#sick to my stomach shaking trembling etc

[bbqhooligan]

"The only way to learn is by playing The only way to win is by learning And the only way to begin is by beginning" who wrote this sam reich. did they knowingly put the secret of life in there as a funny easter egg. just cuz they could? who does that

[sturniolosiphone]

Mix Up

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖MDNI, oral, sex club⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

“This is so ridiculous,” I say to Dani, the BDSM club manager. “How is it possible for my partner to just back out at the last second? I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your fault; I am just frustrated,” I say, running my hands over my face. I have been a club member for over a year, and it’s usually so organized. You are given a partner at random with a photo, a list of their kinks, a safe word, etc., and then you can okay that partner.

“Ma’am, I understand your frustration. This is supposed to be a safe space, and I sincerely apologize. Now I know you were prepared to meet with Luke,” she says, scanning my file. “Okay, so you were supposed to be meeting with Luke,” she flicks her eyes up to meet mine.

“Yes, I was prepared to meet Luke,” I sigh, readjusting my corset.

“It looks like we had another partner back out on someone, which is very odd, but maybe you could meet with him tonight instead?” she asks.

“Well, I’m not really prepared to do so,” I start, but I am cut off by the sound of a door closing behind me. I turn and am met with the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on. He’s wearing gray sweatpants with a white T-shirt and a silver chain. He has luscious curly brunette hair, chiseled cheeks, a beard scruff, piercing blue eyes, and great teeth. I have a thing for mouths.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” he asks, looking between us and grinning.

“Yes,” she smiles brightly. “Y/n Matt, Matt Y/N,” she introduces us. I give him a tight smile, which he returns with a toothy one. Fuck, his teeth are nice. I see Matt’s file on the counter with a picture of the woman he was supposed to meet tonight. Great, she’s white and blonde. My insecurities start to kick in, and I suddenly feel self-conscious and fidget with my hands.

“Matt, I am sure you are a really great guy, but we are not prepared at all,” I ramble, gesturing to both of us. I mean, we don’t know anything about each other. I don’t know your kinks, what you don’t like, we don’t know anything!” I laugh nervously, feeling my face get hot as his eyes rake over my body.

“Slow down,” he chuckles. “You have a point, but I’m always down for just some plain old vanilla sex; I wouldn’t want that pretty little outfit of yours to go to waste.” he winks at me.

“Great!” Dani beams. “It looks like you two are all set!” she says, sliding over the key. Matt reaches for the key and pockets it.

“I’m going just to get some water first. Need anything?” he asks.

“Oh no, I’m good. I’m great, actually,” I say, trying to laugh my nerves away. Matt chuckles and shakes his head.

“You on the pill? Or should I get some condoms?” he says, licking his lips while blatantly staring at my tits.

“Got an IUD up there,” I say, pointing to my stomach and trying to make a joke. “We are so good,” I exclaim, putting my hands on my hips and awkwardly putting my arms down. What is going on with me? I look like an idiot, but he is just so hot, and I can tell he’s enormous by the outline in his sweatpants. Matt lets out a little laugh and proceeds down the hallway. I whip my head over to Dani and see her smirking at me. “So what the fuck was that?!” I whisper yell. “You didn’t even ask me!”

“Yeah, but I could tell by your body language that you want him,” she says. “He’s so hot and always so polite. I would never set you up with an asshole, y/n.” Dani explains. “Now go have fun! I heard he’s huge,” she whispers and winks at me. I start walking down the hallway on trembling legs. I feel sick to my stomach. I don’t think I can do this. Okay, this is fine. I will just go in there and explain that I changed my mind. Or someone broke into my house, and I have to leave—or both. I muster up the strength and open the door, but no one is there. He bailed. Thank god. I turn to leave and am met with Matt's chest. I back up further into our room to give us some space.

“I'm sorry I took so long. Were you trying to leave?” He raises his eyebrow, walks into the room more, and closes the door.

“Look, I don’t think this is a good idea. We don’t have to do this. I know I’m not your type,” I mumble.

“My type?” he questions.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t look anything like the girl you were supposed to meet with,” I say, feeling defeated. Matt starts laughing, and I can feel myself shrinking. He’s making fun of me. This is funny to him.

“Sweetheart, you don’t know anything about my type. Okay?” he says, licking his lips. “I want you to lay on that couch over there, okay? Matt’s going to take care of you, baby,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. It feels like I am not even in my body, and I don’t know how my legs are moving, but they are. I lay on the couch and watched him take in every part of my body. Feeling self-conscious, I reach for the pillow and cover my body. Matt tuts, pulling me to the edge of the couch, and kneels in between my legs. “I don’t think we are going to need this,” he says, moving the pillow. He spreads my knees apart and makes eye contact with me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before, or else I’d be demanding you every time y/n. So fucking pretty like this,” he coos at me.

“Yeah?” I say, feeling myself soaking my black lace panties. He nods, biting his bottom lip while staring at my pussy.

“I’m going to take these off. Is that okay?” he flicks his eyes to meet mine.

“Yes, Matt,” I practically moan. Matt pulls off my panties with one swift motion and wastes no time by licking a fat stripe up my folds. I gasp in surprise and rock my hips forward.

“God baby, I think you were made for me,” he mumbles against my pussy. Matt swirls his tongue around my clit and moves my legs until they are resting on my shoulders. I reach down and grab a fist full of his hair. God, it’s so soft. “Taste so good,” he groans. I feel his tongue at my entrance, and he begins plunging his tongue deep into my pussy.

“Fuck Matt,” I moan while fucking myself on his tongue. “You’re a greedy boy,” I giggle. He’s eating my pussy like he’s starved. He attaches his lips back to my clit and starts pumping his long slim fingers into me. I feel that familiar pressure begins to build up in my stomach. “Gonna cum” I say, my chest heaving up and down. “Fuck, I’m going to cum, Matt,” I whine. A wave of euphoria washes over my body, and I ride my orgasm out on his face.

“Good girl,” he said, praising me and standing up. I can see his rock-hard cock outlining in his sweatpants. He sits on the couch next to me and takes his shirt off. He puts my head in his lap, running his hands through my hair. I hum in pleasure. “Was that good for you?” he asks, looking down at me.

“That was the best head I’ve ever gotten,” I giggle. “Now, what are we going to do about that?” I say, sitting up and pointing to the tent in his pants.

“Anything you want, baby,” he smirks at me, putting his arms up on the back of the couch. I straddle him and scratch my nails down his chest. He puts his head back and groans, and I watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat. I can’t help but grind my bare pussy against his clothed cock. I feel his hips buck up, and he lifts his head to look at me.

“Don’t tease me, sweetheart,” he husks out. ” He puts his hands on my hips, pushing me down on his cock while jerking his hips up. He leans close to my ear and whispers, “Can I kiss you, y/n?”

“Please,” I beg. He crashes his mouth into mine in a frenzy. Our teeth clash, and our tongues battle. He’s grinding into me and digging his fingers into my hips. I begin biting his bottom lip. I feel his chest shaking against mine and his lips forming a smile. I pull back and gasp. “Are you laughing?” I say, my mouth agape.

“I’m laughing because if you keep biting my lips, I’m going to cum” he chuckles, his cheeks growing red. I giggle at him and remove myself from his lap. He whimpers at the lack of contact. I look down and see a huge wet spot on his sweatpants. He follows my eyes, looks down at his lap, and groans. “Pussy so wet for me, hmm?” he asks. I nod while kneeling in front of him. I tuck my hands in his waistband and pull his sweatpants and briefs down to his ankles. His cock springs out and flops down onto his stomach, and he hisses. He is massive.

“Fuck Matt,” I gasp. I grasp his cock with both of my hands and lick his slit collecting his precum on my tongue. He bucks his hips up, causing me to gag.

“Sorry, didn't mean that,” he chuckles. I swirl my tongue around his pink throbbing tip and see him white-knuckling the pillow beside him. He looks so concentrated on not cumming. I attempt to take his length fully in my mouth and quickly realize it’s not going to fit. Fuck, I’m embarrassed. I am a gagging mess, coughing and drooling around him. “Take as much as you can, baby; relax,” he says while running his hands through my hair. “You’re being so brave for me, sweetheart. I’m so close,” he praises. I take as much of him as I can into my mouth while jerking him off with what I can’t fit in my mouth. “Yes, y/n, just like that. So good for me, baby, so good,” he moans. “Going to fill your throat with my cum, y/n,” he grunts, using all of his power not to fuck my throat. He coats my throat with his cum while babbling. I release his cock with a loud pop and take a seat next to him.

“I have never had that happen before. I’m embarrassed,” I laugh. “You’re so big, Matt, my god,” I say. Matt chuckles and shakes his head, getting embarrassed.

“We will have to work on stretching that little pussy of yours out before we fuck,” he says, turning his head to face me. “We’ll have to get you good and ready.” he grins sheepishly at me. “Should we schedule something up front?” he asks.

“Oh, absolutely,” I laugh.

[urmomspersonalwhore]

The Thrill of the Chase

MINORS DNI

-Kafka/Reader, Serial Killer!Kafka, NSFW, Pegging, Use of a strap-on, Cunniligous, Cum eating, Murders, Violence, etc…

“Aw, is my pretty girl trembling? Don't worry doll, it's just me.”

You were trying to call your girlfriend, Kafka.

But it kept automatically sending you to voicemail.

You started to become worried, biting your nails. So you decided to walk to her house.

Stars took place in the Raven-colored skies, the Moon taking over the Sun.

A sigh left your lips, it's a bit cold if you were honest. But the coldness would get harsher as your heart froze.

The sound of a desperate yell, like someone calling for help.

You were by an extremely dark alleyway.

A silhouette of a person hovering over someone else, their head flipping around to stare at you. Your breath hitched, widened eyes staring back at familiar purple hues.

“C’mere!” The person yelled you didn't know what to do. Scared for your life, you followed their instructions.

As you hesitantly walked closer, the very dim lighting revealed the person to be your girlfriend…

So that's why she wasn't picking up.

Somehow your eyes managed to open even more at the surprise of seeing Kafka.

“Didn't you say to do more things that I liked?” she teased, mentioning one of the things you had told her in a previous conversation.

“I didn't mean to do…this..” You had finally managed to mutter towards her, not peeling your eyes away from the corpse.

You were shaking, and she had noticed. A smile formed on her lips, as she spoke.

“Aw, is my pretty girl trembling? Don't worry doll, it's just me.”

She threw the body in a dumpster, bloody hands attaching themselves to your waist.

Her lips ghosted your neck, teasing them.

It felt like you were paralyzed, unable to move or protest. Taking in everything she gave you. She turned you around, now her body pressed up against your back, pinning you to the harsh brick wall.

You felt something poking at your ass.

Did she? No, she couldn't have

“You feel that?” She whispered, her breath tickling your neck.

Shit, she did bring her strap.

Her hands pulled your [Skirt/Pants] smacking a hand to your ass. Massaging the forming red print with a small laugh. Kafka grabbed her knife trailing it down your spine to your butt. Ripping the fabric of your underwear, grinning at you.

She then roughly grabbed your hips, digging her nails into you which left crescent marks. Moving your body to be bending over some random old furniture. The woman pressed against you again, her mouth near your neck. Her hands moved to free her faux cock as well as to grab her knife again. And then, she lightly ghosted the tip of the weapon on your neck to your stomach. Pulling at your shirt, before slicing it open.

Her mouth latched onto your neck, leaving stained marks from her lipstick alongside hickeys.

You couldn't believe after finding out your girlfriend was a murderer that you'd fuck her right next to where she dumped her recent victim.

What kind of sick Wattpad story had your life turned into?

You couldn't deny the fact that you were actually getting wet from this, already aching for her to pound you against the old desk.

And who is she to say no?

Kafka positioned her strap, slowly pushing it in. Her hands busied themselves, cutting the last fabric, your bra. After, playing and massaging your breasts.

She started the pace out slow, kissing your back as she went in and of you so gently that you even forgot she could murder someone in cold blood.

But all to could think about was her pounding into you with her massive strap, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Fuck, you just couldn't hold it anymore.

Loud moans and sobs escaping your throat, tears able to make a whole ocean. She lifted three fingers, forcing them down into your mouth so you can at least be muted in some way.

You gagged as her fingers brushed against your throat everytime she trusted in you, pushing you against her hand.

She groaned at the struggle from you being close to your release.

To which she fortunately granted, but didn't stop. Continuing to abuse your pussy even after your orgasm.

“Can you take one more baby?”

She turned you around, smiling once she got on her knees. Kafka gave you kitty licks at your cunt. Licking every drop of cum you offered her. Of course the overstimulation already had your thighs shaking and whimpering. Your hands pulled at her hair, already embarrassingly cumming.

“Just one more.” she smirked.

©urmomspersonalwhore — please do not copy, repost or translate onto any other platforms without my permission.

[sicknessbysalem]

Day Twelve: "You're Not Fine, you're Throwing Up" | Sicktember 2024

because i actually really like this character, have a self indulgent sickfic that nobody asked for.

if you have any requests, comments, questions, etc., send them my way

tw emeto, scat, fever, pushing through illness

Houston’s day hadn’t started the way he’d expected. In fact, the second his eyes had cracked open, he barely had time to register the dull light filtering through his window before his stomach twisted sharply, leaving him no choice but to bolt for the bathroom. 

He’d barely made it to the sink before his body decided it was time to throw up—no warning, no chance to brace himself. It was sudden, violent, and left him trembling against the cool porcelain, gasping for breath.

He clung to the sink, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to make sense of the chaos inside his stomach. He hadn’t felt sick when he’d gone to bed, just a little off. Maybe it had been the takeout from last night—the greasy pizza and wings didn’t seem like such a good idea in hindsight. 

Houston wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His skin looked a little paler than usual, his dark hair a mess, and his eyes had the faintest shadows under them. He grunted, splashing water on his face, hoping it would wake him up and settle his stomach.

But the morning didn’t get any easier. 

He made it back to his bed, flopping down and hoping to sleep off whatever was going on with his stomach. But it wasn’t long before he was up again, rushing back to the bathroom, his body betraying him with wave after wave of nausea. 

Each bout left him feeling more drained, his stomach clenching painfully with each retch, until finally, hours later, it seemed to stop.

By mid-morning, Houston had managed to make it back to bed, his body limp and exhausted from the morning’s ordeal. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his hand resting on his aching stomach as he tried to make sense of it. He wasn’t one to get sick easily—he was tough, used to working long hours at the parlor and the tavern without much downtime. He figured it had to be food poisoning or something. 

Whatever it was, it had knocked him on his ass. But now that the vomiting seemed to have stopped, Houston was determined to shake it off. He still had work later, and there was no way he was going to let April and Meadow down by calling out last minute.

His stomach seemed to be settling—finally—so he took it as a good sign. He got up, moving cautiously, half-expecting another wave of nausea to hit him. But nothing came. Houston groaned softly, rubbing his hand over his face, and dragged himself to the kitchen for some water. The cold drink soothed his dry throat, though it sat a little uneasily in his stomach, but he figured it would pass.

He checked his phone, his shift at the tavern starting in a couple of hours. No way he was bailing on April and Meadow—not when they relied on him, especially during the weekend rush. Houston told himself he was fine now. Whatever had been in his stomach earlier was out of his system. He just needed to take it easy until his shift, and he’d be good to go.

By the time he had to leave for the tavern, Houston had convinced himself that the worst was over. He splashed more water on his face, brushed his teeth for the third time that morning, and threw on his usual work clothes: a faded black t-shirt that clung to his lean frame, dark jeans, and his well-worn boots. He gave himself a quick glance in the mirror before heading out. 

The walk to the tavern was usually a breeze for Houston—he liked the fresh air and the way the neighborhood hummed to life in the evenings—but today, each step felt heavier than usual. His stomach was still tender, but he ignored it, chalking it up to residual discomfort from earlier. By the time he reached the familiar brick building of the tavern, he was feeling slightly more confident. The nausea had stayed at bay, and that was all that mattered.

Inside, the tavern was already starting to buzz with activity. The familiar warmth of the place washed over him, the low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses a welcome distraction from how he’d been feeling. He made his way to the back, where Meadow was already setting up for the night, her usual bright energy filling the room.

“Hey, Meadow,” Houston greeted, giving her a small smile as he shrugged off his jacket.

“Houston! You’re just in time,” Meadow replied with her usual warmth, giving him a quick once-over. “You good? You look a little tired.”

Houston tensed slightly but waved her off with a casual shrug. “Nah, just a long morning. I’m good now.” He wasn’t about to let on that he’d spent most of the day hunched over his toilet.

Meadow didn’t press further, though he could tell by the slight tilt of her head that she wasn’t entirely convinced. She knew him well enough to pick up when something was off, but for now, she let it slide.

“Alright, if you say so. Just let me know if you need anything,” she said, her tone light but caring as always. “I’ve got the usual setup in the back, so we should be good to go.”

