#this is maybe a symptom of something but we will ignore that

[so-you-melted-22]

fuck this im gonna make a spreadhseet with all the information about my ocs, it's getting ridiculous!!

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[kateis-cakeis]

people are really so weird and so fatphobic huh

(and oops most of my commentary is in the tags XD)

[milkwands]

had a dream abt him last night

[deebris]

Save you from yourself

Silco (from Arcane) x Wife reader

Synopsis: The tender moment between you and your daughter, Jinx, is interrupted by your sudden fainting, and Silco takes control of the situation.

Warnings: Fainting, self-neglect, based on real symptoms of dehydration, the reader is a motherly figure for Jinx, and Silco is somewhat possessive in the end, angst with fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

Zaun tonight was surprisingly quiet. For the first time in a long time, you could hear the water flowing through the windows of your room, and a cool breeze carried the scent of your daughter’s freshly washed hair through the corners. It was an incredibly comforting moment to care for her blue locks; it always brought an inexplicable peace to your mind. You really needed it after the exhausting day you had.

The affection that surrounded those moments, with both of you sitting on your bed, gently running your fingers through her strands and laughing at how Jinx always ended up sleepy, warmed your heart. But tonight, that warmth felt strange and discomforting. You tried to ignore a sudden dizziness and the chills, keeping the window open as you brushed through her long hair to continue braiding it. Was tiring work, but you loved.

“Is it going to take much longer?” she asked impatiently, something you had already expected. Complaining about the time was part of Jinx, but you took it with indifference.

“I’m almost halfway,” you tried to reassure her with a gentle, maternal tone, something she liked. “Just this one left.”

“Ugh, I hate when it takes so long,” she grumbled irritably, throwing herself back into your lap. Her movement made your hands lose the strands, messing up part of what you had done.

“Jinx!” you called her name, annoyed, but softened when you felt her cling to you even tighter, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in your belly. Her body started warming yours even more, pushing the cold away, and you stayed silent, appreciating the closeness.

“Can we do it later?” she asked in a low voice, almost needy. Jinx had a thing with physical contact; it was something she appreciated when it came from the right people. That’s why she was now closing her eyes while you stroked her cheek and the side of her head.

“It’s going to be harder to fix,” you tried to argue, struggling with the duality of wanting to stay cuddled with her or return to the hard work of finishing her hair.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, and you couldn’t see, but she furrowed her brow, feeling your body temperature against her pressed cheek.

“I think so,” your whisper came without weight, not caring about the statement. Or maybe you just didn’t have the strength to think properly anymore.

You felt drained, and your daughter had noticed your lack of energy when she took your hand to play with your fingers, interlacing them in a sort of waltz but seeing how you barely reacted to her movements, letting her have fun on her own. And you always used to play along.

“Let me finish,” you asked with much effort, confused by the new sign of your condition that had just emerged: a sharp pain in your forehead. But it wasn’t common for you to get headaches.

Luckily, Jinx obeyed without further rebellion. She stood up to allow you to finish what you had started. She pulled her legs up to her chest on the bed, pouting with a dissatisfied expression while she felt you place the golden pins.

When you had just finished braiding, your fingers fell, sliding down the braid’s length, as if keeping your arms raised for just one more second was extremely difficult. And it was.

Your dizziness worsened, leaving your limbs weak, and now you couldn’t avoid feeling a hint of nervousness as your breathing became irregular, along with the dryness in your throat.

“My love, can you close the window?”

Your request alarmed Jinx, who turned toward your voice but not enough to look directly at you. Hesitant, she stood up, and when she returned, a look of confusion took over her face.

“What...?” The word got stuck as she quickly approached, placing one hand on your back and the other on your shoulder. “What’s going on?” Her desperate tone cut through you like a blade, filling your chest with guilt.

“I... I think I’m not feeling well.” You tried to hold back the tears, but your trembling voice betrayed the effort. Just a few tears fell, as if they had run out, and the pain in your muscles and joints, which had started as a discomfort in the morning, had become unbearable. The discomfort had been easy to ignore before, but now it seemed impossible to divert your attention from it.

You hadn’t paid much attention to the dizziness that had disrupted your day, but sitting for a moment seemed to amplify all the symptoms. Maybe they had always been there, silently growing, until they reached this point.

