seems to be, which earns him a surprising amount of respect from the Duke.

𝐏𝐨𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 (Star Wars)

+ Waking up in a space ship that's doing somersaults mid-battle while dodging and weaving around beams trying to explode it out of the sky was almost as stressful as waking up on a London bus at 8am. Commendably, Steven didn't scream or cry, but simply had a silent panic attack until a rolling white and orange ball started beeping at him, or rather the ridiculously handsome version of him currently flying the plane.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get on my cruiser?!"

"Bloody hell, not another handsome American me!"

"What?! BB-8, check for a concussion!"

+ After being given a water bottle by the polite little droid, Steven finally managed to calm himself down by the time the ship touch down and the pilot in matching droid colours sprang before him, launching question after question. When he clocked Stevens face, he was speechless, brows slowly knitting over his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him. Mid stare-down BB-8 nicked the Brits skin, running a quick diagnostic test and beeping the results out to the pilot who's eyebrows swiftly un-knitted at the noises.

+ Taking advantage of the silence, Steven tries to explain himself and his situation, insisting he comes in peace and simply wanted to get home before Donna got another excuse to give him the sack. The pilot finally introduced himself as Poe, the best pilot in the resistance at that, and with a sigh he promised to try and figure out how to get Steven back to whatever galaxy London was from.

+ Poe tries to explain the resistance and the empire to Steven, who in turn compares it to Ammits cult and jointly rants about those who take choice and freedom from the innocent. Poe is happy enough that his weird blood ancestor is with the resistance, even if he does constantly regard him with a quirked eyebrow, wondering how in the universe he managed to evolve from this walking concussion. For a second time Poe is rendered silent as Steven mentions being Moonknight.

"Oh yeah, I've done that too, at least those Jedi blokes doesn't send their jackals after you though!"

"You've... fought? In battle?"

"Course, yeah. Fought off giant gods back to the underworld, stopped the day of reckoning as the souls of the living were flooding the underworld. It was just the other day actually."

"...You killed god?!"

+ Steven absolutely adores BB-8 and Leia, a feeling the bot and all of the resistance seem to happily return, much to the dismay of Poe. Steven's quite flustered from all the attention and questions, leaving Poe to drag him away in a huff, claiming they need to get back to figuring out how to send him home. It feels like a babysitting gig more than anything, but deep down it strokes Poe's ego when Steven ooh's and ahh's at all his resistance tales.

[doumadono]

Congratulations on reaching 3k followers! I hope you will reach an even higher number, you really deserve them for your talent and hard work! 💞💞

Before I make the request, I want to say that I really find it comforting that you have time for your hobbies and your medical career. I am in my last year of med school and I took intensive care in consideration. Sometimes I worry that I will have to completely abandon my love for video games and anime, but I found out there is still hope, even though my free time will definetely be more limited fjshshdhs.

I wish you infinite success on your medical path! ⚕️🧠

And for my request, I thought of:

- a Douma with a f!Reader

- sfw headcanons

- prompt no. 32. Sleeping in the same bed for the first time from 002 SFW.

Douma & Reader in the same bed for the first time - headcanons

A/N: I truly appreciate your kind words! Congratulations on being in your last year of med school and pursuing intensive care – that's an incredible accomplishment! Remember, while your free time may become more limited, it's heartening to know that there's always room to enjoy the things you love. Keep nurturing those interests – they can be a valuable source of respite throughout your medical journey. Wishing you all the best in your final year and beyond! 🌟 Once again, thank you so much for this lovely request, as well as for your warm, kind words ♥

MASTERLIST

One evening, you find yourself assisting Douma in preparing for an upcoming meeting with his followers. The tasks keep you busy, and as the night wears on, exhaustion creeps in

After noticing you're growing exhaustion from spending long hours with him, Douma suggests that you rest in his chamber. He assures that it's merely for your well-being, and you hesitantly accept his offer. "You seem exhausted, my dear. Perhaps you should rest for a while."

Douma's chamber is unexpectedly serene, adorned with soft, silk drapes that flutter gently in the breeze coming through opened door leading to the private part of the garden. You're surprised by the calming atmosphere, finding solace in the tranquil surroundings

As you settle into bed, Douma hums a soothing melody, his voice surprisingly melodic. The gentle vibrations of his humming lull the you into a peaceful slumber, chasing away your anxieties and tension

"What's that melody? It's beautiful," you ask

"It's an old tune," he begins, his voice holding a trace of nostalgia. "I don't quite recall where I heard it first, but it always brought me a sense of calm. I thought it might offer you some comfort tonight."