Houston nodded, relieved that Meadow wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t in the mood to explain himself—not when he still felt like he was walking on shaky legs. He made his way behind the bar, slipping into his usual routine, his hands moving with practiced ease as he prepared for the night ahead.

But as the minutes ticked by, Houston could feel the familiar churn of nausea creeping back into his stomach. It started as a dull ache, something he could ignore at first, but as the evening went on, it became harder to push aside. The sounds and smells of the tavern—the clinking of glasses, the scent of food and alcohol—only seemed to make it worse. He clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself, but each time he moved, his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

He wasn’t going to make it through the night like this. He knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Not to Meadow, not to April. They were counting on him, and he wasn’t about to bail after what he’d already been through.

But as another wave of nausea hit him, stronger this time, Houston felt the sweat start to bead on his forehead. His vision blurred for a moment, the room tilting slightly as he gripped the edge of the bar for support. He swallowed hard, trying to fight back the rising bile in his throat.

No way. He wasn’t going to let it happen. Not here. Not now.

-

Houston’s resolve to push through the night grew more strained as the hours dragged on. Every time he bent to grab a glass or mixed a drink, his stomach clenched, reminding him that this wasn’t over. It was getting harder to ignore the nausea twisting and turning inside him, but he kept his expression neutral, not wanting to add more stress to Meadow and April. They didn’t need to worry about him on top of everything else. They trusted him to handle his shift, and he wasn’t about to let them down.

But as the minutes ticked by, his stomach felt more like a ticking time bomb, and every shift of his weight or sudden movement sent a wave of queasiness through him. His hands trembled slightly as he set down a drink in front of a customer, and he had to swallow hard to keep the rising nausea at bay.

“You okay, man?” Meadow’s voice cut through the fog in his head, her eyes flicking over him with concern.

Houston flashed her a tight smile, hoping it would be enough to convince her. “Yeah, I’m good. Just need to take my break soon.”

She didn’t press further, though her eyebrows knitted with worry. “Alright. Take it when you need to. I’ve got this covered.”

Houston nodded and moved on, trying to ignore how every step felt heavier than the last. By the time his break finally came, he felt like his stomach was barely holding itself together. He made his way to the back, his pace a little quicker than usual, hoping to get a moment to collect himself before things got worse. 

As soon as he entered the bathroom and closed the door, though, his body had other plans. The moment he locked the door behind him, the nausea surged forward, and for a moment, he thought he was going to throw up again. He hovered over the sink, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, waiting for the inevitable heave that would send him back into that miserable cycle of retching.

But it never came.

Instead, his stomach clenched painfully, and the nausea that had been gnawing at him all night shifted lower, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead as he realized what was happening. Food poisoning, or worse, a stomach bug. He could feel it now—the relentless ache deep in his gut, the urgent pressure that left him no choice but to sit down on the toilet, his hands gripping his knees as his body finally gave in.

The next fifteen minutes were hell.

Houston sat there, his head leaning back against the cool wall as his stomach twisted and churned, sending waves of cramps through his body. The worst part was that while the nausea had temporarily subsided, his body had traded one misery for another. He was too weak to fight it, his skin clammy and damp with sweat as he tried to brace himself through each painful spasm. His breath came in shaky, uneven bursts, and by the time it finally let up, he was left feeling even more drained than before.

When he finally stood up, his legs wobbled beneath him. His stomach hadn’t settled—it was just lying in wait, like a predator ready to pounce again. He washed his hands and splashed water on his face, but the coolness of the water did little to alleviate the heat radiating from his skin. As he stared at his reflection, he could see how pale and exhausted he looked—his cheeks flushed unnaturally, and there was a sheen of sweat glistening along his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he whispered to himself, gripping the edge of the sink as if to convince himself. “Just get through the shift.”

With a deep breath, he headed back out to the bar. Meadow was busy with a line of customers, and April was in the back handling inventory. Houston took his place behind the bar, doing his best to keep moving despite the tremors in his hands and the growing tightness in his stomach. He mixed drinks, smiled when necessary, and kept up with the orders, though it felt like he was running on fumes.

As the night wore on, it became harder to ignore the warning signs. His stomach was starting to twist again, a deep, unsettling nausea building with every passing moment. His muscles ached, and he could feel his temperature rising, the heat making his head swim. He knew he was close to his breaking point, but he wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet. 

Eventually, he couldn’t hide it any longer. The nausea hit him like a freight train, sudden and intense, and he knew there was no way he could stay behind the bar. He glanced at April, who was just finishing up a conversation with a supplier, and made his way over to her.

“April,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady, “can you cover for me for a few minutes? I just… I need to step away for a second.”

April glanced at him, her eyes narrowing in concern. “You okay? You look a little—”

“I’m fine,” Houston cut in, forcing a smile. “Just need to take a quick breather. Won’t be long, I promise.”

April hesitated, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of what was really going on, but after a moment, she nodded. “Go ahead. I’ve got it.”

Houston offered a grateful nod and made his way back to the bathroom as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. The moment he was inside, he locked the door and barely had time to make it to the toilet before his body gave in.

The retching was violent this time, each heave ripping through him with a force that left him gasping for air. He clung to the sides of the toilet, his knuckles white, as his stomach purged itself of what little was left. It was relentless, his body wracked with tremors as the nausea hit him over and over again, each wave leaving him weaker than the last. His breath came in ragged gasps, the sound of his quiet but strained retching filling the small bathroom.

By the time it finally subsided, Houston was left shaking, his forehead pressed against the cool porcelain as he tried to catch his breath. His muscles ached, his skin flushed and damp with sweat, and his stomach still twisted painfully beneath his ribs.

He was so caught up in his misery that he didn’t hear the soft knock on the door, nor the quiet creak as it opened. It wasn’t until he felt a gentle hand on his back that he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Houston…” Meadow’s voice was soft, filled with worry as she knelt beside him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Houston flinched at the sound of her voice, his body tensing as he lifted his head slightly, his eyes bleary and unfocused. “I didn’t want… didn’t want to cause trouble,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Meadow frowned, her hand moving in gentle circles on his back. “You’re not causing trouble. Look at you—you’re burning up.”

Houston’s brow furrowed in confusion, his mind too foggy to fully comprehend her words. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice was weak and shaky.

Meadow wasn’t convinced. She pressed her hand gently to his forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “You’ve got a fever,” she said softly, her worry deepening. “You shouldn’t be working like this.”

Houston shook his head, though the movement made the room spin dangerously. “I didn’t want… didn’t want to leave you and April short.”

Meadow sighed, her heart aching for him. “Houston, you’re more important than any shift. You should’ve told us.”

He didn’t respond, too exhausted to argue. His body was still trembling, his stomach churning painfully, but Meadow’s presence was a small comfort, her touch grounding him as she continued to rub his back.

“You need to go home and rest,” she said gently, her voice filled with quiet determination. “I’ll drive you if I have to.”

Houston leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. “I’ll be fine,” he murmured, though the weakness in his voice betrayed him.

Meadow shook her head. “You’re not fine, Houston. You’re burning up, and clearly you’ve been throwing up all night. You need to rest.”

He didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. His body felt heavy, drained from the relentless nausea and fever that had been plaguing him all day. He nodded weakly, the fight leaving him as he leaned into Meadow’s steady presence, grateful that she was there, even though he hadn’t wanted to worry her.

Meadow helped him up slowly, her arm around his waist as she guided him toward the back, determined to get him the care he needed.

-

Houston’s guilt weighed on him as Meadow helped him through the back of the tavern. Every step felt like a reminder that he was leaving April and Meadow in the lurch, and the thought twisted his already unsettled stomach into tighter knots. He’d never been one to bail on a shift, and now he was not only leaving early, but Meadow—who already had enough on her plate—was coming with him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered as they stepped outside, his voice raspy from the earlier vomiting. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t want to leave you two short.”

Meadow shook her head, glancing at him with a mix of concern and warmth as she unlocked her car. “Don’t even start with that,” she said softly, helping him into the passenger seat. “You’re sick, Houston. No one’s blaming you for taking care of yourself.”

“But April…” He leaned back, his head hitting the headrest, his face flushed from fever and guilt. “She’s gonna have to cover, and it’s a busy night—”

“I called in a couple of the others,” Meadow interrupted, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. “They’ll be here in no time. And if April asks, I’ll tell her I wasn’t feeling great and that you just left with me to help out. She won’t worry about it, trust me.”

Houston frowned, looking over at her through bleary eyes. “You shouldn’t have to cover for me like that.”

Meadow glanced at him as she backed out of the parking lot, her tone firm but kind. “I’m not covering for you. I’m helping you. There’s a difference.” She smiled softly, reaching over to give his knee a gentle squeeze. “Besides, you know April would worry too much if she knew how bad you were. This way, everyone’s covered, and we’ll get you home and feeling better.”

Houston let out a shaky breath, his stomach still churning, though not as violently as earlier. He didn’t have the energy to argue, and deep down, he knew Meadow was right. Still, the guilt gnawed at him. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice weak.

Meadow gave him a soft smile, her focus returning to the road as they drove in silence. Houston stared out the window, watching the familiar streets pass by, though his vision blurred from the fever. Every so often, his stomach would twist painfully, reminding him just how close he was to losing the fragile control he’d been hanging onto all night.

By the time they pulled into his driveway, Houston’s body was trembling with the effort it had taken to keep it together. His hands were shaking, his breaths shallow, and the nausea that had been lurking in the background surged forward with a vengeance. The moment the car stopped, he knew he wasn’t going to make it inside.

“Meadow, wait—” Houston barely managed to unbuckle his seatbelt before he fumbled with the door, throwing it open just in time to stagger out. He didn’t make it far. As soon as his boots hit the grass, his body lurched violently, and he doubled over, emptying his stomach into the lawn. 

Meadow was out of the car in a heartbeat, rushing to his side. She crouched beside him, one hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles as he continued to retch. “It’s okay,” she murmured softly, her voice soothing. “You’re okay, Houston. Just let it out.”

Houston heaved again, his body trembling as his stomach clenched painfully. The contents of his stomach hit the grass with a sickening splatter, but there was little left in him after the ordeal at the tavern. It was mostly dry heaves now, his body still trying to expel what wasn’t there. His hands gripped his knees tightly, and his breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to pull himself together.

Meadow stayed close, her presence grounding him as she continued to rub his back, her voice a quiet comfort in the haze of nausea and fever. “You’re doing great, Hous. Just breathe.”

He groaned softly between heaves, his voice hoarse. “I’m so...sorry…”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said gently, crouching beside him and keeping her hand steady on his back. “Just focus on getting through this. I’m right here.”

After what felt like an eternity, the heaving finally slowed, leaving Houston weak and shaking in the aftermath. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, his body trembling from the exertion. His skin was clammy, and he felt like he’d been wrung out, every muscle in his body aching from the violent retching.

Meadow stayed by his side, her hand still on his back as she spoke softly. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

Houston nodded weakly, too worn out to respond with anything more. With Meadow’s help, he managed to stand, though his legs wobbled beneath him. They made their way slowly toward the house, Meadow keeping a firm grip on his arm to steady him as they reached the front door.

Inside, the familiar warmth of his home greeted them, but Houston barely had the energy to appreciate it. His entire focus was on staying upright as Meadow guided him to the couch, where he collapsed with a groan, his body sinking into the cushions.

As soon as he was settled, there was a soft rustling sound from the corner of the room. A moment later, Houston’s black-and-white cat, Jack Daniel, padded into the room, his tail flicking curiously as he approached. Meadow smiled softly as she watched the cat hop up onto the couch, immediately curling up beside Houston, his purring loud and insistent.

“Looks like someone missed you,” Meadow said with a small smile, watching as Jack Daniel nuzzled against Houston’s arm.

Houston managed a weak chuckle, lifting a shaky hand to pet the cat. “He always knows when I’m not feeling great,” he muttered, his voice still rough from earlier.

Meadow watched them for a moment, her smile softening. “Smart cat,” she murmured, moving to grab a blanket from the chair and draping it over Houston. “You need to rest, okay? I’ll get you some water, and then you’re not moving from this couch.”

Houston nodded, too tired to argue. His body still ached, and the nausea hadn’t fully left, but the worst seemed to be over for now. He closed his eyes, his hand still resting on Jack Daniel’s soft fur as the cat purred quietly beside him. 

Meadow disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a glass of water and setting it down on the coffee table. She sat beside Houston, her hand resting gently on his arm. “You’re going to be alright,” she said softly, her voice full of quiet reassurance. “Just take it easy.”

Houston nodded, letting out a slow breath as he leaned back against the cushions. The fever still burned under his skin, making him feel heavy and weak, but with Meadow beside him and Jack Daniel curled up at his side, the worst of the panic and discomfort began to ease.

As the evening stretched on, Houston felt himself drifting in and out of a light, feverish sleep, but every time he stirred, Meadow was there—her presence steady, her hand occasionally resting on his arm to check on him, her voice always soft and comforting.

[vioartemis]

Too far

(Amber Freeman x Ghostface! fem! reader)

Summary: After Amber and you were forced to become the new Ghostface, you realize your happy end just slipped through your fingers as you snap at her Request are here (with more details here and here) and here :)) a/n: it's quite short I'm sorry, got stuck at the end not really knowing what to do... Warnings: Ghostface stuff (violence, blood, injuries, etc), angst, no happy end (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

"Let me get this straight. You met a guy on reddit, started talking because you agreed Stab 8 was shit, and now he wants to start a new killing spree and frame Tara's sister for the murders?" you asked your girlfriend as calmy as possible

"And if I don't help him, he said he would kill you..." she added, looking down with tears in her eyes "I'm so sorry Y/n..."

She looked miserable. You never saw her like that. It was not her type to cry or let others step on her. You were her only weakness. She would do everything in her power to make sur you were safe.

You were the only reason she accepted to become the new Ghostface. To keep you safe. But that meant that she was in danger now. Because the bad guys never win.

She was acting weird lately, you knew something was off. But you wouldn't have imagined something like that. The thought of your girlfriend killing people - even if it was to protect you - made you sick.

"Hey, it's okay" you pulled her in for a hug "Telling me about it was the right thing to do. We're going to figure that out together, okay?"

Amber wrapped her arms around you and held you close, burying her face in the crook of your neck and apologizing all over again. She knew she fucked up and felt guilty about it.

"I'm so sorry..." she repeated "You're probably wishing you never had met me..."

"Of course not my love... I would never wish for that... You're the best thing that happened in my life..." you kissed her to wipe her worries away "Listen, here's what we're going to do... tell him we will help him"

"We? Wait no Y/n- I don't want yo to get hurt. That's too dangerous you can't- I don't want you to become a criminal because of me..."

"Amber, my love. It will be fine, I won't expose myself. I'll help you with the technical issues"

I was, in fact, not going to be fine. Taking care of 'technical issues' wasn't enough for Richie. He would force you to kill, threatening you to hurt your girlfriend and you if you didn't.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

That was it. Everyone was dead, including Richie. It was finally over. You were alone with Amber, in her house, both covered in blood.

You should be happy that it was over, but you couldn't take your eyes away from your friend's body. Tara's body. You felt like she was looking at you, her dark brown eyes wide opened in shock. Dead. Because of you.

You had flashbacks of Wes, how afraid he looked when you sunk your blade in his throat. How he begged you to let him live. How he would never know his mom was dead too.

You thought you would throw up immediately. It was a pure torture. Seeing him looking at you like that, terrified, crying for help. Every time you closed your eyes you could see him. Dead. In front of you.

How Judy died thinking her son was dead because she wasn't here in time. How she sounded when you called her. The panic in her voice, how it was shaking when you told her you gutted Wes. How you stomach twisted uncomfortably at the lie you told her.

How all your friends looked at you after the 'big reveal'. After you betrayed them all. How Tara begged you to untie her after Amber locked her in her closet. How she still had hope that you might change your mind and help her.

How she looked at you when you aimed at her with the gun, tears in her eyes, pleading you to stop. To spare her. How her eyes got wide when you told her you couldn't, voice shaking, tears rolling down your cheeks.

How the realization hit her. Her lips were trembling, she couldn't look at you anymore. She knew she was going to die of your hands before you even pulled the trigger.

And Sam's desperate scream after you shot her sister before her eyes... How it broke your heart to see her like that, knowing she couldn't protect the one she loved the most.

Protect the one she loved the most... That was what got you in this situation in the first place. You never wanted that. You never thought it would go like that. It was not supposed to go like that.

Amber and you were supposed to give Richie to the police with evidence. But she got scared. She thought you would've had problems too, being his accomplices, even if he forced you.

She told you it would be better to find another solution. Frame him for all the murders, not reveal yourselves with him. You trusted her. But her plan didn't work out.

None of this shit plan worked out.

She swore you wouldn't get hurt. She swore she made him promise nothing would happen to you.

But he stabbed you. Three times. And Gale shot you in the leg. And Sidney smashed a bottle in your face, leaving you with a deep cut on the left side of your face, going through your eye. You would probably never see with this eye again.

You had no idea how you were still conscious. You were so tired. The only thing you wanted to do was lay down and close your eyes.