“Say something!” Jinx’s voice sounded choked, pulling you out of the haze. You tried to open your eyes, but it was hard. She was scared—you could feel it in the way her hands trembled as she held your face. She shook you gently, the urgency clear in every movement. “Don’t close your eyes!” she screamed, her voice breaking as darkness overtook your vision.

When consciousness started to return, you opened your eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the dimness of the room. A faint light illuminated the room enough for you to realize you were lying down, now wrapped in a blanket. Your hearing seemed muffled, as if you were submerged, but amid the confusing sounds, Silco’s voice emerged.

He was calling for Jinx, trying to calm her. “Jinx, listen,” he repeated, his voice deep and firm, but filled with concern. His tone seemed to seek her attention, trying to contain the emotional storm that was overwhelming the girl. “Jinx, I told you it is fine. It is nothing serious.”

Silco’s deep voice, usually so controlled, was now filled with a disturbance he could barely disguise. As he spoke, he repeated those words mentaly, as if trying to convince not only her but also himself that this was just a temporary illness.

“B-but...” Her voice broke, and the rest of the words got stuck in her throat. Jinx seemed unable to look directly at her father; her eyes nervously scanned the room, searching for an answer where there was none. “She... she just suddenly got like this.”

“Was not sudden, Jinx.” Silco took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “We just did not notice before.” He adjusted his tone, seeking a firmness he didn’t feel, hoping to convey some confidence. “It is common. People get sick all the time. She will be fine.”

He continued, repeating the words like a mantra, silently praying they were true.

“Do you promise?” Jinx’s question came loaded with urgency, almost like an ultimatum.

Silco hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard at the weight of that word. Promising meant more than just reassuring her; it meant banishing any possibility of loss or failure. He knew he couldn’t say “yes” lightly, but he also couldn’t imagine denying that reassurance to his daughter.

His gaze shifted behind him, seeking your figure lying down. When he noticed you trying to sit up, despite visible effort, Silco felt an unexpected relief. It was a sign, even if small, that gave him the strength to respond firmly.

“I promise.” His voice came low but firm, as he squeezed Jinx’s shoulders, trying to convey a security he could barely feel.

Jinx followed her father’s gaze, and upon seeing you move, her behavior shifted instantly. With the frantic energy characteristic of her, she ran to you.

“Calm down!” Silco tried to call to her, but she was already on top of you.

You, however, were lost in confusion. Your mind felt like a blur, and the unbearable weight on your eyelids made it impossible to react or understand what was happening. The last thing you felt was Jinx’s hesitant touch, quickly replaced by the touch of calloused hands, before everything went dark again.

Silco watched as your eyes opened and closed again, what seemed like the thousandth time that night. It was as if you were waging a battle against your own consciousness and body, trying to hold onto reality as it slipped through your fingers.

He hadn’t slept. He had spent the night by your side, patiently waiting for that moment when you would finally wake up for real. Making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with the needle stuck to your wrist, connecting you to the IV that kept your body hydrated, had been an exhausting task. Every time you briefly stirred, it seemed like you were compelled to move your arms, as if testing your own strength, and he found himself forced to intervene.

“I thought you were going to pass out again,” he murmured, his voice low and strangely gentle, something rare coming from him. He carefully placed his hand on your forehead, checking the fever that, to his relief, was starting to subside.

“What do I have?” you asked, the words coming out slowly as your mind pieced together recent memories and adjusted to your surroundings.

Silco let out a long sigh, somewhere between irritation and relief. The corner of his lips curved into a dry smile, as if he found the situation so absurd it was almost comical, yet no less serious.

“You spent the whole day without drinking water.” His voice carried a hint of exasperation and he carefully brushed away the hair that was sticking to your face. “Dehydration. How, for the love of everything, did you not feel thirsty?”

His question was genuine, a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, feeling small and stupid under his analytical gaze.

Silco didn’t say anything more right away. Instead, his eyes studied you for a moment longer than necessary before he leaned back in the chair next to the bed.  

“Whatever the reason, this will not happen again,” he declared firmly, his voice carrying a tone almost possessive as he crossed his arms, as if imposing his will on the universe itself.

“Sorry,” you said, the weakness still evident in your voice, but there was also a trace of embarrassment, making your words almost a whisper.