After you settled into bed, Douma's arm slips around your waist, drawing you into a protective embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest against your back creates a soothing rhythm, lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

Douma's hold is surprisingly gentle yet firm, as if he's determined to shield you from any troubles that might intrude upon the night. His closeness brings a sense of security you've never experienced before

Throughout the night, whenever you stir or whimper in your sleep, Douma's grip tightens ever so slightly, his subconscious way of ensuring your comfort. His touch becomes a silent reassurance that you're not alone

You awaken in the middle of the night, your heart racing from a nightmare. Without a word, Douma's fingers brush against your cheek, his touch cool and soothing as he gently wipes away the remnants of your distress

When you wake up, you find yourself nestled against Douma's chest, his arm still protectively around you

After waking up, he lays with you in his arms. Suddenly he remarks teasingly, "You do realize that sleeping in my chamber grants you no special privileges, right?" Douma's fingers trace soothing patterns along your arm, the gentle touch acting like a balm to any lingering anxieties

"Oh really? I thought it came with a crown and a scepter," you reply, rolling your eyes

After that night, your interactions with Douma become less strained. You find comfort in his presence and gradually begins to open up to him, sharing stories and secrets in the quiet hours of the night

[riley-coyotl]

Fourth Monthly Puppy Report Card for Kelpie!

Kelpie’s progress from 5 – 6months (posting a couple weeks late, oops.) Be prepared for these to contain Too Many Notes because that's just how I am. Categories subject to be added to or change as she matures and things become more or less relevant.

Food (drive, appetite, sensitivity): 🟢 - Good here, no concerns. She eats well, has decent enough food drive; she will still lose interest in lower value treats if she’s in an overwhelming/very stimulating environment which can make things difficult in a sense for working on her behavior in those environments but. It’s also good feedback for me on her mental state, so I can’t truly complain as working around that is more of a factor of my skill as a trainer than it is an actual issue. Conveniently, at this point, she’ll usually actually work on eating chews rather than burying them when I give them to her, but sometimes she’s still burying stuff in the couch. That’s ok, it’s pretty cute. And—knock on wood—over this past month, her gut seems to have settled, tummy upset/diarrhea is rare now! We’ve not changed anything about the way we feed her so I suspect that her teething was making things worse somehow (tummy upset from swallowing a lot of drool? stress from pain?), and now that we’re past that, she’s got a more stable tummy. Really happy about that! Maybe it was just a puppy thing too, perhaps her gut just needed time to develop.

Toys: 🟢 - She’s a good playful girl, loves her toys, fetches and plays tug nicely, toy skills are developing well and she is getting good at “drop it” when we play, she’s usually pretty quick about it!

Sleeping: 🟢/🟡 - Still doing great here, sleeps fine through the whole night at night (~8 hours) and now about halfway through this month, started sleeping through the night (~6-8 hours) more often than not even if this is during daylight hours. Woohoo! I’m definitely enjoying having more uninterrupted sleep. And during wake cycle hours, she naps well in her crate while we’re gone and has even started napping more on her own when out loose in the house with us too! The 🟡 is just for one caveat to this, which is that a few times, on the weekends when my partner’s trying to sleep in, Kelpie has had a very hard time settling in her crate past early morning when he’d normally be getting up to feed the dogs and let them out before work; this is even if he’s taken her out (multiple times), or fed her a stuffed frozen treat or a partial (or even full) breakfast, etc. My theory here though is that this happens typically when he engages in a partial morning routine with her in an effort to get back to bed faster—for instance feeding just her breakfast vs. her and the other dogs, or letting all three dogs out together but not feeding breakfast after, etc. I also think bringing her outside off leash in the yard rather than on leash when he’s intending to go back to bed is a factor, because when I get up to take her out when I’m not getting up yet, I always take her out on leash and go straight back to bed, and she settles right away. I think the issue is just that she’s getting cues that “morning routine” time is starting, then getting confused and frustrated when it doesn’t all occur and she’s expected to settle after. When the routine is not started at all (just out on leash and back to bed) or has been completed in full (all dogs outside, all dogs given breakfast together, Maple given her meds, etc., then all dogs back to bed) she sleeps better even if expected to sleep in. Because of our sometimes inconsistent/fluctuating schedule, I train my dogs to not expect meals etc. at specific times of day, but rather surrounding certain patterns of routine, so I think this problem will solve itself so long as we’re not sending her mixed messages, and she’ll learn to be consistently flexible.