Too caught up in your thoughts, you didn't hear Amber come up to you, until she entered your field of vision.

"Are you okay...?"

"Am I okay...? Am I okay...? Of course I'm not okay!"

You flinched when she tried to put her hand on your arm and took a step back.

"Don't touch me."

Now it was her turn to flinch at the tone of your voice.

"All of this-" you gestured toward the corpses around you, including your own wounds "-it's your fault. All. Of. This."

"Y... you don't mean it, right...?"

"Oh yes I mean it. Everything is your fault, Amber. If you never talked to him-"

"But you know he forced me...!" the way her voice broke should have told you to stop here. But you didn't.

"-if you stuck to the plan we wouldn't be here! You swore I wouldn't get hurt. You swore I wouldn't have to kill anyone! And look where we are! I killed my friends! For you! Because I got caught up in this stupid shit! Because of you!"

Your voice became more and more louder as your rage built up.

"I got stabbed three fucking times! And I will probably never see properly again! All that for what? For what huh? Tell me for what I did all this shit?!" you were yelling now, tears and blood blurring your vision "For you! Because I didn't want to let you alone! Because I thought we would get out of this before it got out of control! Because we had a fucking plan! A plan that you fucked up because you were too scared we would have had minor problems!"

"Baby... please stop..." She was crying now. Each one of your words felt like a stab wound directly in her heart "I- I love you so much I..."

"Well I fucking hate you!" you huffed, lips curling up into a smile - not a joyful one. "I don't even know why I stayed after you told me! I should have run away when I could. I should have listened to them. The others. Everyone. They warned me before we got together. They told me you were no good for me. But I didn't listen. I thought they were wrong about you. Turns out they were fucking right."

"Y/n..."

"You fucking ruined my life! I wish I never had met you."

Your tirade over, you took a moment to breathe, heart beating fast in your chest. You stumbled, and sat on the stairs, not giving her a single look. She didn't dare to look at you either.

She felt so empty, like you ripped her heart out of her chest and stabbed it, stepped on it, ran over it with a semi-trailer. She let herself fall to the ground, back against a wall. You waited for the ambulances and the police in this heavy silence.

When they took you to one of the cars, you were crying. Not even faking it. Real tears.

You didn't mean half of what you said to her. Even if you were angry - terribly angry - you could never hate her. You probably should, given what just happened. A part of you did hate her. But the other one was still desperately in love with her.

Maybe you went too far. Like this shitty situation. And exactly like it, it's too late to go back now. Even if you wanted to.

But you had to. It was the best thing you could do. For her.

It would be easier to go if she hated you. Easier for her to make a fresh start after. But god did it hurt... Telling her all this shit, knowing it would break her...

You lost too much blood, you knew it. It was a miracle you were still alive. You fought so hard to stay conscious during the last thirty minutes... but now you could let go.

The way Richie twisted the knife in your stomach probably damaged important organs, and the bullet in your thigh and the cut on your face didn't help. You had glass in your eye. Taking it out would probably kill you.

But it was okay. She was okay - physically at least. You were going to die, but she would be fine. There was no doubt she hated you right now. You hoped she did.

"It was the right thing to do, right...?" you whispered in the oxygen mask, as you felt yourself getting weaker

You felt tears rolling on your face. Your throat hurt. Your heart was in pieces. You regretted telling her all this shit. You just wanted to hold her before going. Just once.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it... I love you so much..." you murmured

As you started to slowly lose consciousness, your moments together flashed before your eyes; the first time you saw her, your first date, first kiss, her smile, her laugh, her sometimes questionable humor... her soft lips on yours, her hands slipping under your shirt, cold fingers caressing your skin...

She loved kissing you like that. You did too. You wished you could kiss like that one more time.

You wished things ended up differently.

She really was the best thing that happened to you. You wished you would have the chance to meet her again in your next life.

[magnoliabutters]

• AS YOU WISH •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; vampire related violence & gore, trigger warning - possible hints of s-h; how does miss britney say it? toxic, anxiety, heavy make out sesh, lack of proof reading, etc.

word count: ~2.5k

stories of eddie munson series •  season two • 

note: my apologies for the wait my loves! we love a depressive episode + getting sick. the creative juices struggle to flow, but ii hope this does the trick. thank you so much for your patience 💗

Your hand grips tightly onto his wrist, dragging him towards the other room. Kas, however, has other plans. Despite your strength, he effortlessly pulls your fingers off of him. His smile filling his face. “Hold on, little one,” he says playfully. You turn towards him in confusion and shock. Your heart racing in your chest. Anger bubbling within you. Betrayal - there’s nothing worse than betrayal.

“I still need breakfast,” he says as he licks his lips. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning his shoulder against the wall. Just like that, you are reminded that the person before you is not only someone you do not trust, but is someone you have barely met. The looks may fool you, but the man before you is not at all safe.

You let out a calm breath as your body and muscles instinctually tighten. Abruptly, your mind chooses flight and rushes you towards a window. Kas laughs as he races behind you. His hands atop your waist before your fingers even reach the latch. He pulls you back against him as tears fall from your eyes. “Please don’t do it again,” you beg through your sobbing. Fear shooting throughout your head, painful messages to run away as fast as you can.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad, darlin’,” he whispers. His hand brushing your hair back behind your shoulder, exposing your neck once more. You push against his grasp once more, only to be met with his standing force. With a lack of effort, you mutter, “Please, you don’t have to do this.” A smile hasn’t left Kas’ face since you ran. He gently leans his head down into the crook of your neck. His lips press softly against your skin. You shudder at his touch. Your eyes water as you firmly close them shut.

Another kiss is pressed against your neck. You feel his cold breath against your skin. “You taste like honey,” he whispers against your ear. You swiftly lose your breath as your hand balls into a fist. “You’re delicious,” he murmurs as his hand slides up your stomach. Flashes of Eddie, the true Eddie, spring to your mind. He is the only one who touched you like this, will touch you like this.

Kas quickly spins you around. A gasp escapes you as you still quiver at his touch. Your eyes meeting his as his fingers dig into your waistline. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he says as he watches the fear spread across your face. “There’s no reason to be scared.” He pulls you close, close enough where your chin crashes against the top of his collar bone. His arms wrapped around your hips. His mouth once again hovering over your neck. His tongue slides up your skin. You try your best not to shake. You try your best to pretend it doesn’t leave butterflies in your stomach.

“Just a tiny bite,” he whispers playfully. “No,” you attempt to say sternly, only for it to come out as a tremble. “Just one,” he says as he kisses your skin once more. “No, Kas,” you reply. This time with more confidence to your voice. He pulls away at the sudden display of strength. His confused eyes upon you as you stare him down. “I said ‘no,’” you repeat calmly. His eyes rake over your face. A small glint of a smirk upon the right side of his mouth. “Yes, darlin’,” he says without missing a beat. “As you wish.”

Kas lets go of you, taking a step back. With his arms ripped from you, you catch your body reaching back out to him. A clear disconnect with your mind. “Okay,” you mutter with a shaky breath as you brush off your clothes. Brushing him off. “Are we ready to go now?” you ask, with an annoyed tone. “Yup,” he says playfully as he walks past you to the front door. He holds it open for you with a huge smile across his face. “Time to get me some breakfast.”

“What?” you ask incredulously. Kas laughs as he waves for you to walk through the threshold. “If you’re not going to give it up, then I’m going to have to find breakfast elsewhere,” he shares. “Not like I can find Henderson on an empty stomach, common now.” Those shudders began again. Finally, your body remembers the danger before it.

“Don’t be jealous, little bird,” he softly says as he walks towards you. His fingers deep into your hair as his palm caresses your cheek. “You’ll be begging for me to bite you sooner or later,” he whispers. His hand quickly travels from the side of your head and squeezes your cheeks at your chin. He plants a rather bland kiss against your cheek, yelling “mwuah” as he floats back towards the door.

You stand in shock. You hate each reminder thrown your way that Eddie is gone. Every time you look at the hollowed being before you and recognize that the chocolate eyes looking back at your are dead. You missed Eddie. You missed him more than anything in your life. He was everything to you. But now he’s gone. And you don’t even have the luxury of having that being consistent. No, you just have a demon inhabiting his body - reminding you each day that the happiness you once had will never return. “Let’s go, princess,” Kas whines. “I’m hungry.” You follow his lead through the doorway.

Kas waltzes ahead, his movements ethereal. His excitement spreads in each of his steps. His curly hair bouncing as he skips over the blackened veins. He points to each as he walks over them. You note how cautious he is. How careful he is that you do not step on these disgusting vines. Tempting, maybe a way out. Something to distract with. But his smile… shit, his smile keeps drawing your attention. How could it have gotten cuter? The pointed canines act as a cherry on the cake. You shake your head, pushing the thought away.

“Darlin’,” he starts as he points over to the right. You follow him in confusion. Your eyes widen in horror as you see a trench glowing bright orange. It’s depth unfathomable. It rests on your old park playground. You watch in horror as half of the monkey bars are melted off. The seasaw no longer in its place. You would imagine it would be deep in the heat by now. Another memory destroyed before your very eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Kas asks as his face comes into view. His brows pull together, almost as though he is concerned. It’s confusing to say the least. “Why did you show me this?” you ask, on the verge of tears. “Isn’t it cool?” he asks. His excitement pulling his attention. “It looks like it goes all the way to the earth’s core.” His eyes grow wide as he walks closer to the ripped ground. “There’s gotta be lava and shit. I can feel the heat from here,” he whispers as he puts his hands out to warm them up.

“Reminds me of Mr. Burnham’s class,” he says with a chuckle. His words catch your attention as you hold your breath. “He always said there’d be a layer of fire underneath our feet,” he mutters. One side of his smile pulls, as he turns back to you. “I always used to get so high before his class,” he chuckles out. “Made science way more interesting.” You watch him, careful in your next few words. The back and forth between remembering and not is difficult to follow, let alone a minefield seeing as he continues to become upset by it.

“I used to have a science teacher named Mr. Burnham too,” you say softly as you walk up beside him. His mouth returns to flat line with brows pulled together as he processes your words. You decide to peer over the ledge, instinctually grabbing his hand. You feel his eyes on you like daggers as you pull away, raising your hands defensively. Slowly, the smile re-emerges. A weight lifts off your chest. “Must be a common name,” he whispers back with a sigh.

Kas grabs hold of your wrist, running you over across the desolate street. Only a few vines to skip over this time. You see flecks in the dense air. Your mind worries if you should be breathing this in. However, that should probably be the last thing on your mind. Before you knew it, you were in front of the classic Alberta’s diner. A ‘50’s diner where most of your popular schoolmates went. The new arcade was more your style.

However, you could barely recognize it. It’s clean, chipper walls now black, green, and white. The vines entangled it from head to toe. Mold seeping out from each one of Vecna’s veins. You watch as the black roots pour over the high top tables. How they flow into the kitchen, holding the doors permanently open. You wouldn’t dare take a step forward. Not a clear path in site.

“You coming,” Kas says, hoping over a vine and holding his hand out to you. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” You swallow as you slowly place your foot on the other end of the blackened death root. His bottom lip pouts looking at his hand still held out. You are too focused on not stepping on them that you didn’t happen to notice. You begin to sweat, I really cautious in where your foot lands, what your shin may brush against. The pressure building your chest burns with anxiety. Something you could have looked to Eddie for help with. Not anymore.

Kas carefully guides you back to the kitchen. Oddly, the stove and surrounding has been cleared of the darkness. It stands out amongst all the black. A perfectly cleaned stove top. Conveniently unusual. He watches your confused expression as you try to make sense of the scene before you. “I cleared it out,” he laughs. “Man’s gotta eat,” he says as he pats his stomach. He then grabs a bag of some mixture and shakes it your way. “Pancakes. Did you want some?” he asks innocently.

“You eat pancakes?” you ask in disbelief. Kas smiles, his sharpened teeth poking out just below his upper lip. “Hell yeah,” he answers with a bit of a chuckle. "Love 'em." He begins to pour the mixture into a bowl. He digs into his pocket and pulls out two eggs. He smiles once more, then kisses one of the eggs as he laughs your way. "If you eat pancakes, why were you trying to drink my blood?" you ask with hands to your hips. You cannot, will not forget the fear you felt this morning. The fear he made you feel from the face of a man whom you loved before. Unforgivable.

Kas laughs once more as he begins to mix the bowl. "Have you ever heard of a joke?" he says carelessly. His smile can only take him so far. You feel your heart sink as you try your best to keep your bottom lip from trembling. Instead, you fall against the kitchen wall. You grab hold of the side of a table as your head drops forward in dismay. "You alright?" he says with concern as he places the mixing bowl down. You nod with tears in your eyes. Thankful that your hair is covering your face.

"I'm alright," you whisper in response. Kas' brows pull together in distrust. However, he returns to mixing the bowl nonetheless. He pours them over the heated stove. "These first two are for you, darlin'," he says under his breath. You turn to look at him. Suddenly, a pain in your stomach at the smell of the cakes cooking. He turns behind him to open a cabinet and grab chocolate chips. He places his hand within the bag, only retrieving a handful before gently dropping them onto the pancakes.

He flips the little cakes as you stand, glaring at the floor. "I'm sorry," he says softly. His eyes still on the stove, not daring to move. You turn to him, unsure if you heard his words correctly. "When I saw you, I didn't know what to think. I just wanted you, all of you," he continues. "You were the first real person I have ever seen. You were - are beautiful. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Your eyes raise towards him. The sweet face returns. Those innocent, brown, chocolate eyes that you loved so much. The brunette curls that round his perfect face. You remembered him - your Eddie, your beautiful Eddie, in that moment. Maybe he wasn't gone. Maybe there was hope.

You let out a soft breath as your mind continues to reel. "Kas," you call out. Kas' eyes flick towards you. You take a slow step forward as your hand trails against the counter beside the stove. Finally, your eyes reach his. Your heart skips a beat, as you convince yourself that Eddie is here. That the man before you is Eddie. Your hand slowly raises to his cheek. The sensation clearly unfamiliar to him as he initially pulls from your palm but slowly leans into it.

"You don't know how good you were," you whisper as your thumb gently rubs against his cheek. His confusion rests within the furrow of his brows. "You were gentle, beautiful, kind, extraordinary," you say as you stare deep into his eyes. "I loved you before I even knew your name." You let out another breath as you bite your lip. Slowly, you lean into him, landing your lips against his perfect mouth.

Your eyes close as you feel the softest lips, the lips you have known so well. His hands reach your waist, pulling you closer. They quickly explore your back, digging into the skin of your shoulder blades. Before you knew it, your arms were around his neck - refusing to let him go from this kiss. A kiss you never intend to end. A kiss you would not dare stop because, fuck, you do not want to lose him again. A kiss so familiar, yet so different. It may be Eddie, but this being before you is also Kas. A confusing jumble of the two.

Kas presses his tongue against your lips. You part your lips as you pull him further in. You cannot help the moan that leaves your body as he grips deeper against your body. The fire between you two burning deep, no matter the fact that you have both just met. An underlying fact beneath the pain, fear, and turmoil you have endured since finding stepping into the hollowed shell of your hometown.

He quickly drops his hands past your ass and against the backs of your thighs. With a swift movement, he pulls your legs up and places you harshly against the counter. His hands flood into your hair as you bite into his kiss. His own teeth biting against your lip, leaving subtle hints of blood and enjoyable pain within the embrace. You moan once more, leading to him growling against your mouth. In this moment, you would give him anything - everything. Just to have a single moment with Eddie Munson again.

What you did not intend was jus that. Kas wanted everything, and he would not settle for anything less.

note: ruh-row. what's going to happen next...

next part • return of the boy •

taglist: @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @bbyhargrove, @hiscrimsonangel

comment on any series posts or message to be added to the taglist! 🫢♥️

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[autisticlenaluthor]

To your point about Ibuprofen, I could so see Lena being raised with the understanding that her period wasn’t something she should take time off of work or school for, especially from Lillian, so that’s what she thinks. And Kara (and maybe Alex) are the ones who change that for her. Or work on changing it.

this has literally been sitting in my inbox for months im so sorry I never responded !!