He watched you in silence, his gaze fixed as you stared at the pillow. Even pale and visibly fragile, you were still the most beautiful woman he had ever known. The soft moonlight illuminated your face, highlighting a few strands of your hair, and in that moment, something inside him softened. The hard expression he always carried melted away, replaced by a rare tranquility—a surrender to the simple relief of seeing you there, breathing.

You saw the IV, something Singed must have done, and noticing it was almost empty, Silco carefully leaned forward to remove the needle. His movements were almost methodical, but there was an uncommon tenderness. His fingers slid lightly over the skin of your wrist before touching the catheter, and that seemingly small gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if, in that touch, he wanted to send you a message: I’m here, and I will be gentle.

“Jinx will be on your case the whole week,” he stated casually, though his tone was firm, as if warning you about your foolishness that caused all this.

You laughed, the weakness in your voice softened by the playful tone. “I can handle it.”

Slowly, you pulled his fingers, as an invitation for him to come closer. Silco accepted without hesitation, climbing onto the bed beside you. He positioned himself behind you, wrapping his body around you in an embrace that, though silent, carried a desperate intensity.

His hands tightened around your waist, the fingers interlacing as if he feared that if let go, you might slip away. The warmth of Silco’s breath brushed against your neck, bringing with it the scent of the cigars he always smoked. On anyone else, or in any other situation, the smell would have been overpowering, almost repulsive, but from him, there was something strangely comforting about it. It was a subtle reminder that, despite everything, he was there—solid, present, and, above all, familiar.

Silco squeezed your waist tighter, his deep voice cutting through the silence, almost a controlled growl as he whispered against your ear:

“Do you really think you will achieve something important if you forget the basics? Forget to drink water, to take care of yourself… That is not just foolishness, it is pure recklessness.”

He held you close, his eyes wandering to a distant point in the room, as if searching for something to focus on, while trying to make you understand the weight of his words. Silco knew you had this habit of putting yourself second, neglecting your own needs for what you thought was more urgent or important.

“Stop putting yourself at risk like this,” he continued, his voice firmer, “or I woll not have any choice but to take care of everything.”

His voice, cold and incisive, sounded almost like an attempt at humor, but you knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t one for jokes. Silco didn’t care for casual remarks, and the lightness in his tone was just a mask for the frustration he felt. You worried so much about not overburdening him that you ended up ignoring your own well-being, making his biggest concern a reality: he would have to carry the weight for you.

“I take care of you… even if I have to save you from yourself,” he whispered, almost like a mantra. The words were both a promise and a necessity. He was speaking to himself, trying to reaffirm his own position, and you didn’t dare interrupt him. You just cuddled closer to his body, feeling the warmth and firmness of his words as a protection that, somehow, also felt like a prison.

[luveline]

I would love to see more of badass reader x Spencer, but maybe reader gets hurt on a case (like a concussion or something) and only wants Spencer and we get to see more of reader’s soft spot for Spencer. Idk if that made sense or if that’s anything you’d be interested in writing. Love reading whatever you write!💕

thank you for your request and for reading babe!! —your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. fem!reader, 1.1k

Emily's foot tap tap taps hospital linoleum. The nurses are getting worried about you —your CAT scans are fine, but you're lethargic. Mildly concussed with moderate symptoms, you winced at the lights, told Emily to turn them off, and haven't said much since. 

She frowns. It's not nice to see someone who's usually so closed-off openly pained. "You okay?" she asks. 

"I wanna see Spence," you murmur. 

Emily nods slowly. She's had this conversation with you already. You have a spot of amnesia, nothing to worry about, decidedly temporary. 

"Why hasn't he come to see me?" you ask. Your voice trips and tumbles, your eyes glowing with a glassy sheen. "I thought he'd come to… make sure I was okay. But he doesn't want to see me." 

"Spencer's on the way here. He was an hour away with Hotch, remember? They're on their way." 

You twitch like a displeased cat under your sheets and turn away from her, sniffling weakly. Your shoulders heave with slow tears. Emily gets up to rub your back but thinks better of it when you stiffen. She doesn't understand how you function, doesn't know what it is about Spencer alone that you can be vulnerable with him and not the others, but she won't judge you for it. She just wishes there was more she could do. 

It's an untold amount of time between your tears and Spencer's awaited arrival. You're worse than lethargic, depressed, hand lax behind your back and unresponsive to the sound of the door. 

"She's asleep?" he mouths. His hair is limp either side of his face, flattened by anxious hands. 