Crating/separation: 🟢 - Doing good here. She is fine in her crate overnight or when we leave the house, can be left home for 5-6 hours if needed. We’ve not used puppy pens at all this month so I can’t comment on how she’d do confined in a pen right now. She does still have a bit of FOMO—curiously enough, if the other dogs are taken out but she’s left in her crate, she’ll whine a bit; however, if all the dogs are out together and just she alone is put in her crate in the other room (with a chew or stuffed frozen treat) she typically does fine and just naps. Occasionally when she was sent to nap (because she still goes into crazed puppy mode sometimes) she’s done a bit of barking, but as long as she’s given something to chew she usually does alright. And bless her, she is currently my only dog who is consistently ok with being left home while the other dog(s) leave with us. Maple and especially Juni, take notes please!!

Potty training: 🟢 - After we took some steps back in training (taking her out more often, increased vigilance, and trying to remember to bring food treats out with us to reward her for doing her business outside,) she very rapidly improved again. She’s consistently ringing the bells to ask to go out when she needs to go, and is quite reliable in all areas of the house. We’ve had a few accidents this month but all of them occurred when we didn’t notice her ringing the bells in time or asked her to wait a little too long before taking her out after she asked (sometimes our hands are full…)

General training: 🟢 - Amassing new tricks and behaviors rapidly now! I didn’t quite realize how much until friends who hadn’t seen her since last month came by and I realized how much new stuff I could show them that she knows! And our language of communication with each other has improved to the point that she pretty much understands me even outside of specifically taught cues; I can communicate pretty much whatever I need to her, and she’s very expressive as well and knows how to ask for things she needs/wants. Sometimes I do still feel discouraged with training progress, but that is more about me than about her. She’s a good puppy.

Recall/Off-leash skills: 🟢/🟡 - About the same as last month. She’s great except when in peak Mischief Mode, that can occasionally interfere with her brain and cause her to take her time before recalling. Just gotta keep working on it and reinforcing her, and I need to stop being lazy about it and deliberately practice more!

Leash walking: 🟡 - About the same as last month, pulls when excited, if she’s on an interesting smell, or trying to get to the “right” spot to go to the bathroom. Considering her temperament, this amounts to what I would consider not a small amount of pulling. Needs work, and I wish our progress here was better, but I know she’s got it in her. She shapes up with the right treats, haha.

Biting: 🟢/🟡 - As we’ve exited the throes of the worst parts of teething, bitey shark mode is happening less often, and when she does get bitey, she (usually) isn’t doing it too hard, but occasionally she’ll still get excited and chomp down on my arm pretty hard. Now that she has all her adult teeth in though this is significantly less painful than when her mouth was full of tiny puppy needles though lol

Manners: 🟢/🟡 - Doing pretty alright here! She’s jumping up on people less (gives them ample time to reinforce her for staying on the floor before she loses patience/impulse control, but that’s on guests for not being great at following instructions to help with her training, not her fault,) and although it’s not disappeared entirely, she is leg-humping less. She’s still not trustworthy to leave things on tables/counters where she can get them, I think for the most part she’s just a very curious little doggie! And sad to say but we’ve broken our streak and she has managed to get a lick or two of food off the table/counters a couple times...it is very hard to wrangle guests into being smart about their food/possessions…:’). That said, despite her managing to successfully counter surf, she’s still improving and doing it less often, and offering alternative behaviors more. And she’s still a mischievous puppy, but she is starting to understand and accept what things are and aren’t for puppies. I haven’t had her steal the TV remote in awhile even though it’s been left out where she could easily grab it.

Grooming/Handling: 🟢/🟡 - She’s a good girl, cooperates real well for grooming and handling. Now that she’s done with the most painful parts of teething, we’re back to working on teethbrushing too and she’s made some good progress there, less sensitive about her mouth. The 🟡 here pertains only to one aspect of Handling specifically, which is that she’s started being gear shy about harnesses for some reason. We’re working on it.

Car rides: 🟢 - Rides great in the car still! She’s going to be a great road tripping dog like Maple, I can tell.