I completely agree, lena would've always been shamed for asking to miss school or galas, events, etc. growing up if it were because she was having cramps (and just in general). Lillian always told her to suck it up, that everyone has cramps, she just needs to learn to deal with it. so lena goes through life believing that her period is supposed to be That Painful

normally, lena's cramps are like a 8/10 on a good day.it takes her hours to fall asleep, she can hardly focus, and no matter how she sits, stands, or lies down, she's in constant pain. moving to find new positions only makes it worse. but even so, she hardly ever misses work due to her period.

she'd only ever call out if she physically couldn't work and even then, she'd try to push through until she's literally dry heaving on the floor of her offices bathroom.

that's how kara finds out.

she's supposed to be meeting lena at L Corp for lunch but when she gets there, Lena isn't in her office. kara wanders aimlessly for a second, before noticing the bathroom door is open. that's where she finds lena, sweating and shaking, clutching her stomach, and trying not to throw up.

of course, kara thinks she's dying. because this is Lena, she never gets sick. and when she is sick, nobody knows it. kara's pretty sure lena could get shot, pull the bullet out with two fingers, patch the hole up with a bandaid, and still make her 11am meeting if that was what it came to. so naturally, she starts freaking out. asking if lena's okay and telling her she'll take her to the emergency room.

but lena shakes her head and forces a pained smile and says "kara, I'm fine, it's just my period."

and kara, does not take that. because HOW is this fine? lena looks like what she imagines death would if it took a human form. so she sits on the floor beside her and asks if she's taken anything for the pain and lena pauses, looking confused and says no.

kara tells her she should but lena just can't. even though it feels like her stomach is turning itself inside out and like her uterus has blown up three times it's normal size. even though she's shivering and sweating at the same time and her hands haven't stopped trembling in hours. she's supposed to be able to suck it up. because everyone feels like this. almost all women get their periods and they all manage to keep living their lives, so lena should be able to too.

all kara can do is convince lena to come home early. mostly because lena's too exhausted and too nauseous to protest.

but even once they're back in Lena's apartment, she refuses to take anything. because she doesn't need it. she can't need it.

---

because lena has exceptional luck, her period sticks around for seven more days. each one as painful as the first. she stays home with kara and after day 3, works remotely as much as she can (her first time ever taking off for more than a few days. her first time taking off because of her period).

she stays in her pajamas all day and lets kara pamper her with stuffed animals, chocolate, ice cream, heating pads and when the heating pad dies, a hot water bottle. lena can't even describe the guilt she feels whenever kara offers to grab her a snack or refill her water for her. she's convinced she's taking advantage of her -- she's being horrible and needy and so weak.

because sure she's in pain but what does it matter? this pain is normal. so she needs to stop whining, get it together, and act like a god damn adult.

she apologizes constantly. every time she lets out a whimper or moan because her legs have started tingling or her head throbbing, she mumbles a small 'sorry' for the disturbance.

but kara is never bothered. she doesn't call lena dramatic or tell her she's over reacting. she just goes with it.

and of course, continues to recommend lena take something for the pain.

"if you broke your leg you'd take Advil," she says one night. they're sitting on the couch together, under a shared blanket pile, while the TV runs old sitcoms. "Why is this different?"

lena purses her lips and frowns, knowing if she broke her leg she probably wouldn't take an Advil, but that that isn't the point.

"because it just is," she says instead. "I'm supposed to be able to handle this. it isn't that bad."

"Says who?"

lena shrugs.

"Lillian."

kara sighs and makes a face but agrees to drop it, at least for now.

---

on day four, things are especially bad.

lena woke up at 4am with full body shivers, practically drenched in sweat. she stayed, bent over the toilet bowl, vomiting out everything she'd eaten in the past week until six, when kara found her asleep, curled up on the bathroom floor.

when lena woke up again, a folded towel had been slipped under her head and a blanket covered her body. kara is sitting over by the door, gently stroking her palm.

Lena makes a small noise to let her know she's awake, too tired to actually sit up, and smiles when kara looked over at her. she hesitates for a second. the concern in kara's eyes is so evident and for once, lena can't try brushing it off. she can't gaslight herself into thinking this is just how it is, because never before in her life, has she ended up unconscious from cramps.

so she musters up the courage to swallow her pride and quietly say "maybe it would help. if I took something."

kara is so shocked, she almost doesn't respond.

"are you sure?" she asks. "I don't want you to feel pressured. or make you take something you don't want to take."

"no, you're good," lena tells her. "but I think... maybe I need to start taking your advice."

[earlgreydream]

after.

| loki x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. loki, but he's so rough during sex, it hurts, and aftercare is absolute bliss afterwards? & AFTERCARE WITH LOKI 

a/n: I’m combining these requests. love dom!loki and soft!loki

cw: dark!loki, sliiiiight dubcon (consensual), aggression, general rough smut, spanking, light anal play, brief exhibitionism, mild degradation, implied subspace, etc

“Are you about done acting out?” Loki asked you, his lips just below your ear, sending chills down your spine. You were sat on his lap on the throne, and you’d spent the last hour or so grinding against him while he was trying to have important meetings with Thor and the royal guard.

“I don’t think so,” you confessed, biting back a smile. You were enjoying riling him up, getting revenge for the many times Loki had tortured and teased you. 

“My darling, my patience with your disobedience is wearing thin,” Loki warned, and you rolled back, putting significant pressure on his rock-hard length below you.

Loki made a throaty noise, and Thor cut off mid-sentence. 

“Continue, brother,” Loki ordered, and Thor gave the two of you a look before he continued speaking. Loki’s hands gripped your waist, trying to keep you from squirming and rubbing your ass against him. 

“If you do not stop, I will fuck you on this throne in front of this entire room of people. You want to be seen acting like a whore so bad, I’ll let you.”

His words echoed down your spine, and your face heated, a visible blush spreading across your skin. You felt his dark laughter against your back, pleased with the way the threat suddenly turned you shy.

His knees pushed your legs apart and you were shaking your head, pleading soft apologies to Loki. Your confidence and deviance crumbled, and you were weak at his fingertips. You very suddenly came to regret your actions, and Loki hummed against your shoulder, warning you against trying to close your legs.

Thor kept speaking, but his eyes narrowed as Loki’s hand moved to your front, very openly cupping your sex in your skirt, in front of everyone. Your skin was burning, the heat spreading over your body in a blazing fire of need and embarrassment.

“Loki...” you whimpered, and he hushed you. Thor tripped over his words as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at Thor watching Loki play with you. You knew what to say to stop Loki, but you couldn’t, because a sick part of you was secretly enjoying this.

A strangled whimper escaped you as Loki pushed his fingers forward particularly hard. Thor stopped speaking completely, watching Loki’s glistening fingers slide in and out of your soaked pussy. You hadn’t worn any panties under your dress, wanting to work Loki up as much as possible.

Truly, you hadn’t expected to be punished like this. Loki wasn’t often a fan of public humiliation, but seeing how wet it made you, and how you suddenly got shy and obedient was all the convincing it took.

You bit your lip fiercely, struggling to keep from squealing and crying out. Loki mouthing along your neck, whispering filthy things in your ear about Thor watching you get your pussy filled with his fingers, didn’t help you stay quiet and still.

“Loki, please,” you were begging, what for, you weren’t sure.

“Please what, little one?” Loki was going to make you work for it. Your whole body tensed as the coil tightened in your belly, Loki’s fingers stroking the spot that had your mind shutting down.

“I need to come,” your plea came out much louder than intended, but it made no difference, everyone in the room had their eyes locked on you since this started.

“Go on then, scream my name to all of our subjects, let them know who you belong to.”

The coil snapped and you orgasmed with a scream, Loki’s name echoing through the high ceilings of the throne room. Your legs were shaking and you grabbed his forearms to steady yourself, your release dripping down your thighs and onto Loki’s lap.

A high pitched shriek was ripped from you when Loki slapped your sensitive core, and you jolted from the sting. Even Thor flinched slightly, and your breath caught in your throat as he spanked your pussy a second time, drawing out your humiliation and adding pain to the punishment. Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, and Loki mocked your embarrassment.

“Shy, little one? You didn’t seem so shy when you were misbehaving all evening.”

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and draping you over his shoulder. Your skirt was still flipped up, revealing your ass and slick, swollen cunt to everyone you walked by. The tears were now falling freely, and you squirmed helplessly.

Loki slapped where your ass met the back of your thigh, leaving a handprint, the sound bouncing off of the walls. You cried out in pain as he squeezed the area before carrying you through the throne room.

“We’ll have to finish this meeting later!” Loki called after himself, parading you through the halls as he took you to his chambers. When you started to speak to apologize, he spanked you, not wanting to hear it.

Loki practically threw you on the bed, and he tore off your dress, leaving you naked. His own clothes vanish in a glimmer of green, and you were caught under his sadistic, predatory gaze.

“On your knees,” Loki commanded, and you scrambled to obey, kneeling before him as he leaned against a golden wall. Magic bound your hands behind your back, and the tip of Loki’s cock brushed your lips.

“If you resist me, I’ll let Thor use your mouth next,” Loki threatened, getting you to immediately open your mouth so he could slip inside.

His pale fingers threaded into your hair and found a grip, holding you steady as he fucked your throat. Tears rolled down your cheeks faster than before, and all you could do was kneel before your king and take him. You did your best to please him, hollowing your cheeks and humming around him, trying to get him to come faster. You were choking and unable to breathe, and the feeling of your struggle had Loki coming in hot ribbons down your throat, shooting his seed straight into your tummy.

You gasped for air, heaving oxygen into your lungs when he pulled out, your head dropping forward as you caught your breath.

“You will not disobey me again.” Loki smacked your cheek lightly and you immediately answered.

“No, Loki.”

His hand wrapped around your arm and he lifted you to your feet, your hands becoming free from the bonds. You thought you were free until he hauled you onto the bed, your wrists being secured to the headboard as you laid on your stomach. Fear prickled up your spine, knowing your punishment wasn’t over.

You’d learned your lesson about teasing Loki and being disobedient, and after this you swore to yourself you’d never do it again.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” your voice was quiet, and Loki looked at you silently.

“Pull your knees to your chest,” he ordered, and you did so before letting your head fall back down onto the duvet.

He stared at you, bent over and exposed for him, prolonging your anxious anticipation. He moved behind you, out of your view. You felt the bed dip behind you, Loki kneeling on the bed, his hands resting on your hips for a moment. He traced the red handprint on your ass, making you twitch slightly at the touch.

Something cold and made of metal slid through your folds, making you jump.

“I’ll slap you if you move again,” Loki’s tone was stern, and you held still, wondering what the tear-shaped object was for. He gathered your arousal on it, and you jerked your hands fruitlessly against the magic as he pressed it lightly to your tight ring of muscle.

Barely a second passed before his hand connected with your skin, leaving another stinging handprint on your backside.

“I’m sorry, I don’t need it, I’ll behave,” you promised, stumbling over your words as you weakly protested the metal being slowly pushed into your ass.

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to see your pretty hole stretch around this gold plug,” Loki’s voice dripped with sadistic pleasure, sending shivers through your body.

You hid your face in the duvet, fighting not to squirm away as he slowly pressed it inside of you. The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable, and incredibly shameful. Your body betrayed you, displaying your cunt growing wetter as Loki eased it all the way inside of you. A choked whine of pain tumbled from your lips, but you didn’t use your safe word. You hated the feeling of being stretched but you knew you deserved it for your misbehavior, and you didn’t want to object to Loki.

He leaned back on his heels and admired you, the gold peeking out of your slightly trembling body. He watched you shake from a mixture of embarrassment, discomfort, overstimulation, and utter and complete ecstasy, a devious smile pulling at his lips.

He was painfully hard again, and he very much intended to tear you up before forgiving your transgressions. His anger has now faded, though he was enjoying scaring you a healthy amount. He enforced his rules, and taught you what happened when you disobeyed.

You knew he wouldn’t be merciful and let you off, and you were thankful he’d let you come at his fingers, even if it was in the presence of the throne room.

You laid in front of Loki, moaning loudly as he fucked into you with one thrust. Your muscles burned as they stretched to try to accommodate his size, but he offered no reprieve before snapping his hips against yours, railing you. He pushed on the gold, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your mind melted from the sensation of being painfully full.

You couldn’t help but cry as Loki brutally fucked you, abusing your aching core as he hit your cervix, buried deeper in you than you thought possible. You were choking on oxygen, your mind completely empty as you took him in, searching for pleasure.

The pain of how hard he was fucking you had tears flowing thick down your cheeks and choked whimpers escaping you. Loki brought a hand around to your clit, taking pity on you and giving you some relief to the sharp pain. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, taking me so well, like a good, obedient slut,” Loki finally offered you some praise, even if it was slightly degrading.

The words soothed over your fright, and your eyes rolled back as he slammed into you, your mind fading. His thrusts became less rhythmic, his hips stuttering. You were familiar with the feeling, and in a few seconds, you felt him spill into you, pumping you full of his release and coating your aching walls with the sticky white seed. You sighed softly in relief as he pulled the metal from you, tossing it aside. He slowly eased out of your sex, his magic dissolving the bonds on your wrists.

You fell limp once you were no longer restrained, and Loki admired your fucked-out body. Your mind was cloudy and a shudder wracked your body as you adjusted to the sudden relief.

“Little one,” Loki spoke softly, the usual gentleness returning to his voice. His hands smoothed gently up your back, green sparks penetrating into your muscles and dissolving some of the ache. 

You hummed weakly, acknowledging Loki calling out his term of endearment for you. Your breath caught as he flipped you onto your back, and you winced as the aching between your legs became a painful throb, the endorphins wearing off.

“Let me see those pretty eyes,” Loki’s fingers tenderly brushed over your cheek, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. 

“We’re going to get you cleaned up, alright? It’s over now,” Loki leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and hugging him. 

“I need you to speak, darling.”

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice raspy from Loki brutalizing your throat. He laughed softly, kissing your cheek and wiping the remaining tears that were staining your skin.

“I love you more than all of the stars.”

You whimpered as he lifted you, carrying to into the basin and stepping in with you. The warm water engulfed your body, filled with salts and oils from the finest markets of Asgard. Loki rested you against his broad chest, careful of your muscles. 

He lifted a glass from a small table next to the tub, putting it to your lips and urging you to drink the water. You ignored the soreness in your throat and leaned back against Loki’s stable body, swallowing the contents of the glass. Loki took his time cleaning you up, gently lathering your body with sweet-scented soaps. 

He massaged your head as he washed your hair, brushing his fingers through the locks. You’d been turned around for that, your forehead resting on his shoulder as he worked shampoo and conditioner through your hair. He’d pestered you to eat some of the grapes from a bowl nearby, kissing your forehead and praising you. 

“I’m sorry for teasing,” you apologized softly, and Loki gently adjusted you so you were looking up at him. He tilted your chin up, gazing down at you with love and lightly pecking your lips before speaking.

“I’m not angry. You don’t need to be sorry anymore,” he promised, holding you in his arms, trying to snap you out of your foggy headspace.

You protested to being lifted out of the bath, and Loki hushed you gently, drying you off and helping you into silk clothing. Your legs were weak and you held onto Loki’s arms as you stood by the hearth. He helped you onto the lounger, snuggling you into his chest and handing you a piece of bread with honey drizzled over it. You ate it and curled up into your warm lover, basking in his attention as he cared for you. He lifted a book from the table and began to read to you, his smooth voice lulling you into dreams. He pressed into your mind, filling your head with sweet thoughts and guarding you against nightmares. 

He listened to your steady heartbeat as he played with your hair and the fabric draped over your body. He loved how sweet and cuddly you got after sex, blissed-out and your mind empty except for a desire to be close to him. He adored you, and everything about you, and these moments of closeness were his favorite. 

[sxlver-sweet]

Okay ooc arba so imagine when takemitchy time leap again he saw an unfamilliar girl and when she started appearing, the timeline suddenly changed?? But she got closed to toman, and her and takemithy are close but not that quite cause takemitchy is hesistant. But when the timeline is slowly changing and everyone is being saved getting their happy endings, like hina is alive, emma and draken getting married, etc. She just vanished and they all found out the news that she died?