"Upset," she mouths back through a frown, drawing a tear down her cheek with her pinky finger. 

He doesn't give Emily a second glance after that. 

"Hey," he says softly, rounding your hospital bed, touching the tips of his fingers to your hip and drawing a gentle line up your side. His head dips down, bending at the waist to see you better in the dim lighting. "Hey, what's wrong?"

You make a small keening sound from the back of your throat. It's so cleaving that Emily wants to leave, so painful that she wants to stay. You're her friend too. Emily cares about you, even when it hurts to do so.

"I don't feel like me," you say. 

Spencer doesn't shy away either. His expression is open, reassuring as he pops into a semi squat that can't be comfortable. His hand closes around your arm, thumb feeling the naked skin there sweetly. "It's normal to feel confused after a head injury. I promise it won't last." 

"I don't feel well," you say, small, like a scared kid. 

"I know." 

You reach for him. Emily knows Derek would never believe it, your hands stretched out almost desperately, the pleading noise yanked from between teeth normally gritted. Spencer wraps long arms around you with the ease of someone who's done it before, maybe exactly like this. 

"It's okay," he says. He's speaking with pep he doesn't feel. Emily can see he's stressed in the high pinch of his shoulders, but he's putting on a show for you. "You don't have to be scared. It's okay." 

The perpetual line carved between Hotch's brows seems deeper as he enters the room. Neither of you look up, your back loosening under the lazy back and forth of Spencer's hand. 

"Concerning, right?" Emily asks. 

Hotch ignores her, but not for lack of agreement. "What do her observations say?" 

"Mild to moderate head injury, post-concussion amnesia, fractured index and middle finger on her left hand." 

"Where are her clothes?" he asks. 

"They can't check her out until she gets her fingers cast and all she brought in her go bag was slacks." 

"I'll get her some pyjamas," Hotch says. 

Emily's not sure what's funnier, the idea of you in pyjamas, the image of Hotch choosing a pair, or the word pyjamas in his stoic murmur. He lingers to make sure you're okay, his eyes tracking the tremble of your arms as Spencer talks too low to hear in your ear, having sat down on the bed and curled himself around you protectively. 

You moan something sad and Spencer laughs, your hospital gown crinkling as he massages the top of your shoulder. "Why would you say that?" he asks lightly. "You think you know better than me? Really?" 

"Of course not," you say. If it were anyone else, you'd have knocked them off the bed already. 

"I don't remember you having an eidetic memory," he furthers. 

You actually manage to laugh for the first time since your initial injury. "I don't remember anything right now," you say. 

Emily leans over to Hotch. "You know, when we first came in, I suggested to the nurse that she might have amnesia because she kept asking me where she was, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, well, good thing you're not a nurse." 

Hotch scoffs a laugh. "It's a little surprising even now. Seeing them together, you'd never think it." 

"Think what?" Emily asks, fond rather than judgemental. "That she's as emotional as a China teacup?" 

"I'll remember for both of us," Spencer murmurs, stroking your face. "Okay? So calm down." 

Derek once told you to calm down and felt the cold of your icy attitude for a ragged week. Spencer says it and you take a visible deep breath, your head laying back in your pillows, his hand quick to cup the side of your neck. "Okay," you say quietly. 

"It's not just that," Hotch says, failing to explain further. 

He doesn't have to. Emily knows what he means. You can be snippy, aloof, unfriendly. But it's not just your softening that's surprising, it's Spencer's growing confidence. The ease with which he handles you, hands unabashed in their comforting. 

"Want me to find you something to wear?" Spencer asks. 

"We got it," Hotch interrupts. "Take it easy, Y/N. Rest." 

You nod obediently. He and Emily leave, hearing a last snippet of conversation as the heavy door closes behind them. 

"You wanna sign my cast, when they do it?" you ask hopefully. 

"Are you kidding? I'd love to. I've always wanted to sign someone's cast, and it's good for your morale." 

"Will they be in a cast long, do you think?" 

"They should be healed in about six to eight weeks, but you may not regain full strength for another two months afterward. There have actually been studies…" 

[moonstruckme]

hi i have an unhealthy attachment to your doctor!remus content…could i request a fic where reader is hiding some type of health problem from him or maybe ignoring it, and when something bad happens he finds out and is all stern with her and his usual worried self? i <3 this man, thank you truly for sharing your writing and doing it so well!!