Outings/socialization: 🟢/🟡 - Mostly doing well, and we’ve been getting out more often this month as we’ve been taking her to go swimming at the indoor dog pool regularly! Her biggest reaction to the world is still curiosity and although I’m sometimes struggling to get her to focus in novel environments, she’s a puppy and it’s not reasonable to expect too much in that regard just yet. She did have two big spooks this month—first when we had an unfortunate incident where we were introducing a force air dryer to her and the pressure in the hose caused it to fly off the shelf it was on (our dumb mistake) and slammed loudly to the floor and flailed around smacking my partner; her response was a startle and the very first big alarm barking I’ve ever heard her do while she rushed forward to yell at the hose; she recovered from this pretty well and was perfectly willing to approach the dryer and hose afterward with a totally level head. Second big spook was when a large merchandise cart at Home Depot suddenly turned down the aisle we were in after we’d moved away from it (she’d shown some nervousness when she saw it approaching the first time, so I was giving her some space to process it) and it showed up behind us. This resulted in similar alarm barking; she disengaged to walk away with me very nicely right away, but she did have a bit of a harder time recovering from this, over threshold re:stimulation for the next few minutes until we left the store, not able to focus. I felt really discouraged about these two incidents and especially the second one, worrying because (no offense, Juni,) I really, really do not want to end up with another fearful/reactive dog here… But I need to keep perspective, and expecting that a being who’s only been on this earth for 6 months to never get scared is unreasonable. I need to remind myself that even perfect, bombproof Maple wasn’t always the fearless, bombproof, perfect dog she matured into; when she was younger she did have fears or spooks which she worked through or things she had to build confidence with, she did struggle with attention span and focus as a puppy and teenager, etc. It might be easy to forget on account of Kelpie now being bigger than Juni, but I think I just need to keep reminding myself that 6 months is still a baby!

Dogs: 🟢/🟡 - She still loves other dogs, and is still improving in regards to not feeling the need to tackle them to play 24/7, coexisting more and more without her feeling compelled for direct interaction with them. She and Juni play really nicely and for the most part she has learned not to get too rough with Juni nor rudely tackle her out of nowhere, because as she’s gotten bigger, Juni took off the kid gloves a bit in being quicker to correct her and a little more harshly when the puppy was being rude to her. Kelpie and her now have more of an understanding and she is doing better about listening to lower level corrections from Juni. However, sadly, I am still having to rescue Maple from Kelpie’s exuberance fairly regularly. Even Maple has gotten less patient with Kelpie’s rude puppy antics, but the problem is she’s still being very nice to her about it and still has a longer fuse than Juni, so by the time Maple is ready to escalate from “hey I didn’t like that/I don’t want to play right now” to “ok seriously heck off you little shit,” Kelpie has already tackled her to the ground; Kelpie being stronger than Maple now, Maple is physically unable to make an effectual correction from such a disadvantaged position and Kelpie is misinterpreting Maple’s behavior as continuing play with her. I try to intervene before it gets to this point, but Kelpie is still a little wrecking ball that goes from 0 to 100 real fast, so it’s easy for some nice, gentler play between Maple and Kelpie to go from that to her accidentally bullying poor Maple in the span of a few seconds. Despite this, she is getting better at it, as Maple is starting to more frequently show Kelpie a shorter fuse before a correction, and thus actual communication gets to occur where Kelpie can be like “oh shit, my bad, ok.” I think this is gonna continue to get better and work out as she matures, and of course I will keep refereeing as we go. Aside from Kelpie being Too Much with Maple sometimes, they all otherwise communicate and coexist nicely. Kelpie never takes things personally so there are no hard feelings when she gets corrected, and I appreciate her easy-going attitude.

Humans: 🟢 - Good and well-rounded here. Friendly with new people especially if engaged with, but she’s usually not overly interested in them. She’s been wonderful meeting my friends, happy to say hi. In public, sometimes she wants to investigate someone she meets but move on instead of be petted, which is completely fair and I even appreciate that aloofness beginning to show.

Cats: 🟡/🔴 - Still thinks it’s real great fun to pester the cats in our house. She’s usually able to coexist with them, but if she’s amped up or feeling bored, her favorite thing to do with the cats is to go bark and play-bow at them until she goads them into hissing and swatting at her, at which point she gleefully engages in a one-sided game of bitey-face/slappy-paws with them, and will give chase if the cat decides they’ve had enough and takes off. I’ve been doing my best to manage this and train her out of it, rewarding alternative behaviors and peaceful coexistence, interrupting and redirecting her from her interest in the cats, rewarding her for calling off when she starts messing with them, making sure the cats ample places to hide/routes to escape the puppy, and ultimately putting Kelpie on leash or away in her crate for a nap to “reset” her if she can’t chill the fuck out and leave them alone, etc. but progress has been slow-going as the behavior is very reinforcing to her, and I’m pretty stressed about it. Both our cats are older now, and Kelpie is getting big, so I’m getting worried about her ending up hurting one of them with this behavior.