–🎴

oh my god stop stop stop this made me so sAD but i loVE IT.

all i can think about is the aftermath of toman receiving the news of her untimely demise. all i can think about is how they all just stand there, minds blank with shock as they struggle to process the fact that her of all people had somehow become entangled in a web of obscurity and foul play that resulted in her bloated body being hauled out of a river. all i can think about is how takemichi automatically starts blaming himself for not noticing that her disappearance was oddly timed—the day after emma and draken's wedding, actually—and for not catching on to the signs of endangerment that he's certain she must have been exhibiting. all i can think about is the sick, gaping abyss of dread that yawns in takemichi's stomach as he recounts his interactions with her dating back to the first time she became entwined with the fate of toman. all i can think about is how his hands begin to tremble and his eyes well up with tears as he notices a common thread winding through each major conflict and issue that he faced.

she always knew.

he didn't know how, but she just did.

it was evident in the way she stroked mikey's hair as he finally crumbled and spilled tears into the grass swaying against their ankles, his motorcycle leaned against her thigh as she bore the weight of both toman's leader and the burden of his bloodstained past. it was evident in the unwavering gentleness in her eyes as she foretold a future of suffering and shallow pleasure that would undoubtedly unravel before mikey's very eyes, a revelation that takemichi was only aware of because he didn't trust mikey's deteriorating mental stability when he departed from a meeting with a mumbled, dull dismissal of needing to "take a drive." it was evident in the way she yanked emma into her side to shelter her from what would have been a tragic end, consequently enduring a blow from a wooden bat that shattered her own shoulder and left her in a sling for months to come. it was evident in the way she collapsed kisaki's plan into fragments as if it were mere child's play and allowed kazutora's switchblade to sink into her wrist, trading her own consciousness for baji's life without a shred of reluctance. it was evident in the way she returned to toman with baji's arm linked around hers, wrist swaddled in bandages and a bright smile splitting her cheeks. it was evident in the way her eyes were devoid of anything but pity, half-lidded and soft with sorrow as she gazed up at a deranged izana with a face speckled with bruises and dripping with her own blood.

the gentle understanding in her eyes never once faltered��never once dimmed.

takemichi is certain that she must have caught on to his own ability to leap through time. however, she never once questioned it, and he never once questioned her. although, thinking back on it, he knows that he should have. because now, all her arcane secrets have died alongside her.

what's worse is that he knows that everyone else feels the same way.

the burden of guilt weighs heaviest on takemichi's shoulders. he neglected to form an alliance with her out of the sheer uncertainty and skepticism spurred by her being an unfamiliar figure in a storyline that, so far, had been unchanging. however, because of that, he knows that he missed key signs that hinted at a future of loneliness and affliction for her. but, what truly kills him is that despite all the experience he gained through the trial and error of the redo he was blessed with, he knows that she’d always been ten steps ahead of him. she was well aware that her death was approaching while he remained ignorant. she suffered in silence, alone and detached. the kindness and compassion that poured from her heart demonstrated no bounds, because she knew that she wouldn't have the rest of her life to exhibit them. a glimmer of something wistful—desolation, perhaps—had been prominent in her eyes from day one as she silently watched the fruits of her labor blossom into a future that she knew takemichi and toman deserved. the way she clung a bit tighter to emma when she embraced her at the wedding reception, the loose-ended questions that she would always start to ask takemichi but ultimately dismiss with a dry chuckle and a shake of her head, the way she broke her fucking back to meticulously carve out a place in the future for everyone but herself—all the signs were there.

all the signs that she needed someone—anyone.

so how is it, takemichi wonders, that he managed to save everyone but the one person who rescued so many people that she herself forgot how to ask for help?

[softxsuki]

HEYYYY (this totally isnt 🍄 anon) could i please make a request. school has been really stressful, especially with my depression and ive been completing less and less each day and I have been feeling so so guilty abt it. my thoughts happen mostly at night when im trying my best to sleep. though, the voices in my head wont leave me alone:,D Ive been crying sm beacuse of it and the voices in my head keep telling me that I shouldnt be feeling this way, and how I have everything I need etc.

kuroo, being my comfort character, i would like to request a sceneario where he wakes up one night to gn reader crying at abt their depression etc. and where he reassures us abt it all? ik you just did like 2 kuroo fics alrdy so im fine w you putting this request aside and work on other requests before this one:)

tysm in advance:]<333

Kuroo Comforts Reader At Night About Their Depression

Pairing: Kuroo x Gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, stress, guilt, feeling like giving up

Genre: Comfort

Post-Type: Drabble

Word Count: 990

Summary: In which Kuroo wakes up to you crying at night about your depression and stresses with school so he comforts you c:.

[A/N: HELLOOOO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I'm insane for keeping my requests open when I have over 100 pending right now aaaaaaahhh, but I'm so glad I can write things like this to help you guys out <3. I've been sick this whole week, coughing my lungs out and sneezing like crazy, so apologies if this sucks. I blame the mucus in my brain (that's gross I'm sorry NBFHEABFK) UHHH YEAH, I'm sorry you're feeling so stressed with your studies and juggling your depression and guilt as well. Things WILL get better so keep pushing forward. Once school is over you'll feel a lot lighter, but for now we can just keep trying. TRUST ME once I graduated it felt like a breath of fresh air. Keep fighting through each day because I promise you that better days await you, and you're not gonna want to miss that! ;) <3 Hope this drabble helpsssss. Also I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be romantic or platonic SOOOOO if you wanted it to be platonic, then you guys are cuddling and sleeping together as friends 🧍‍♀️ :) okay bye ]

It was late, around 3am as you sat wide awake in bed with Kuroo snoozing beside you. Drops of moonlight seeped into your room from the windows through the gaps in your blinds; it was a serene night, a huge contrast to the utter turmoil you felt within you.

It had been weeks since each day seemed to drag on and on. Small tasks seemed like huge chores as it felt like you were barely making it through each day. You were falling behind in your studies for school and your parents had called you multiple times in concern, which just made you feel guilty. The dark pit in your stomach only grew larger as each day passed, threatening to eat you whole at any second. 

You turn away from Kuroo in bed, shuffling away from his arms that were once wrapped tightly around you as he continues to sleep. You curl into yourself as warm, fresh tears make their way down your face as your thoughts completely consume you. Why couldn’t you just get your act together and get everything that you needed to get done, done? Why did you have to feel so stressed, which only made your depression even worse as the fear of disappointing your parents and Kuroo loomed over you? Why couldn’t you just DO IT–study, do everything you needed to do? Why did you have to cry about it now? What was crying doing for you? But each negative thought just made more and more tears fall down your face. 

You try to hold your sobs back, but they eventually escape your lips as your body trembles and shakes with each sound. You feel Kuroo stir beside you as he sits up in bed.

“Hey, what's wrong?” He moves towards you, leaning over your form to get a look at your face, but you turn away and stuff your face into your pillow so can’t see you in that state.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you say between sobs with your head still stuffed in the pillow, hoping he can make out what you’re saying, “I’ll just go to the living room.”

You begin to move, crawling out of bed, but a firm grip around your wrist stops you, “Y/N,” Kuroos calls you, “Tell me what’s going on.”

You hesitate. Did you really want to drag Kuroo into the mess you called your mind? You glance back at him, a desperate look on his face as his expression falls further at your tear stained face. Ultimately, you sigh in defeat and sit back down on the bed as you explain everything to him, from your depression, to the high stress you’ve been feeling lately, and so on.

“I just feel so guilty that I haven’t been able to do anything around the house or find the energy to study for my classes. It’s almost like I get paralyzed the more stressful my classes get and I can’t seem to get anything done. I feel depressed and just tired of everything. I just…want to lie down and give up sometimes,” you confess as guilt once again spreads throughout your body.

Kuroo sits beside you the whole time, his hand that still held your wrist rubs soothing circles into your skin, encouraging you to speak until you were done. 

“It’s okay to feel stressed sometimes. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner,” he sighs and looks over toward you with a small smile, “There’s no need to feel guilty about not meeting others expectations of you. You’re doing your best and school can get extremely stressful at times. You’re doing so well fighting your own battles with your depression, your daily tasks, and juggling your studies on top of everything. What’s important is that you’re trying.”

You take a shaky breath in and meet his gaze, “But what if I can’t try anymore?”

If your words shocked Kuroo or scared him, he didn’t let his expression falter as he gives your hand a squeeze, “Well that’s what I’m for. I’ll help you get back on your feet. We’ll take each day at a time, starting with getting you slowly back into your studies. Perhaps we can find a fun way for you to study so you feel more motivated to do it?”

You think it over, imagining yourself laughing and smiling beside Kuroo while studying instead of dreading it, “Yeah, I think that would be nice.”

So together you both come up with fun ways to study; from treating yourself to your favorite things like food, a quick anime break, or music break, to studying outside to expose yourself to new scenery like a park or library instead of the same four walls of your room; Kuroo was intent on helping you ease your stresses from your classes.

“Of course this is just a start as I’m sure your classes aren’t your only problems, but we’ll slowly get through this together, okay? Now wipe those tears and lets get back to bed,” he says while pulling you back onto the bed with him into his arms, “And don’t feel guilty about things like this. Everyone can see how hard you’re trying, so never be afraid to ask for some help and guidance. Your family and I will always be there to help you when you need it.”

“Thank you Tetsuro,” you whisper as your eyes suddenly start to feel heavy.

“Anytime Y/N,” you can fainly hear Kuroo reply as your eyes flutter closed.

It was as if all the negative thoughts and voices in your head vanished as the emotional weight you had been carrying released you, allowing you to relax in Kuroo’s arms long enough to feel at peace. With your eyes closed and Kuroo holding you close to him, you dream of the future where things would be brighter and lighter each day, and it was all thanks to the man beside you.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 4/18/2022

[dream-a-little-longer-1]

My head is always filled with angsts for some reason I'm sorry💔💔💔

Imagine Louis and Albert seeing their S/O in a near death situation and they almost failed to save them(getting assassinated etc), i wanna cry it's like my favourite therapy🥰

Anyways, i hope you're doing well these days Luna >:D

- Rinn

Hi Rinn-san!!! (◠ᴥ◕ʋ)

Oh dont apologize!we all need some angst in our lives sometimes lol!

Oh...cant say i haven't thought of this scenario!but u know me,only happy endings are allowed here!(^._.^)ﾉ

Hope u enjoy!

-love,Luna

✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*

Albert

•Albert does not cry,not easily at least

•but when he sees your lifeless body fall down on the ground

•with a loud BANG! echoing through the alleyway

•he can feel his stomach twisting,his throat closing up as he stumbles forward

•there's a sick feeling rising up in his chest as he drops his knife and runs toward you

•cradling your bloody form in his arms

•his whole body shaking violently as he calls for you,begs you to stay awake

• "Y/n."

•he whispers

• "Y/N!!!"

•he cries as he shakes you,his tears now falling freely down his cheeks as he presses a hand down on your wound to stop the bleeding

• "my dear,my love,please stay awake..."

•and when you raise a shaky hand to his cheek

•leaving a trail of blood behind,

•he chokes on a sob

•because even in your worst state of body and mind,you always make sure to comfort him

• "Albert-Sama!!'

•there's a familiar voice ringing in the dark alley,someone he knows but cant point out

•but he takes you in his arms to rise up,his whole vision blurry

•there's a gentle kiss to your forehead,and his voice is trembling but determined nevertheless

• "everything's gonna be fine,my dear."

Louis

•Louis never wanted you in the battlefield

•that's why he always convinced you to stay in the mansion,away from all the danger

•but when he comes back from a mission

•and hears a loud noise of shooting

•someone screaming,someone crying out in pain

•he knows he shouldn't have kept you away from himself

•Louis comes inside just as someone jumps outside the window, throwing the gun on the ground as they run away

•but Louis doesn't even bother to look at them

•not when he reaches you,and feels his knees hitting the hard floor

•your body feels warm,and at the same time too cold in his arms

•and he fights the urge to throw up his guts at the sight of your blood on his hands

•someone calls his name,and he knows you'll be saved

•but as tears runs down from his scarlet eyes

•and he hears someone screaming,someone who's in pain

•he doesn't realize who it is until his throat turns soar and there are hands on his shoulders

•you'll be fine,and he knows it

•but he wont be able to forgive himself,not until you're awake and smiling in his arms again

[skunkandgrenade]

Little whump things from personal experience to make your story more realistic

CONTENT WARNING: mentions of being sick/vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of blood/bleeding, mentions of malnourishment, mentions of anxiety, mentions of tooth getting ripped out, mentions of trauma, mentions of nightmares

Kneeling with your legs open hurts more than kneeling with your legs closed

Your neck gets sweaty when you wear a choker/collar and it makes it super uncomfortable

You loose hair when you’re malnourished and black out when you get up too quickly

When you’re anxious/scared, you feel your internal organs shake and it’s weird and freaky and uncomfortable

Not being able to cry anymore does not mean you don’t ever feel like crying or the pain that comes with crying. There’s just no tears that come out and no relief after

Crying is really tiring

Walking when your legs are numb feels weird and surreal. It’s really hard to stay up

Your body gets cold when you loose blood, even if it’s not a lot

If you loose blood in your wrists, you will struggle with moving your fingers normally after, even if it wasn’t a big blood loss

Boredom is agonizing

If you feel sick, it will take a while before you vomit. You will feel your blood concentrate on your stomach, so you loose blood in your legs and arms and you’re lightheaded and trembling

If you take anti-vomiting medicine when you already feel sick, you will have the feeling of being just about to vomit for hours. It’s agonizing, you can’t stop trembling, you’re cold and you can’t walk. You’re also exhausted.

If you don’t drink enough water and hold in your pee for too long, you get an infection and can pee blood. It’s terrible and hurts so much and you have to go to the hospital. It feels like you have a blade in your urethra and you fear peeing all the time

You get angry at everything when you’re hungry. You’re easily irritated and the smallest thing can make you mad

Getting your tooth crushed and ripped out is one of the worst pains you can experience

Everyone becomes desperate for touch/attention/praise at some point

If you’re traumatized, you have big memory loss and won’t remember much from before and even during

Everyone needs to get their frustrations/emotions out in some way, it can be singing, yelling, hurting yourself, hurting others, etc

Swallowing something you don’t like is physically hard and painful

Not stretching everyday even when you want to is painful and makes you feel out of place in your own body

Not being able to breathe through you nose is horrible

If you have anxiety, fighting back can be impossible, even if it’s a life or death situation

At some point of exhaustion, it can become physically impossible to move, no matter what

PTSD nightmares are a lot different than what you might think. I made a post about it here

If you’re sleeping when you’re cold, you’ll constantly wake up but be unable to move even if the temperature is easily solvable due to exhaustion and being cold

Your hair gets disgusting and greasy when you don’t wash it regularly

If you don’t clean your ears often it will become uncomfortable and you won’t hear as clearly as usual

Feeling of asymmetry can be agonizing for some people

There’s always a point in life when you’re suffering where you don’t care if you live or die anymore

I know I said it already but it’s important; your memory is absolute shit when you have trauma

You still have nightmares, you still flinch, you still panic even multiple years after the traumatic event happened

If you’re not a trained fighter, there’s always a moment of shock and confusion before reaction in stressful events

Everyone has their limits. Everyone. Even the whumper

Some people are beyond redeemable

You don’t have to forgive to heal

You can become physically unable to say your abuser’s name and look them in the eyes

Loud sounds can become terrifying (vacuum cleaners, juice mixers or whatever they’re called, hair dryers, etc)

At some point, you become unable to tell the difference between pain and uncomfort because you’ve grown accustomed to it so you don’t realize you’re actually in pain until it becomes agonizing

You don’t mention your pain to anyone because no one could do anything about it anyways and you don’t want to bother them

Freedom feels weird when you have it for the first time in years

You might wake up in the safety of your house but not recognize where you are and panic for a while before realizing where you are

If you have any questions I’d be glad to answer them! And don’t feel shy to add anything to the list!!

Also, those are all things I’ve been through so they’re from my perspective, but I tried making them as neutral as possible. If you have a different perspective, please share it!

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Not Alone - Chapter Five

Pairing: Ives (Tenet) x Reader

Work Summary:

You were reliably informed that the best – safest – way to break up with your scumbag boyfriend was to not be alone with him when it happened. You had spent the last year and a half alienating all of your friends and family for him, so a half-full pub was the best you could do for company.

Luckily, the buff, blue-eyed military-type at the next table over is there to help you get home safe.

Big TW for abusive relationships.

Chapter Summary: Ives finally tells you the truth.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2608

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mcximffs

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes: Big warning for abusive relationships in this one, implied violence, actual violence (not against reader), etc.

---

You awoke with a start to the sound of knocking on your front door. You must’ve fallen asleep on the sofa. Scrambling to your feet, you checked your phone. Almost midnight.

Ives was off doing some work thing, so you were alone in your flat. Cautiously, you made your way to the front door and checked the peephole.

You drew back from it suddenly, as if it had burned you. Joe was here. He was standing outside your flat, calmly waiting for you to open the door.

You reached for the bolts and additional locks on the door, but hesitated. He didn’t know for sure that you were in here. If you bolted the door, he’d hear you. He seemed calm for the moment, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Retreating as quietly as you could, you locked yourself in the bathroom. You switched off the light and sat down on the floor. Trembling, you pulled out your phone and called Ives. Straight to voicemail. Your stomach turned.

Next, you tried the emergency services.

“I need the police,” you whispered into the line when the operator asked. “My ex-boyfriend is outside my flat. He’s violent. I don’t know what he’s going to do.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks. The operator told you that they’d get someone to you as fast as possible, but you didn’t like her tone of voice. “Thank you,” you said anyway, and then hung up.

You sat there in the dark and waited. There was no noise from outside. You wanted to throw up.

Suddenly your phone buzzed again, cutting through the silence and illuminating the dark room. Ives was calling you. You almost missed the answer button because your fingers were shaking so much.

“Y/N?”

“Ives,” you breathed. You’d never been more relieved to hear his voice.

“I can’t really talk right now, love, I’m in the middle of-”

“Joe’s here,” you whispered. Your whole body was shaking now. “I called the police and they said they’re on their way but I’m so scared.” You scrubbed furiously at your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he said. His voice was low, as if he was trying to avoid the people around him hearing him. “I’m sorry I can’t be there, but the police will be there soon. They’ll get rid of him for you, and as soon as I’m done here I’ll come right over to see you, okay?” At that moment, you heard a banging sound, like a door being broken out of its frame. You felt sick.

“Ives,” you whimpered. Under the door, you saw the shape of a shadow moving outside. “I think he’s got in. I’m so scared.”

“Shit.”

You tried to steady your breathing. You were sure that Joe would be able to hear you if he came any closer.