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: description of vertigo, mention of nausea

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re sick of being miserable. You had a cold, which had turned out to be the flu, which had turned into a sinus infection, and your poor, sweet boyfriend had weathered it all with you. Remus had made you soup. He’d warmed damp towels for your sinuses. He’d stayed home from work a couple of days, and rubbed your back, and your chest, and your temples when they ached, and supplied you with name-brand medicines. He’d been so, so patient when you were whiny and awful to be around. So now, when your sinus infection has turned into this heinous ear pain, you’ve decided you’re done with it. 

You won’t entertain your body with its miseries any more. You certainly won’t be making it Remus’ problem. 

It’s easy not to feel miserable when you wake up before him on a slow Saturday morning. There’s a line of sunlight reaching across the room from the crack in your curtains, Remus’ face lovely even in shadow. He could use a haircut, you think fondly. It’s starting to cover the tops of his ears, which you think is a rather endearing look on him even if you have to agree when he says it’s not very professional. 

Eventually his eyes blink open. He smiles when he finds you watching him, the stretch of his lips sleepy and content. You draw a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose. 

“I think,” you say, “that we should stay here all day long.” 

Remus’ smile widens, and it takes half a second after his mouth begins moving for you to realize you can’t hear him properly. You pick your good ear up off the pillow as subtly as you can, propping your chin on your hand. You ignore the wave of dizziness that follows. 

“...what you really want? You’ve been home nearly all week,” says Remus. “What if we went on a walk today? We could go to that park you like, the one with the lake.” 

You shove down the dread that rises in your chest. This is what you want. You want to get over being poorly and get back to your life. 

“You’re right,” you say brightly. “That sounds great.” 

Remus peers over you to check the time. “Oh. God, we slept in, didn’t we? We may have to go soon if we want it to still be nice out.” 

“That’s alright,” you say easily. “I’ll be right after you, I just have to pick out what I’m going to wear.” 

Remus leans forward to peck you on the forehead, getting out of bed with a sleepy groan. He stretches his neck this way and that, movements sluggish as he goes toward the bathroom. 

Your movements are sluggish for different reasons. You sit up slowly, fighting through the vertigo that sloshes the room about you in protest. It wasn’t this bad yesterday. 

You discover a series of new miseries as you get dressed with cautious, snail-like movements. Your ear hurts something awful. More than that, the pain has spread to most of your head. The constant dizziness quickly results in a low nausea. You’re genuinely uncertain whether the ringing in your ears is a symptom of your ear infection or a warning bell of your impending insanity. 

Putting on your trousers is an ordeal. By the time you sit down on the bed to pull on socks, your resolve has spiderweb cracks spreading and threatening to unleash a meltdown. 

But you’re stubborn. You can do this, you think. If you’re only walking on even ground in the park, and Remus’ hand is in yours, you’re sure you can manage. The internet said your symptoms wouldn’t last long anyway—maybe they’ll clear up as the day goes on. 

“...ove? Dove?” 

You look up as Remus comes to stand in front of you, swallowing when the world spins. In the center of the swirl, you think he’s smiling. His hand cups your face. 

“You seemed off in your own world there,” he says fondly. 

You smile and hum, keeping your head perfectly still so that the spinning slows. Remus’ eyebrows twitch towards each other. 

“You alright?” 

“Mhm, yeah.” You cup your hand over his, holding onto it as you stand. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re ready?” he asks while you pull him towards the door. You sway a bit in your effort to walk at a normal pace, reaching for the doorframe. 

The hallway in front of you looks like a funhouse horror. You put one foot in front of the other as surely as you can. “Yeah,” you say. “Aren’t you?”

Remus’ hand tightens on yours. You don’t understand why for a moment, but then you’re falling sideways, his hands catching you around the waist. 

“Dove.” His stern voice is slightly alarmed and largely disembodied, your eyes unable to find his face in the whirling mass in front of you. “What’s going on?” 

Like an overinflated balloon popping, you burst into tears. 

Remus collects you to his chest, holding your head securely against him as he half carries you back to the bed. It doesn’t prevent your dizziness entirely, but it helps. 

“What’s happening?” he asks more gently as you sniff and whimper. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know.” 

“I think it’s an ear infection,” you say in a small voice. “It hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m so—” You take in a short breath. “—so dizzy I feel sick.” 