Small animals: 🟢 - Her prey drive has seemed to Activate more over the past month but her level of interest in things like birds and rabbits seems healthy and normal to me, can’t complain. I’ve also been reinforcing all behaviors related to prey that don’t involve chasing, so watching without giving chase gets paid well. (Hoping that helps/translates to my training with her re:cats in the house, too.)

Bonding/affection: 🟢 - She’s starting to develop more emotional sensitivity/awareness of my emotions, which I appreciate. A few times this month, she’s actively come to comfort me when I was upset. And snuggles have been more common this month, she’s taken to going into “scarf mode” around my neck/shoulders for a cuddle pretty regularly. I love her!! She’s a real sweetie. Still doesn’t cuddle as often as I wish she would, but as she’s learning to chill more often, I’m hoping she continues to get more cuddly.

Overall grade 🟢, I am overall very happy with her this month! Our relationship is continuing to develop, she’s learning a lot, she’s a sweet good girl and my only real complaints with her are her messing with the cats, and her pestering Maple, and I’m only actually worried about the former. That said, I can already tell she is possibly going to be a difficult teenager (Maple was too..) Wish us luck!

[youregonnabeokay-kid]

ADHD information for fanfic writers:

Diagnostic Process:

the diagnostic process is different in every country, but this is a basic overview

- an ADHD referral can come from any type of doctor, unlike referrals for other neurodivergences

- the wait list depends on where you live and how old you are. typically the younger you are, the shorter the wait

- ADHD has to be diagnosed by a psychiatrist or by a doctor who has taken a specialized course to be certified in diagnosing and handling ADHD

- most doctors will make you fill out a questionnaire about your mental health. these questionnaires involves sections about family history, personal history, and statements that you have to agree or disagree with

- a good psychiatrist won’t diagnose you with ADHD during your first visit. they will instead spend the first few visits getting to know you and the state of your mental health

- most people are assessed for depression when being assessed for ADHD. this is because depression can present itself in similar ways. if diagnosed with depression and open to medication, the psychiatrist will first prescribe antidepressants and see how those affect you before moving on with the ADHD assessment

Meds:

- most ADHD meds are taken in the morning since they normally wear off after 8-12 hours

- when meds wear off we go through what’s known as a “crash” or “medication rebound”

- ADHD crashes are pure hell which is why some people with ADHD choose to only take meds during the week or they do nothing on the weekend as a reset of sorts

- basically, when our meds wear off all of our symptoms come back at the same time and we get overstimulated to the point of exhaustion

- some people have smaller doses of their meds that they take at the beginning of the crash. this means they can prolong the crash by a couple hours

- for some people, the first time taking meds is hell. the change is very noticeable and abrupt. i wouldn’t stop talking because it was “too quiet” (it being my mind)

- your dosage is not based on body type or weight and just because you take a high dose in one drug doesn’t mean you take a high dose in all others (my ADHD meds are 10mg higher than the highest prescribed amount but my antipsychotics are .5mg lower than the lowest prescribed dose)

- vyvanse is most often prescribed to people with combo ADHD, ritalin to those with hyperactive ADHD (especially those with impulsivity issues), and adderall for inattentive (no, this is not something that is typically disclosed or well-known but if you’ve talked to enough people w/ ADHD you begin to see a pattern) other ADHD meds are available but less likely to be prescribed

- other meds are also taken into account when getting a prescription for ADHD. vyvanse is the most versatile and is usually the one prescribed if you’re on other medications

- ADHD meds are stimulants which means doctors will never give you refills (if they do, they could lose their license)

- since they’re stimulants, for the first year you have to go to the psychiatrist’s bi-weekly for the first few months, then monthly after that so they can see how you are doing

- ADHD meds are known for lowering sex drives and increasing hunger (sometimes the opposite may happen, as with most drugs, but these are most common)

- it takes about 1/2 hour to an hour for meds to kick in and many of us are able to tell the exact moment they start working

Other Substances:

- the neurons and chemicals in the body of an ADHD person are fucked. this means that many substances and medications have either no effect on us, or the opposite effect of what they are intended for

speaking from personal experience:

- caffeine makes me tired

- melatonin and other sleeping aids like dextromethorphan, which can be found in many cough syrups, make me hyper

- weed makes me feel lighter, but it never affects me more than that. i never get a “proper high” like other people (ie; i find no more joy or fascination in bright colours or moving objects than i usually do)

- while “sugar highs” in general are a myth, they’re real for people with ADHD! they stimulate our dopamine and opioid receptors which gives us a burst of energy

- additionally, people with ADHD are more likely to be addicted to illegal stimulants like cocaine because it calms them down (yup, you read that right. when someone with ADHD does cocaine their mind quiets and they mellow down instead of the usual hyper-active high that neurotypicals get)

Additional Information:

- we’re lacking some of the neurotransmitters in our brains so it takes us longer to process information, and we have “more” thoughts than neurotypicals since our additional thoughts aren’t processed out

- we get what’s called “executive dysfunction” or “ADHD paralysis” where we are physically unable to do things despite no real physical limitations (for non-ADHD folks: try putting your hand in fire. you’ll notice that you are either physically unable to or that your body somewhat restrains you from doing it. this is what executive dysfunction is like. for ADHD folks: do not try this since we’re also less likely to have self-preservation instincts)

- basically, i can sit for hours thinking about doing the dishes, screaming at myself in my head to just do them, but i’m still unable to

- we leave trails! we have so many thoughts going through our head that we forget them all the time, so when we get a thought like “i think the printer is low on paper, i should check” we abandon all tasks in favour of the new thought. however, the remains of those tasks stay where we left them, and thus, an ADHD trail is made

- we have both the worst and best memory of anyone you will ever meet. i might be able to tell you the exact outfit you wore on a specific day five years ago but i won’t remember what i ate for breakfast

- when we get bored, we get depressed. like, life is meaningless and i want to curl up in a ball and die depressed. sometimes we need someone to physically force us out of bed to get us out of our funk (and sometimes all it takes to get out of the funk is doing something fun which makes us feel ridiculous when we think about how depressed we were prior)

- since boredom is detrimental to us, we have to constantly be having fun which, in and of itself, is not fun. this is also why a lot of us end up doing shift work or working dangerous jobs

- we’re adrenaline junkies. this isn’t even a “most of us” situation, it’s all of us. the only difference is how we get that adrenaline. (some get it by jumping out of a plane, others get it by working on assignments in a time crunch)

- we’re social beings. even if we’re introverts, we thrive on social interactions. without them our dopamine plummets and we, once again, get depressed

- all silences are awkward to us. it doesn’t matter if you’re the person we’re most comfortable with in the world, silence is always awkward. or, more specifically, we feel like we need to fill it which is why we often ramble

obviously there’s far more to ADHD than just this and everything can change person by person but i hope this helps to gain a bit more of a general understanding on ADHD

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Hihi! currently dealing with a bout of bad chronic pain and it got me thinking.

Any chance to get a hall mom Thornhill and platonic student reader who has chronic pain. Hurt / all comfort lol.

thornhill makes something to ease the pain using some of her plants in the greenhouse? And maybe she specifically started growing the plants once she learned one of her students suffered from chronic pain?

Please and thank you! Also feel free to change anything up!

Much love from the frog king🐸

Exam Season

Pairings: Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.6K

Summary: Reader has been in some pain and finally finds a solution.

TW: mentions of drugs, chronic pain, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol

A/n I had so much fun with this one. I did a lot of research through my old medical textbooks so most of it is hopefully accurate.

It was exam season which meant pain, both from studying and well … the chronic kind. And just because you were used to it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Because it did. Badly.

There were a few things that caused pain flare ups for you ever since the car accident you were in a few years ago. Of course, one of the two was stress which was assured with exam season and the second was disrupted sleep patterns and with all the late-night study sessions that was another thing you could check off the mental triggers list. But it's not like you couldn’t study. You needed to. You prided yourself on it. Your family name was all you had left of your parents. They, unlike you did not survive the crash. So you used the fear of being nobody with no home as a drive, to work. To be someone worth something.