“It’s going to be okay,” Ives murmured, but even he didn’t sound certain.

“I love you,” you said softly. There was a long silence. You’d never told him that before, but you meant it. You were holding your breath for multiple reasons now.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

You exhaled, just in time for a loud bang as something hit the bathroom door.

“He knows I’m in here.” You buried your face into your arms. Ives was saying something, but you could no longer hear him.

Just then, from outside the door, you heard the sounds of a scuffle. There was a sickening crunching sound and a cry of pain.

“I think someone else is here,” you whispered to Ives.

“That’s good, that’s good,” he said soothingly. “You’re safe now. I’m gonna get to you as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay.”

Very, very tentatively, with all of your muscles on a hair trigger, ready to slam the door shut again if necessary, you opened the bathroom door a crack. Sure enough, there was someone else here. He was pinning Joe to the wall with one hand wrapped around his throat.

“Ives,” you whispered into the phone.

“Yeah?”

“It’s not the police.”

“What do you mean?”

The man holding Joe turned his head and your eyes met through the crack in the door. You slammed the door shut again.

“It’s you,” you said, incredulous.

“Me?”

“How- how can you be here?”

The Ives in the living room hadn’t been holding a phone. The Ives on the phone had clearly not been fighting anyone in the last five minutes. Your world was spinning.

“Baby-”

“What is going on, Ives?”

“I can’t explain right now. I have to go, but I need you to know that everything is going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now. I’m there with you.”

“What do you mean?” Your hands were shaking again.

“I’ll explain everything later. I’m so sorry. I love you.”

You don’t know if he was waiting for you to say it back, but you didn’t. You hung up, no longer having any idea who to trust. How could Ives be in two places at once? You buried your face in your hands. Nothing was making sense.

Out in the living room, you heard shouting. You stayed put, listening hard. It sounded like the police were here. Folding your arms across your chest, you waited. The shouting died down. You could hear a quiet conversation taking place.

A knock on the bathroom door made you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Y/N?” It was Ives. Your stomach twisted.

“Yeah?” you called out.

“Joe is gone. You can come out now.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and got to your feet. Unsteadily, you made to open the door, but then stopped. Something was very wrong. The only thing you could do now was leave the bathroom and face whatever was waiting outside, and the thought terrified you.

Steeling yourself, you opened the door.

“Hey,” said Ives. He leant against the doorframe, looking sheepish. There was a nasty cut on his eyebrow, and bruises all over his face and neck. There was no way Joe had done that.

“What’s going on?” Your voice sounded weak to your own ears.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise.” Ives stepped towards you, trying to wrap his arms around you, but you pushed him away. His hands dropped to his sides immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Just tell me what’s going on.”

“The cops wanna speak to you first. Come on.” He moved out of the way, and you walked into the living room. There were three police officers.

One of the officers – a woman – started asking you questions about Joe, and what had happened tonight. Apart from the fact of your boyfriend appearing to be in two places at once, you told the full, true story. Frankly, you were getting sick of being questioned by the police.

Thankfully, the damage to the front door was pretty minimal. Your landlord was still going to be angry, but at least he didn’t need to replace the whole thing. After the police officers left, Ives slotted the door into place as best he could. You would have to call your landlord in the morning.

When Ives offered to make you a cup of tea, you crossed your arms.

“You’re stalling,” you accused.

Ives just sighed. “Not intentionally. This is just… This is going to be a lot, okay? I didn’t want to have to tell you any of this – you’re not supposed to know any of this – but you deserve the truth.”

The two of you settled yourselves down opposite each other at your kitchen table. He retrieved a briefcase that you hadn’t noticed before, and flicked the catches open. From the briefcase, he pulled thick pair of protective gloves, and a smaller black case.

“There are…” Ives took a deep breath. “… Objects in this world. Travelling backwards through time. We think that they’re being manufactured somewhere in the future, and being sent back to us.”

“What?” you breathed. Ives donned the protective gloves, opened the small case and emptied out what looked like a small piece of debris. He held his hand above it, and the debris jumped back into his hand. “How… How did you do that?”

“I dropped it,” he said. “But in reverse?”

Ives let you try. You put on the gloves and experimented with the debris. It did, indeed, seem to be moving backwards in time. Your head was pounding. Seeing the distress on your face, Ives took the gloves from you gently and put everything back away in his briefcase.

“This is your… job?”

“I work for an organisation that is trying to stop something catastrophic from happening. These inverted objects are relics of that catastrophe. I’m sorry that I can’t really give you more details, but it’s dangerous enough you knowing what you know already.”

You nodded. Your eyes felt watery.

“So… today?” you asked.

“I had a mission today. You called me when I was just about to invert myself. But then you said that you saw me, and I knew what I had to do.”

“Which was?”

“Because I was inverted, I finished my mission before I’d started it. I re-inverted myself with just enough time to get here and deal with Joe.”

Cautiously, you reached out your hand across the table and took one of his.

“This is a lot, babe.”

“I know,” said Ives, grimacing. “I understand if you don’t want to see me again after tonight. I never wanted you to get caught up in this. It was a mistake to let myself get in this deep.” He stood up, pulling his hand out of your grasp.

“A mistake?” You got to your feet too. Tears were streaming down your face now. “You think our entire relationship was a mistake.”

He looked at you, conflict written across his pretty face.

“Darling, being with you is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. My only regret is you getting hurt. I should leave.”

You walked around the table and up to him, taking both of his hands in yours.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?”

“You deserve better than I can give you, love.”

“Bullshit,” you said, stepping closer. “You’ve given me everything I want.” You stood up on your tiptoes, leaning into him. One of his hands found your waist, holding you steady. He studied your face for a long moment.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He leant down and pulled you in for a rough kiss. Your hands immediately came up, one threading into his hair, the other grasping the back of his neck to pull him closer. His tongue slipped between your lips and you pressed yourself against him.

“Y/N,” he breathed, pulling away from you for a moment. You whined, your lips trying to chase his but he held you still. “Earlier you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it. Did you?”

“I don’t see how that’s even in question.” His arms wrapped around your waist. “But for the record, yes, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. You clung to him, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his ears, his neck. He carried you to the bedroom and laid you down on the bed, immediately covering your body with his.

“I wanna go down on you,” he murmured into your ear. You shivered. “Take this off.” He tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you obediently removed it.

As you lay beneath him, he let out a little growl at the back of his throat and set to work unhooking your bra. When he managed it, he ripped it off of you and tossed it across the room.

“So fucking pretty,” he purred, pressing kisses to your boobs. You wriggled, surprisingly turned on by the feeling of his beard scratching against your skin.

“Ives,” you moaned, spreading your legs to make more space for him between them. He pressed closer to you, grinding against your crotch. “Fuck.” His tongue circled your nipple, and you grabbed a handful of his hair, gasping in pleasure.

He looked up at you with a half-smirk on his face. “Am I gonna have to tie you up, baby girl? Or are you going to be good?”

“I’ll be good,” you promised, and he went back to sucking on your nipple. Your hands fisted into your bedsheets, and you bucked up against him.

“Poor baby girl,” he murmured. He leant in and started pressing kisses to your neck. “So desperately horny for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding desperately.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m gonna make you feel all better.” He kissed his way down your chest and stomach, stopping at the waistband of your jeans. He undid them and you wiggled out of them as he pulled them down, leaving you in just your panties.

He suddenly pushed your legs apart wide and laid a kiss on the wet patch in the middle of your panties.

“Fuck,” you moaned. He pressed his face against your clothed pussy and breathed you in.

“It’s time for my favourite meal.” He licked over the fabric of your panties and you trembled. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” His fingers pulled your panties away from your pussy, and he inhaled sharply at the sheer volume of fluid there.

Pushing your panties to the side, he dipped his tongue between your folds, tasting you. He moaned into your pussy, and the vibrations tingled across your core. You let out a high-pitched gasp as he began to lick your clit; firm, strong licks that made you weak in the knees.

“Baby,” you moaned. He pulled your panties all the way down and threw them to the side, and then dove back into your pussy, redoubling his efforts. He alternated between broad, sweeping licks, encompassing your whole pussy, and laving attention all over your clit, and occasionally dipping tongue inside you for a taste.

When he started fucking you with his fingers too, you came with a shuddering gasp, begging him not to stop. He didn’t stop. He made you cum twice with just his mouth and fingers, and then rolled you over onto your front for the main event.

You leant forward on your elbows, raising your ass in the air, and you felt Ives manoeuvring himself behind you. You shivered at the feeling of his hard cock pressed against your entrance. His fingers found their way into your hair, and he pulled it back sharply as he entered you.

You felt like he was going to break your back with the way that he was stretching you, and you’d never felt so good in your life. You were moaning a mantra of his name as you came around his cock, toes curling against the bedsheets.

He pulled you against him, laying you both down on your sides without ever pulling out of you. He spooned you, one hand lifting your leg up so he could continue to fuck you. Your head tipped back against his shoulder, sighing in contentment.

When you could tell he was close, you guided his hand to your boob and begged him to cum inside you, and he did so, his forehead pressing against the side of your neck.

“That was fucking incredible,” you murmured, once you’d caught your breath.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he said, pulling you back against him and spooning you again.

[sicknessbysalem]

wait i want to meet mercury! is there any fics in the works right now for him? i love meeting new character, plus i think it would be interesting to see how julian or saylor (whoever is most likely) look after him. if you want to write that, please do!!

oh i love mercury! he’s one of my favorites (and one of my oldest ocs, mind you. in terms of how long i’ve had him.)

i decided on both saylor and julian but used a lot of this fic to introduce mercury and add some more lore into their story.

if you have any more requests, questions, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw emeto, panic attacks, anxiety, i think that’s it?

Mercury had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, unable to find a comfortable position. His stomach felt unsettled, a gnawing discomfort that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

It wasn't painful, exactly—just a persistent, uneasy feeling that something wasn't right. Maybe from dinner, maybe because he was tored, maybe becauae he’d been laying awake for hours and the last time he put something in his stomach except water was close to eight hours ago. Mercury didn’t know, and he hated it.

As a mechanical engineering student, Mercury was used to dealing with complex problems, but this was one he couldn't figure out. He finally gave up on sleep, pushing his covers aside and sitting up slowly, hoping that the change in position might help. Maybe he could study, maybe he could do something.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the digital clock on his desk.

2:13 AM. Too early to be awake, but too late to be doing anything about it.

Mercury sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to shake off the fog of sleep that still clung to him.

As he sat there, the uneasy feeling in his stomach began to worsen. A cold sweat broke out across his skin, and he felt a strange, unsettling sensation in the back of his throat.

His heart rate picked up, a sense of urgency creeping in. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness hit him.

Something was definitely wrong.

Mercury made his way to the bathroom, his steps unsteady. He opened the door quietly, not wanting to wake Julian or the others in the suite. The bathroom light was harsh, and he squinted against it as he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

At first he closed the door and leaned against it, taking a few deep breaths. Maybe standing would help, maybe splashing some cold water on his face out, maybe he had some medicine to help, but help what?

He wasn't sure what he expected to happen, but as soon as he saw the toilet, his body seemed to make the decision for him.

Without warning, his stomach clenched violently, and he was suddenly overcome with the need to vomit. He barely had time to drop to his knees before the first wave of sickness hit him, his body lurching forward as he retched into the toilet.

The force of it surprised him, and he gasped between heaves, his throat burning as the acidic taste filled his mouth. He hadn’t expected to vomit, and it was so sudden…

His body continued to convulse, each retch more intense than the last. He felt his stomach pull in and if he focused hard enough he could feel the acid and remains of dinner move up from his gut into his throat. He clung to the rim of the toilet, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself.

Despite his best efforts to be quiet, the sound of his retching echoed in the small bathroom. Mercury tried to stifle the noise, but his body betrayed him, the sickness too sudden and overwhelming to control. Luckily, he was never a loud vomiter, not like Julian for sure. But there was a lot, and he was sure his ability to somewhat control how much noise he was making would wear off.

His stomach seemed intent on expelling everything, leaving him weak and trembling as he continued to vomit, coughing a few times as his body wasn’t sure what to do exactly.

Julian, lying in his bed on the other side of the shared wall, stirred at the sound of movement. In his half-asleep state, he assumed it was one of their suitemates using the bathroom and dismissed it, turning over to try and get back to sleep.

The muffled noises didn't fully register with him, his mind too groggy to make the connection that something might be wrong.

Back in the bathroom, Mercury's body finally began to relent, the retching slowing down as his stomach emptied itself. He panted heavily, resting his forehead against his palm, the cool porcelain of the toilet digging into his elbow.

His whole body felt shaky, and he could feel the cold sweat clinging to his skin. The suddenness of it all left him disoriented and drained.

He stayed there for a moment, gathering what little strength he had left before reaching for the toilet handle and flushing. The sound seemed louder than usual in the quiet of the night, and he winced as it echoed in the small space.

Mercury leaned back, sitting on the cool tile floor and resting his head against the wall toward their room, trying to steady his breathing. He couldn’t stay here. He had to move, back to bed.

His stomach still felt unsettled, but the worst seemed to be over. He closed his eyes, trying to process what had just happened. He hadn't been feeling well, but he hadn't expected to get sick so suddenly. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good, and he knew he needed to figure out what was wrong.

For now, though, all he could do was sit there, too drained to move, hoping that the worst of it was over.

-

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as Julian made his way to the small kitchenette in their suite, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes.

He still felt groggy, the early hour and the remnants of a strange dream hanging over him. The memory of hearing something in the bathroom during the night lingered, but in the light of day, it seemed less significant.

He got ready. A shower, brushed his teeth, changed. He’d knocked on Alex and Tyler’s door to see if they were up, and when they didn’t seem to be he simply continued on.

Julian glanced at Mercury’s bed. His roommate wasn’t there, which was strange. But all of his class stuff were gone, so Julian figured he was in the lab early or in the library, maybe the dining hall if he was lucky.

Julian didn’t see him in the dining hall as he grabbed some fruit. Alex and Tyler came over to get their breakfast too, looking equally tired but ready to face the day.

"Morning, guys," Julian greeted them with a yawn.

"Morning," Alex replied, running a hand through his messy hair. Tyler nodded in greeting as he headed to the coffee maker, clearly in need of caffeine.

As they all settled into the routine of their morning, Julian couldn't help but think back to the noise he had heard in the middle of the night.

It had sounded like someone was in the bathroom for a while, but it had been too muffled for him to be sure. He glanced up at Alex and Tyler, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Hey, did either of you get up in the middle of the night?" Julian asked, trying to sound casual. "I thought I heard someone in the bathroom, for like… ever.”

Alex shook his head, reaching for a granola bar. "Nope, I slept like a rock. Didn't get up at all."

Tyler, now sipping on his coffee, furrowed his brow in thought. "Yeah, I don't think I got up either. I was out cold until my alarm went off."

Julian frowned slightly, swirling his spoon around in his cereal. "Weird. I must have imagined it, or maybe it was someone across the hall."

"Maybe," Alex shrugged, not thinking much of it. "Could've been anything. You were probably just half-asleep and heard something."

Julian nodded, trying to brush off the lingering feeling of unease. "Yeah, probably. I just remember hearing something. Maybe it was a dream."

The conversation shifted to more mundane topics as they continued with breakfast, but Julian couldn't fully shake the thought from his mind.

It had felt real, but with Alex and Tyler both saying they hadn't been up, he figured it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Still, the memory of the muffled noises lingered, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch.

As the morning went on, Julian tried to focus on the day ahead, pushing the strange event to the back of his mind.

Mercury hadn't been around yet. Julian made a mental note to check in with him later. For now, he had classes to get to, and there was no point in dwelling on what was likely nothing.

But as he gathered his things and prepared to leave, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. The feeling was fleeting, easily dismissed in the bustle of the morning, but it lingered just enough to keep him on edge.

-

Mercury sat at his desk, his hands gripping the edges of the table as he tried to focus on the lecture. The words of the professor seemed to blur together, fading in and out of his consciousness.

His stomach churned relentlessly, each wave of nausea growing stronger than the last. It had been bad enough when he woke up in the middle of the night, but now, in the harsh light of day, the sickness felt ten times worse.

He had forced himself to attend the class he shared with Saylor, determined not to fall behind.

Mechanical engineering was demanding, and missing even one class, whether it was a required class for all students or a class required for his program,could set him back.

But as he sat there, struggling to keep his head up, Mercury was beginning to realize that pushing through might not have been the best idea.

Saylor sat a few seats away, her focus mostly on the lecture, but every now and then, she would glance at Mercury, sensing that something was off.

He was usually so focused in class, but today he seemed distant, his skin pale and clammy. She noticed how he kept swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as if he was trying to keep something down.

It wasn't like him to look so unsteady, but Saylor decided to keep her thoughts to herself, not wanting to embarrass him by asking if he was okay in front of everyone.

Mercury tried to concentrate on the professor's words, but his body was betraying him. His head throbbed with a dull ache, his vision occasionally blurring as he fought to stay present.

The lights in the room felt too bright, piercing through his skull and adding to his discomfort. He could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck, his shirt sticking to his skin in a way that made him feel even more trapped in his own body.

His stomach twisted violently, and he gritted his teeth, trying to force the sensation back down. Each breath was a struggle, the air feeling too thick as he tried to steady himself. His hands trembled slightly, and he clenched them into fists, hoping that the tightness would ground him somehow.

Saylor saw that. Maybe he was anxious. She knew Mercury had social anxiety, if not anxiety as a whole. Julian told her that. Maybe it was just a rough day, Saylor knew how that could be. She shrugged it off. Maybe that’s what felt so weird.

The nausea that had been simmering all morning suddenly surged, catching him off guard. Mercury's eyes widened as a sharp, acidic taste filled his mouth.

His stomach lurched, and he could feel the bile rising, burning the back of his throat. Panic set in as he realized he wasn't going to be able to hold it back.

Without a word, Mercury pushed his chair back and bolted from the classroom. The sudden movement made his head spin, but he didn't have time to think about it.

He barely made it into the hallway before the first violent heave hit him, thank everything it stayed contained but he knew it wouldn’t for much longer.

He stumbled toward the nearest bathroom, his hand clamped over his mouth as he tried to keep from vomiting all over the floor.

He burst into the bathroom, barely managing to throw himself into a stall before he doubled over the toilet. The force of the vomiting was immediate and overwhelming, his body convulsing as it expelled everything in his stomach.

The sound echoed off the tiled walls, harsh and unforgiving, and Mercury could do nothing but hang on as his body continued to betray him.

His throat burned with each retch, the taste of bile making him gag even more. His vision swam, and he could feel the sweat pouring down his face, his body shaking with the effort of being sick.

He panted heavily between heaves, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to get a handle on the situation. But the nausea was relentless, each wave hitting him harder than the last.

Back in the classroom, Saylor had noticed Mercury's sudden departure, but she didn't follow. She had seen the look on his face just before he left, the unmistakable signs of someone about to be sick.

She knew Mercury well enough to know that he didn't want an audience for something like this, and she respected his need for privacy. Instead, she focused on the lecture, making a mental note to check on him later.

Mercury finally slumped against the stall wall, his body spent and weak. His head throbbed in time with his racing heart, and he could feel the tears of frustration and exhaustion prickling at the corners of his eyes. He had tried so hard to push through, but now he was left feeling worse than ever.

He stayed there for a few minutes, trying to gather the strength to move. His whole body felt drained, every muscle aching from the violent retching.

The nausea had subsided slightly, but it was still there, a constant reminder of how sick he really felt. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing, hoping that the worst was over. He spit in the toilet, checking his watch, hanging back for a few moments while students shifted between classes so nobody had to see him like this.

He leaned against the stall, just trying to breathe.

-

Later that afternoon, Saylor found herself sitting across from Julian in the campus café, the usual hustle and bustle of students around them providing a familiar backdrop to their conversation.

She stirred her coffee absentmindedly, her thoughts lingering on Mercury and his sudden departure from class earlier.

"Hey, Jules," Saylor began, looking up from her cup. "Have you seen Mercury this afternoon? Or like, at all today? He left class really suddenly, and he didn't look too good."

Julian frowned, setting down his drink. "No, I haven't seen him. I think he went to the lab early to work on his… whatever he’s working on. Why? What happened?"

Saylor sighed, leaning back in her chair. "He just looked really off during class. Pale, sweating, and he bolted out of there like he was about to be sick. I was going to check on him afterward, but I figured you might have a better idea of what's going on."

Julian shook his head, his brow furrowing in concern. "I wish I knew. I did hear something in the bathroom in the middle of the night, though. It woke me up, but I didn't think much of it at the time. I figured it was just one of our suitemates or someone across the hall."

Saylor raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Did you hear him throwing up or something?"

Julian hesitated, trying to recall the details. "I don't know... I just remember hearing some noise, like someone moving around. I was half-asleep, so I didn't really register it. But now that you mention it, maybe it was Mercury. If he was sick during the night, that would explain why he looked so rough today."

Saylor frowned, the pieces slowly coming together in her mind. "That makes sense. If he was already feeling bad during the night, then it probably got worse by the time we were in class. He must've been trying to push through it."

Julian nodded, his concern growing. "Yeah, that sounds like Mercury. He doesn't like to make a fuss about things, even when he probably should."

Saylor took a sip of her coffee, her mind already racing with what to do next. "We should check on him when we get back to the dorm. Make sure he's okay."

"Definitely," Julian agreed, his tone serious. "If he's been sick all day, he might not be in great shape. We should bring him some water or something, too."

Saylor nodded, a determined look on her face. "I’mg going into town to grab some paint. I can grab some ginger ale or crackers from the store on the way back, just in case. Poor guy... I hate seeing him like this."

"Me too," Julian said, his voice soft with empathy. "We'll take care of him. That's what friends are for, right?"

Saylor smiled, reaching across the table to give Julian's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Exactly. We'll make sure he's okay."

-

Saylor and Julian arrived back at the suite, the familiar hum of the campus outside contrasting with the quiet inside their shared space.

As they entered, they immediately noticed Mercury sitting at his desk, hunched over his books. His back was to them, but even from a distance, they could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were slightly slumped, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

Julian exchanged a quick glance with Saylor, both of them silently agreeing to play it cool. Mercury wasn’t one for coddling, and if he suspected they were hovering because they thought he was sick, he would likely shut down or brush them off.

So instead, they decided to hang around, Saylor sitting on Julian’s bean bag chair and Julian sitting on his bed, keeping things casual.

"Hey, Mercury," Julian said, his tone light. "How was class? I didn’t see you this morning.”

Mercury turned slightly in his chair, giving them a quick nod. "It was fine," he replied, his voice strained but trying to sound normal. "Just a lot of work, as usual. I went to the lab to finish my thermodynamics project."

Saylor grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV to some random show they all usually ignored in favor of conversation.

“You up for some company?" she asked, glancing over at Mercury. "We were thinking of just hanging out for a bit."

Mercury shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "Yeah, sure. I’m just catching up on some notes."

"Cool," Julian said, settling into the armchair across from Saylor. "We’re not doing much, just figured we’d chill. Maybe order some food later."

As they settled in, Saylor and Julian kept the conversation light, discussing the latest campus news, their classes, and other everyday topics.

They were careful not to direct too much attention toward Mercury, but both kept a subtle eye on him, noticing the way he occasionally shifted uncomfortably in his chair, how his hand seemed to tremble slightly as he scribbled notes.

Mercury, for his part, tried to focus on his work, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Not because of them. In fact, he loved when Julian and Saylor hung out. Their conversations were soothing, relaxing even, to hear in the background.

The nausea that had plagued him earlier in the day was creeping back, a slow, relentless wave that made it hard to concentrate.

His head throbbed dully, and his vision blurred at the edges as he struggled to keep his eyes on the page.

He could hear Saylor and Julian chatting behind him, their voices a comforting backdrop, but all he could think about was how badly he didn’t want to be sick again.

He didn’t want to interrupt their time together or, worse, burden them with his problems. The thought of getting sick around them made his stomach twist even more, anxiety layering over the already uncomfortable nausea.

As the minutes ticked by, Mercury’s thoughts began to spiral. What if he couldn’t hold it back? What if he got sick right there in the room, in front of them?

He didn’t want to be an inconvenience, didn’t want to risk getting them sick if this was something contagious. The more he thought about it, the more his heart began to race, each beat pounding in his chest like a drum.

He gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white as the anxiety swelled inside him. His breathing quickened, becoming shallow and uneven, and his vision narrowed, the edges darkening as the panic took hold.

He could feel the room closing in on him, the walls pressing in from all sides. The nausea intensified, feeding into the panic, until it became a vicious cycle he couldn’t escape.

Julian noticed the change first, his empathetic nature and so far three years of psychology courses tuned into the subtle shifts in Mercury’s demeanor. He saw the way Mercury’s shoulders had tensed even more, the way his breathing had turned into shallow gasps. Julian’s heart dropped, realizing what was happening.

"Saylor," Julian said softly, his voice tinged with urgency. Saylor looked over, immediately catching on to what he was seeing.

They both stood up, approaching Mercury with caution, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“Mercury?" Julian said gently, keeping his voice calm. "Are you okay?"

Mercury didn’t respond at first, his mind too caught up in the whirlwind of panic. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was going to suffocate under the weight of his own thoughts.

He wanted to get up, to move, but his body wouldn’t listen, locked in place by the fear that had gripped him.

Saylor stepped a little closer, keeping her movements slow and non-threatening. "Mercury, it’s okay," she said softly. "You’re okay. Just try to breathe."

Mercury’s eyes darted to Saylor and Julian, his gaze wild with fear. "I… I can’t," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. "I can’t breathe."

Julian crouched down beside him, careful to give him space. "You’re having a panic attack," he said gently. "I know it feels scary, they always do, but you’re going to be okay. Just try to focus on my voice, alright?"

Mercury’s chest heaved as he fought to get air into his lungs. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, cold and clammy. He was on the verge of tears, the fear and the physical discomfort overwhelming him completely.

Saylor moved to the other side of him, close enough to offer support but not touching him, knowing he didn’t like it.

"We’re here, Mercury," she said, her voice steady and reassuring. "You’re not alone. Just take it one breath at a time."

Mercury squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on their voices, trying to pull himself out of the panic that had swallowed him whole. He felt a little lightheaded, his heart still pounding painfully in his chest, but the sound of Saylor and Julian’s calm words began to cut through the noise in his mind.

He took a shaky breath, then another, slowly trying to match the rhythm Julian was guiding him through. The tightness in his chest began to ease, just a little, and the darkness at the edges of his vision receded. The nausea still churned in his stomach, but the overwhelming panic was starting to loosen its grip.

"That’s it," Julian said softly, watching as Mercury’s breathing began to slow. "You’re doing great. Just keep breathing with me."

Mercury nodded, tears slipping down his cheeks as he tried to calm down. He felt exhausted, the panic attack draining what little energy he had left.

“I… I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Saylor shook her head, her expression soft and full of understanding. "You don’t have to apologize, Mercury. We’re here for you, no matter what."

Julian nodded in agreement. "Exactly. You’re not a burden, okay? We’re your friends, and we care about you."

Mercury swallowed hard, trying to hold back more tears. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice small. "I… I didn’t want to…"

Saylor gave him a gentle smile. "It’s okay. We know. Just breathe, alright? We’ll be right here.”

Mercury nodded, feeling a little more grounded with their reassurance. He still felt awful, his body weak and his stomach unsettled, but the panic had finally subsided, leaving him tired and worn out.

Julian and Saylor stayed close by, continuing their casual conversation in soft tones, giving Mercury the space he needed to recover.

They didn’t push, didn’t pry, just remained nearby, their presence a silent but steady comfort. Mercury knew he was in good hands, and that thought alone helped ease the lingering tension in his chest.

Mercury sat in his chair, the aftermath of the panic attack leaving him drained and shaky. His breaths had evened out, but the lingering effects were still wreaking havoc on his body.

The adrenaline that had coursed through his veins during the panic attack was now ebbing away, leaving behind a cold, clammy exhaustion.

His stomach, which had been unsettled all day, was now churning with renewed intensity, a sickening reminder of just how fragile he felt.

Julian and Saylor continued their conversation, their voices a calming presence in the background. They were careful not to draw too much attention to Mercury, knowing he needed space to recover on his own terms.

But Mercury was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the rising tide of nausea that was building in his gut.

He tried to focus on his breathing, on the rhythm of Julian’s voice, but every breath seemed to bring another wave of sickness.

His stomach clenched painfully, the acid rising in his throat, and he could taste the bitterness of bile creeping up. He swallowed hard, hoping to keep it down, but the nausea was relentless.

Mercury’s hands gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. The room felt too warm, the air too thick, and he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, cold and clammy.

His vision blurred slightly, and he could feel the nausea intensifying with each passing second.

Without warning, a violent lurch of his stomach made the decision for him. He barely had time to grab the small trash bin by his desk before he was doubled over, the force of the vomiting catching him off guard. His body convulsed as he retched into the bin, the sound harsh and desperate.

Julian and Saylor both turned to him, their conversation halting as they watched in concern. "Mercury," Saylor said softly, her heart aching for him.

Mercury couldn’t respond, his body too focused on expelling everything in his stomach. The retching was intense, each heave sending shockwaves of pain through his already exhausted body. His throat burned, and tears streamed down his face as he clung to the bin, the sickness overwhelming him completely.

Julian stood up, taking a cautious step closer, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Mercury with too much attention. "Just let it out, Mercury," Julian said gently. "You’re going to be okay."

Mercury’s body convulsed again, and he retched harder, his whole frame trembling with the effort. The nausea was relentless, his stomach churning violently as it continued to reject everything. He felt utterly miserable, his head spinning and his vision blurring as he tried to catch his breath between bouts of vomiting.

Saylor stayed close, her expression filled with sympathy. "You’re doing great, Mercury," she said softly, going through her bag to grab a water.

After what felt like an eternity, the retching finally began to subside. Mercury leaned back in his chair, panting heavily, his body shaking from the effort. He felt utterly drained, every muscle in his body aching from the intensity of the sickness.

Julian handed him the bottle of water Saylor gave him, his touch gentle and non-intrusive. "Here, take small sips," Julian suggested, his voice soft.

Mercury nodded weakly, too exhausted to speak. He took a small sip of the water, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. His stomach still felt unsettled, but the worst of the nausea seemed to have passed for now.

Saylor knelt beside him, her eyes filled with concern. "Do you want to lie down for a bit? You’ve been through a lot today."

Mercury hesitated, not wanting to seem like a burden, but the thought of lying down was too tempting to resist. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I think I need to."

Julian and Saylor exchanged a quick glance before helping Mercury to his feet. He was unsteady, his legs shaky from the ordeal, but with their support, he managed to make his way to his bed.

He collapsed onto the mattress, the exhaustion pulling him down like a heavy weight.

Saylor pulled the covers over him, tucking him in gently. "We’re right here if you need anything," she said softly. "Just rest now."

Mercury nodded, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the lingering nausea. He was too tired to argue, too drained to do anything but let sleep take over.

As he drifted off, he was vaguely aware of Julian and Saylor sitting nearby, their quiet conversation a comforting presence in the background.

Even in his weakened state, Mercury felt a small sense of relief knowing that he wasn’t alone. Saylor and Julian were there for him, ready to support him in whatever way he needed. And for now, that was enough.

[after-witch]

Doctor Doctor [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Doctor Doctor [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Needles and doctors and gowns, oh my. Overhaul only wants the best medical care for you--but the only thing you want is to get far away from his impromptu clinic. 

For request: Anonymous said: If you're still taking requests I would love to see what you imagine yandere chisaki would do with a darling that is terrified of all things medical, ESPECIALLY needles. Fic or HC

notes: yandere, medical stuff (needles, etc)

"Can't you just put me to sleep like you did before?"

You hate how whiny your voice sounds, how childish and light. But then again, everything you say feels small and pointless lately. Living with Kai Chisaki has a way of doing that to you. He has you on a schedule. He makes you wear night gowns and soft, flowing clothes. He makes you eat at the same time every morning, ever afternoon, every evening. He picks out your towels and your soaps and likes to use plaque rinse to make sure you're brushing and flossing adequately.

If only staring into your open mouth to look for spots of bright blue rinse was the extent of his medical inclinations. But it's not, and so here you sit, legs nervously kicking, on a medical exam table in a compact little room near his office. 

He brings you here every Monday for your... check-up. But this is the first time you’ve ever been awaken inside these four sterile walls. Normally, he sedates you--he lets you stick out your arm, trembling and terrified, then he injects you with a needle and when you wake up, you're back in your room, back in your bed, and the only sign that anything happened is the soreness in your arms and bandages on your skin.

But today was different. Today he gripped your arm firmly and led you to the room himself. The mere sight of the soft white walls and the examination table and the empty tray that will soon be filled with tools makes you want to vomit. You stumble a little as he guides you towards the table, grips your upper arm as you numbly let yourself be hoisted onto the cold surface, the icy smoothness broken only by a scratchy disposable liner.

You manage to meet his gaze and his eyes show nothing but condescension. He knows you hate doctors. He has to know this. You shrink away every time he insists on checking your blood pressure in the morning. Even weighing yourself on the scale, so he can make sure you're eating enough, makes your stomach twist in nervous knots.

"No more sleeping through your check-ups. I'm weaning you off the sedatives, (Y/N). It's not good to be so reliant on them."

You know this. And you hate being sedated, you really really do. You hate the way it burns your arm when you feel it rushing through your bloodstream and you hate those agonizingly slow seconds where everything is heavy and lidded and there's a terrible, burning fear that spreads through your body like poison. 