The light was on in your dorm once again as Ms Thornhill made the rounds before going to bed herself. Ophelia hall had few rooms where there was only one student. You had been lucky enough to be one of them. So she knew you were awake. But the light had been on four nights in a row now. Surely that was getting a little bit excessive. She made mental note to ask you about it later in her class, she knew you were a responsible student and as you were old enough to make your own decisions, she trusted you to make good ones at that.

It must have been around two am before you actually got to sleep. The next morning the pain was so much worse. You dragged yourself out of bed in hope that a hot shower would relax the muscles in your neck. You stood and lazily made your way to the ensuite, mentally thanking whoever was in charge of the roomie situation that you simply didn’t have one.

After a shower that seemed to have little to no effect at all on the stupid amount of pain you were in you dressed slowly and grabbed breakfast before heading to botany.

You had no meds for the pain, Panadol never touched the level of chronic pain you were in. High dose stuff made you nervous, you didn’t want to get addicted at such a young age. But you also couldn’t ask for help without exposing the fact you had nobody at home to get you anything.

You made it a point to avoid the infirmary, opting to look out for yourself.

When you had signed up for nevermore yourself, you had faked your parents' signatures based off some old documents you found in your father's study. You had guarded that secret with your life.

Every parent's weekend you simply said they lived far away which was why you stayed on the grounds during breaks, not because you hated the empty house you would eventually have to go home to. So no, you didn’t risk seeing the nurse.

Taking your seat in the room you were slouching badly, trying to ease the pain by loosening the muscles. Every once in a while, you would roll your shoulders to try and get a temporary reprieve in the constant gnawing on your sanity. After a bit you gave up on the worksheet all together and put your head down on the desk trying to get comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible in that moment.

You jumped when you felt a hand make contact with your back gently. Looking up with bleary eyes, glazed with pain, you saw the concerned face of Ms Thornhill looking down at you.

“Honey are you ok?” She asked already knowing the answer, she was biting her bottom lip, usually you were veery composed so she knew it was something bad.

“Im fine Ms Thornhill.” You said sounding slightly strained.

“Darling I’m your dorm mom right now, call my Marilyn sweetie.” She said and began rubbing circles on your back. You relaxed under her touch, it was soothing and it had been so long since you had any sort of positive contact. You relished in the feeling. You were too tired to care right now about the rest of the class who luckily seemed to be paying no attention at all to the two of you.

“Im fine Marilyn.” You said and ducked your head again.

“Darling don’t lie to me I can tell somethings wrong.” She said softly but sternly. You nodded with tears in your eyes.

“Can I talk to you later.” You whispered.

“Well class is over in a few minutes so please stay behind and talk to me.” She said sensing that you weren’t going to talk in front of your peers.

When class finally ended you packed up your books slowly and stayed seated as the class trailed out. Ms Thornhill came over and pulled up the chair beside you, taking your hand in hers and rubbing it with her thumb grazing gently over your knuckles.

“Talk to me sweetheart.” She said and you choked back tears. The dam burst when she pulled you in for a hug. It had been so long since you had a hug.

You sobbed into her shoulder, and she rubbed your back.

“Shh shh shhh its ok Darling. Im here. And I’ll help you however i can sweetie.” She said before pausing.

“Darling how long has it been since you had a hug?”

“T-too long.” You sniffled.

Then you simply buried your face in her neck until you calmed down. When you finally pulled away, she wiped away the tears with her thumb.

“Now whats the matter many darling?” She asked and you swallowed.

“A few years ago, i was in a car accident. I got whiplash and hurt my neck. It’s never really been the same since. I know it's not in my file but i can usually manage it fine by myself. With the stress of the exam coming up and late nights studying it … it hurts so much more than it normally does. Im scared to take anything I might get addicted to.”

“Well first, we will need to update your file.” She said squeezing you hand gently. “Second if this is a bad flare up...” she paused and waited for your response, and you nodded. “Which it is.” She said slowly, “I can give you something for the pain. And we can manage it together. Ok darling?” She asked and you nodded feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Now I don’t think principal Weems would approve of me growing you some medicinal Marijuana.” She said and you gave a choked laugh.

“No, I don’t think I would.” Came a voice from the doorway and both of you turned to face the principle. She was wearing a small, amused smirk as she walked over to join you.

“I had a report Y/n wasn’t in her second class. I thought i may find her here.” She said. “Anyone want to explain?” She asked and you looked to Ms Thornhill to answer.

“Y/n was just telling me how she’s been having some issues as of late. Chronic pain was it darling?” She asked looking at you and you nodded and looked away studying the plants on the window cil. “We were just discussing some options.” She finished.

“And I’m glad you have ruled out medicinal Marijuana.” Weems said with a laugh.

“As am I.” You whispered making them both laugh.

“Glad to see you were paying attention in last week's drugs and alcohol assembly darling.” The principal drawled. “However, Ms Thornhill here, may need another.” She said jokingly. “So, whats the plan?”

“Well, I was going to make Ms L/n here some chamomile, willow bark and meadowsweet tea for the pain. Maybe a massage and a heat pack.” Ms Thornhill said standing and grabbing various tins of dried herbs. “I have been wanting to grow some more of my herbs for any students that would need them, and it seems u have found my first patient.” She smiled kindly at you, and you simply nodded again.

“Well, I’ll leave you two too it. I’ll also excuse Ms L/n here from her classes for the day. Provided you are either with Ms Thornhill, at your dorm or at the infirmary.” She said and you thanked her as she left.

A moment later the botany teacher placed a steaming mug of tea in front of you and you sighed as she pressed a heat pack she had seemingly pulled from thin air against your neck.

“I can give you a massage later, the upper traps and right across your shoulders if you like?” She said and you nodded. “Yes please.” You said shyly and she beamed at you.

“Drink that tea darling girl and then we can see how you're feeling. Also, I’d be happy to tutor you if it helps with the stress.”

“Oh you … you don’t have to do that, I’m sure I'll be fine.” You stammered not wanting to take up anymore of her time.

“Darling I’m offering.” She said and you paused.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask my sweet.” She said and you sipped the tea again.

It was safe to say the tea helped significantly. Despite being an old remedy and not being clinically proven, it worked really well.

For the rest of the day, you hung out with the botany teacher, and she helped you study some more. Maybe, just maybe, life would be a bit easier from now on.

MASTERLIST

[fbfh]

OOOOOH BOY chat we are COOKED!!!!! my insurance is being a little fuckin bitch about covering my adhd meds so I'm out and I have to self medicate with caffeine so espresso!op is back!!!! /lh

anyway almost done with season 3 of young royals and I'm thinking about August falling SO hard and fast for adhd!reader. you are the only person at hillerska who sees through his bullshit and calls him out on it and he HATES it and he can't fucking stay away from you. after you've been together for a while (people still marvel at how weirdly good you are for each other) you seem a little off, and finally fess up to him that there's a shortage of your adhd meds bc assholes keep abusing them or faking adhd to get it as a study drug (you are unaware that august is one of said assholes) so of COURSE he plays it off like "omg how could someone do that!!! that's just awful!!!!"

so despite his historical patterns of self centered douchey behavior and decisions he actually DOES care about you. there's this tiny little redeeming part within him that wants to be good. like lilo and stitch. dating august is like lilo and stitch and I will not elaborate further. anyway he genuinely does his best to help you out until your meds are filled again. he helps you with chores and laundry and stuff (calls in a cleaning service) makes sure you have grab and go meals (orders you a meal prep service and catering from your favorite restaurants) and helps you find your stuff (follows you around and keeps your keys wallet and phone on a shelf high enough for you to not reach that way you don't misplace them again). he listens to you ramble when you're feeling hyperactive and chatty, he lets you lay on his lap and watch bits of dust float through the air for hours on end when you're feeling inattentive. if you need to stim he'll take you to some indoor gymnastics trampoline park thing and let you go nuts, and if you use caffeine to self medicate when you're off your meds by GOD he will have espresso and energy drinks on tap for you. he won't mind when you wake him up at night because you can't sleep or keep moving around because you can't get comfy, he'll make sure you get where you need to go on time and act as your personal human planner. even if he needs to pick you up and carry you (which he will if necessary), he won't let you start stressing out about forgetting stuff. if you feel bad about it at all, if you feel like you're asking too much of him or being a burden, he will shut that shit down so fast. it's hard work, but he wants to do this, he wants to take care of you. he still won't tell you that he had a faking adhd for meds phase, but after seeing what you go through, he vows never to take prescription stimulants again. he'll make sure no one else in his circle does either - except vincent, who's actually diagnosed and has to regularly remind August that he is in fact supposed to be taking adderall whenever it comes up. August has so much more respect for you and for neurodivergent people in general after that. he didn't think karma really existed before, but he sure as fuck does now, and he might think a little more about tempting her by doing something douchey next time. even if he doesn't, he has you to keep him in line.