But at least when you let him sedate you before your "check-ups," it's a choice--a choice you're making, a choice that makes you feel sick and terrified, but a choice all the same. You always stick out your arm and try not to look and try not to cry, and then it's burning and darkness and lights out. It not the same as when you used to try to escape or when you sometimes (bad, uncontrollably thing that you are) scream at him or kick or have sobbing tantrums and get jabbed unexpectedly to calm you down.

He clears his throat, and you look up. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't see him standing there, waiting, with medical gown in his arms. You hate this medical gown. It looks thin and scratchy. It's a terrible, clinical blue.

"Can... can I just wear my night gown?" You ask. Your night gown is soft, and familiar, and comforting. And you’re stalling. 

He still has on his black mask, but you can tell he's smiling. A pity-filled, soft smile. The kind that makes you feel 10 inches tall. You hate this smile. 

"Not for your check up." He leaves no room for argument. He stares at you, mildly, and you know that there's no point in protesting. You take the gown in your slightly shaking hands. He turns around, as always, and you get changed. You were right. It is thin. It is scratchy. The coldness of the table seeps through the paper and makes your legs tremble even harder. You set your clothes down on the plastic bin set on the bed, and watch numbly as he sets it to the side.

Your body begins to feel weightless from anxiety. There's a deep-rooted part of you that wants to run, but even if there was somewhere to go (and there isn't) you know your legs would buckle the moment your feet stepped onto the cold floor. Your limbs feel like jelly. You briefly wonder if he did sedate you, and you didn't know it. But there's no burning or rushing, only fear, fear, fear.

So you sit (you’re so good right now) and let him measure your blood pressure even though the cuff hurts and you hate the sound the little bulb makes when it inflates; and you manage to breathe in, breathe out, nice and big, like tells you to, while he scribbles down your blood pressure (a little high) and your heart rate (a little fast).

You watch intently as he turns and heads toward a row of cabinets bolted to the wall. You crane and stretch and try to see what he's doing, what he's getting, what he's going to do to you. The fear enveloping your chest only tightens harder when you see him set down the syringes and tubes and little empty bottles. You're grateful that this all happens before breakfast, because it would be so much more than thin, acidic bile threatening to come up your throat at the moment. You know you're trembling, he knows you're trembling; but he says nothing, and instead heads for the sink.

"Kai." Your voice is soft and hoarse. Your throat feels constricted.

"Hmm?" He's scrubbing his hands with solution vigorously, obsessively. The sink is loud, a rushing in your ears, combined with harsh wet noises of soap-on-skin.

"I'm-scared-of-needles."

His hand twists the sink handle and the room is horribly silent.

"What did you say? The sink was too loud." He speaks firmly, nonchalantly, as he removes his black mask and instead straps on a medical one. It's a clinical blue. It matches your gown.

You can feel yourself starting to lose it. You can feel your trembles turn into violent shaking. Your legs are twitching up and down of their own accord. You tighten your jaw and try to gain control over yourself.

"I'm. scared. of. needles," you force out between clenched teeth. Your teeth chatter so hard you're sure that he can hear them.

You want to run. You need to run. Flight, flight, flight, you think.

He approaches you slowly, with his palms turned up. It reminds you of approaching a frightened animal. A lost dog, waiting to bolt.

"The needles have medicine," he says, patiently, matter-of-factly. "The medicine helps you stay healthy.”

You have to be calm. You have to be calm, or who knows what might happen. Your voice is still light and faint.

"Okay. Okay, I understand that." You lick your lips and they taste like stale, clinical air. "But I don't... I don't want you to use them. Can't I just drink my medicine?" You will drink it, you think, you will be so good and drink it all and then you can get back into your soft clothes and into your soft room and underneath your soft blankets where there are no needles or tubes or snapping rubber gloves.

His eyes crinkle. The damn smile. "You can't drink this type of medicine, sweetness." He turns and picks up one of the syringes. It's already filled with something. The needle on the end is small and thin and pointy and he's going to put it in your skin.

You don't do it consciously, you really don't. But you pull your legs up on the table and scoot furiously to the back, near the scratchy pillow, against the wall as far as you can go. "I don't want it!" Your tone is so high and so afraid. 

"Shhh," he says. He’s approaching you, approaching the wild animal, waiting to bolt.

"No," you say, "no, no, no." You don't plan it. You don't mean to do it. But your body can't flee, so it fights. And as soon as he's close enough, you KICK. The syringe flies out of his hand and onto the floor, clattering harshly on the floor. You watch it spin out and land underneath the sink.

You stare at the wayward syringe for only a moment before looking back at Kai, and oh. Oh. He doesn't look mad, he doesn't look mad. But he looks decisive and firm and you've seen this look before, this you-don't-know-what's-best-for-you look, and it makes you retch. Nothing comes up except a feeling of fear and even that lasts for a second, because in a moment he's pinning down your wrist without a word.

You squirm and cry out and breath harshly, but none of it matters because in a few seconds he has a strap wrapped and locked around your wrist. Your wrist is firmly pinned against the terribly cold table and he wastes no time in strapping down the other wrist.

"No, no!" You say, and you can do nothing now but kick and cry and scream. "Please, please, I'm sorry," you say, weak and fluttering. But it doesn't matter, either, and he holds your legs down and straps them tightly as well.

When you're all pinned down, nice and safe and immobile, he looms over you. "Shhh," he says, and you no longer feel like a wild dog but something more helpless and caught. A pinned frog, open on a table. A pinned butterfly, dead on the wall. He strokes your forehead and the rubber medical gloves (snap-snap) feel clammy against your skin.

"Poor thing," he says. "I should have know that this... phobia of yours might cause a strong reaction. Don't worry." He pulls off the gloves, dirtied with the previous task, and snaps on a new pair. "Now that I'm aware of how serious your phobia is, we can work on fixing it.”

He picks up a fresh syringe and approaches you. You keep your head raised and your neck hurts but you have to see what’s going on, what he’s going to do to you. You wonder if you can choke on air. Your throat feels so tight that it hurts. Your limbs still feel weightless, but they’re pinned--nowhere to go, even if you could float away from all this.

The sight of the syringe, so close to you, so close to your skin to your body to your blood, makes you wish you would just pass out. But you aren’t so lucky. Instead you watch as he swipes your skin with something that smells like metal and you take in a big, gulping sobbing breath as you watch the needle go in and you feel it pinch and pinch and it hurts, it hurts.

He pulls out slowly and you see a spot of blood underneath the gauze he presses on your arm. You look up him, tears already trickling down your cheeks, but you know there’s no argument, no pleading, that will work.

“I’ll redo the dose you kicked away earlier, and then we’ll move on to your blood samples.”

The bed is cold and your gown is thin and scratchy and you can’t move. You can only listen as he methodically picks up the dropped syringe and disposes of it, as he heads back to the tray with the bottles and needles and tools, as he fills up a sterile syringe and approaches you again. His eyes are crinkling with a hidden smile as he approaches you and swipes another area of your arm with the pungent liquid.

“This will be my first time trying out exposure therapy. But I know we’ll get through this together.”

You can’t watch, this time, and your eyes are shrouded in forced darkness as you feel the needle sliding into your skin.

[strawberriesinmoominvalley]

how to write a panic attack

something like this has probably been made before, but i thought i’d throw my two pence in. so, here’s how to write a panic attack by an anxious mess

what is a panic attack?

a panic attack is where someone feels terrified and scared, without being in any real danger. they mainly occur with people who have anxiety disorders and/or ptsd, although they can happen to anyone.

however, a panic attack isn’t just fear. it causes a physical response. you brain perceives a threat, and goes into fight/flight/freeze. adrenaline is released, your body prepares to react. you become focused on the danger, because your brain has seen a threat and is trying to protect you from the non-existent danger.

what causes them?

panic attacks can happen for no reason, however there is usually a cause. these can be anything, from “this room is loud” to “someone just triggered me by mentioning something to do with my trauma” to “i read something about a phobia i have”. 

if someone is already stressed, or tired, or just not having a good day, that will increase the likeliness of a panic attack. something that might not cause a panic attack on a normal day might cause one on a bad day. sometimes lots of things build up until your brain can’t take it anymore. 

triggers can seem very small. for example, if you’re talking about trauma, it could be the abuser’s name, or a smell that reminds you of something. they can be things that scare a character, or a song -  anything, really. they can seem insignificant, but can cause catastrophic consequences. 

symptoms

everyone experiences panic attacks differently. symptoms are a grab bag and no two people will experience them the same. most people will experience shortness of breath and a racing heart, but apart from that it’s really up to you. the combinations can be weird and strange but hey, that’s anxiety. i’m not going to be able to list every singly symptom here, but i’ll try to list as many as i can:

crippling fear - it comes on the tin, but it can vary. sometimes you’re just terrified, sometimes it feels like nothing good is ever going to happen again, and the world is always going to feel this way. you feel impending doom and fear and it is Bad

being convinced you are going to die. there isn’t really a better way to describe this, you just know this is the end and it is awful

feeling like you are out of control. this usually comes with the more severe ones, as it can feel like you are going crazy

a racing heart - your body feels like it needs to fight or flee from something, so it is preparing to do so

shortness of breath - this is terrifying. it can feel like something is pressing into your chest, and your throat is closing up. you can choke and gasp and never feel like you have enough air. this usually causes you to hyperventilate

dizziness and feeling lightheaded - this usually comes from hyperventilating. your character may hand to sit down suddenly, or, if they’re stubborn like me and refuse to for whatever reason, just dramatically faint

feeling nauseous - most people will feel sick/have terrible stomach cramps, but not throw up. i have, but it’s happened only once

hot/cold flashes

sweating

goosebumps

chest pains - from my experience, your chest just aches and feels heavy, although sometimes it can cause you to double over in pain

crying - anyone can cry during a panic attack. it can cause them to hyperventilate worse, because it’s hard to breathe when you’re sobbing

screaming - sometimes anxiety can come out of anger. they might scream incoherently at people, and can completely wreck their voice in doing so

loss of speech - this can be awful, especially if you’re trying to communicate to someone what’s happening

shaking/trembling - everyone shakes when they’re anxious, but imagine your whole body doing it. you can’t control it, and can barely control your actions

ringing/buzzing ears - this can be mild, or to the point where you can barely hear

talking to yourself/babbling/repeating phrases - your speech isn’t going to be functional. at most, answering yes/no questions and maybe being able to partially describe what’s going on. but mostly, think “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” or “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck”

freezing - the character might lose the ability to move anywhere. and i mean, they could be in the middle of a road and just freeze. it’s not good

pacing/fidgeting/not being able to stay still - they might throw things, jump around, might even partake in self-injurious behaviour

spiralling thoughts - even if there isn’t a trigger, the character’s inner monologue is going to loop and be incoherent. they’re going to repeat the same thoughts over and over and over. sometimes, when they’ve had it enough, they may also have the “not this again” complaint before the spiralling starts

feeling weak, like you might collapse

derealisation - feeling like everything around you isn’t real, and feeling detached from your surroundings. it feels like your in a dream-like state, or experiencing everything behind glass. it is terrifying. this can cause you to panic more, and may even hurt yourself trying to sense the world

depersonalisation - feeling detached from your body and like you aren’t real. imagine staring in the mirror and not recognise who’s staring back at you. again, terrifying and can lead to harming yourself

these aren’t even all the symptoms you can experience. there’s a lot, and can vary depending on the cause of the panic attack and the severity. for example, i tend to only derealise/depersonalise during a trauma-induced panic attack. symptoms change over time, and some symptoms may only happen during one panic attack and then never again.

writing the panic attack

now, i’m going to break this down into three sections - before the panic attack, during, and after

before the panic attack

first you need to start with the cause, which i’ve already spoken about. once you have that, you need to slowly increase the symptoms. it takes about 30 seconds for the anxiety to set in, so during that time you have to slowly introduce symptoms. if the character realises what’s going on, they may try to use coping mechanisms to stop it, or at the very least make it nicer (i’m going to talk about coping mechanisms a bit later). maybe they can feel their heart pounding, or all their senses sharpen, or their thoughts start to sharpen. it isn’t instant, there’s a build up to it.

during this time, they might run. this is extremely dangerous. they will not have the mental capacity then to think about danger. they could run into roads, hurt themselves in some way or just get lost. this is the one of the only times where a person can override the person’s wishes not to be touched (the other being if they are hurting themselves). them being safe is the highest priority.

during the panic attack

the thing about panic attacks is that they snowball. they get worse and worse until you manage to calm down or just get too exhausted to carry on. panic attacks are terrifying, but the symptoms make it twice as scary. it’s not fun.

you cannot reason your way out of them. your character is going to latch onto worst-case scenarios and nothing will ever be good again. they’re going to spiral, think of the same things over and over and over. they’re not going to think “oh no, i’m panicking”. they might have some control over their thoughts if this is their fiftieth as opposed to their third, but they’re still going to be pretty incoherent.

if this is their first one, they’re going to call an ambulance. i’m not joking. a lot of people have no idea what’s going on, and think they’re dying. it takes a few times for them to piece together what’s going on, and realise they’re having a panic attack. even if they know exactly what’s happening and it’s a regular occurrence, it is still terrifying. at one point, i was having panic attacks ever single day. i knew what was happening, but it was still awful.

the way your character can react can change how it presents. for example, if your character is stubborn, or feels like they’re “weak” because of it (which is totally untrue), maybe they’ll try to hide it. i get dizzy when i have a panic attack, and i used to hide it until suddenly i fainted. so from an external perspective, i was fine and then suddenly i was on the floor - although if someone knows you well, they can work it out regardless, so that can be a nice way to incorporate another character.

maybe your character doesn’t want to address the fact they’re having a panic attack. they could be visibly having one, but point-blank refuse to admit it. this can help show personality, while showing that they’re struggling.

panic attacks can last a few minutes. they can last hours. they are described as brief, but my shortest one has been around 20 minutes - which really isn’t short. my longest was 2 hours, and unsurprisingly, it was my worst. when you’re reaching the 45 minute mark, the format changes. then, it’s more like waves - you get really really scared and it feels awful, then you slowly start to calm down before it starts again.

after the panic attack

once the character has started calming down, whether because they’ve realised it’s been hours and they’re not dying, pure tiredness or getting symptoms under control, they are going to be exhausted.  i’ve passed out from exhaustion before. i’ve fallen asleep in awkward paces (like the middle of the street) because it is so tiring. if they’re outside/at work/school/etc. send them home (this doesn’t happen in real life much, but you can make your world a nice, supportive place). they won’t be able to do anything more taxing than making a cup of tea and cuddling up somewhere. they might not even be able to do that. they might even need someone to grab a blanket for them because the effort is too much.

most people feel more calm afterwards, but you can get awful stomach cramps from the anxiety. but most of the time, all they’re going to feel is tired. don’t put them into a battle. maybe if it’s the morning, they might be able to do something not too taxing in the evening. but most of the time, they’re going to be wiped out.

coping mechanisms

coping mechanisms 90% of the time won’t fix it. a lot of the time, you just have to wait it out. knowing what’s happening helps a lot, and if a character has experienced panic attacks a lot they might understand what’s going on. however, this isn’t always the case. i derealise and depersonalise a lot during panic attacks, but that means that a lot of the time i don’t know what’s happening. it’s terrifying. knowing is a thousand times better than not knowing what’s happening.

obviously there are many breathing techniques - for example, inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 7, exhale for 8. there are grounding techniques - 5 things you can see, 4 things you can gear, 3 things you can touch, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste. however, i often struggle to remember these because my brain gets pretty frazzled. but they DO work, if you want to include those.

a lot of people say you should hug someone, and to that, i have one word - NO. most people do not want to be touched in that situation, and hugging, especially if it’s a trauma-induced panic attack, could induce flashbacks and cause them more harm. some people do want to be hugged. some people want to be left alone. some people want to be guided through breathing, or given water, or talked to, or to hold a a hand. but!!!! please make your character ask. if that’s all you take away from this, just remember that you have to ask before you touch someone!

everyone copes differently, so bear that in mind

i want to include friends/family/significant others. how do i do that?

if the person is with someone who they feel responsible for, or have never reacted like this around them, they may try and hide what’s happening. this can make it worse, and it is less fun. i don’t want to have a panic attack around my younger sibling, so i try and hide it for as long as i can. so that’s something to think about.

if you want a cute moment where a s/o saves the day, this is not going to be it. a hug from someone nice isn’t going to magically cure the panic attack. hell, a hug might not even help at all. panic attacks are messy and awful. they can give them water, maybe talk to them, try to help them. honestly? the person is going to feel inadequate. there isn’t too much you can do, unfortunately, and they’re going to probably end up sitting there repeating the same few things over and over. but you know what? a love interest sticking with someone during the frightening, ugly hours of terror is sexy.

if you want cuddles, think about afterwards. as i have said, the person is going to be exhausted, and a lot of people will need comfort afterwards. they may even cry a lot, because they feel awful. if they’re not up to that, well maybe your other character can tuck them into bed, or run them a bath. you can have sweet moments, but wait until afterwards for the other to look after them.

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there we go! i hope i’ve covered everything! if you need help writing scenes like this, message me - i’d be honoured to help!