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright.” Remus pets the back of your head, shushing you until you calm some. 

“Sorry,” you whimper. 

“What are you sorry for, love? For crying?” 

Your sniffly silence is answer enough. 

Remus sighs. “Why did you try to act like nothing was wrong?” 

“Because,” you say thinly, “I’m tired of things being wrong. I just want—” You pause, pressing your lips together to avoid crying again. “I want to feel normal.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your boyfriend’s mix of disappointment and sympathy only brings you closer to tears. “You can’t will it, my love. And you can’t pretend this away. These are the sorts of things I need to know about.” 

You blink away the blur of tears, grateful that your world has finally straightened out. You press your head closer to Remus’ chest. “I wanted to give you a break, too,” you admit. “The internet said it would go away in a couple of days, so I figured I’d just ride it out.” 

“Mm, a middle ear infection would.” 

You stiffen. “What does that mean?” 

The kiss Remus drops to your head is heavy with compassion. “Vertigo like this comes with an inner ear infection, dove. They take longer to go away, sometimes weeks, but the process can be sped up with antibiotics.” 

He pauses while you process this. 

“You know, the sort prescribed by a doctor.” 

“Oh.” 

He chuckles fondly, kissing your head again. “This is why you tell me things. Understand?” 

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around his middle, clinging pathetically. “I’m sorry. Help me.” 

“I will, sweetheart. Think you can lay down and be still while I nip to work and the pharmacy?” 

You don’t think you’ll have any problems there.

[pathologicalreid]

I'm a terrible writer but always get good ideas lmao

Idk if you've ever seen friends or not but there is this one scene where Rachel and Ross go to a sonogram appt and she has a whole breakdown cause all she saw on the sonogram was a blob and not a baby. (I'm pretty sure it was like their first appt or something idk)

I'm a sucker for dad!spence and you're one of my favorite writers for him.

Feel free to totally ignore this if this is trash lol💓

amorphous | S.R.

your first appointment goes exactly how you expected it to, but not at all how you wanted it to

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff w/ comfort content warnings: pregnancy, ultrasounds, doctors, pregnancy symptoms, emetophobia warning word count: 795 a/n: i have never seen friends but i hope that this fic does your request justice. ilysm.

You put on a brave face as you accepted your appointment card from the secretary, thanking her for her time before sliding the card into your pocket, trusting that Spencer would remember the date and time of your next appointment.

Everyone had tried to prepare you for this appointment. At eight weeks, all you were going to do was confirm that you were actually pregnant and make sure that you were measuring accurately. The internet told you that was going to happen. Spencer told you that was going to happen. Your OB told you that was going to happen.

None of that prevented the sheer disappointment you felt while leaving the obstetrician’s office. You lagged behind Spencer, taking the steps to the parking lot considerably slower than he was.

It didn’t take him long to notice, keenly aware of your every move as if he had developed a paternal superpower, your husband waited for you at the bottom of the steps. “What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth to respond, gesturing over to the building before shrugging, “I thought it would help,” you confessed, sticking out your bottom lip in disappointment.

Spencer’s gaze softened as he ushered you off to the side and out of other people’s way. He knew you had been struggling with the lack of visibility that early pregnancy had. You hadn’t told friends and family yet, the only people who knew – aside from medical professionals – were the two of you.

“I just wanted to see it,” you mumbled, looking sheepishly to the ground. “I thought it would make it feel real.”

He nodded in understanding, using the pads of his thumbs to deftly wipe away any stray tears on your cheeks, “You saw the screen though, right?”

You thought you had been looking at the screen, but maybe you had been so distracted by the transducer that your brain hadn’t processed what you had seen. The baby hadn’t been in a good enough position for you to hear the heartbeat.

“Here,” Spencer said, setting his hands on your upper arms before guiding you over to an empty bench. Once you were sat, he dug through your purse and produced the sonogram images that you had been given.

Suspiciously, you eyed the black and white pictures that Spencer had gently set in your lap, “It just… it’s just a little white blob.”

Maintaining your attention, Spencer pointed at the picture, “Do you see this part here? That’s the head,” he dragged his finger over slightly, “There’s the body,” he showed you. Guiding you through the sonogram, showing you every part in hope that it would console you.

“I just…” you faltered, looking at the photos as you tried to see it as a baby instead of a blob, “I don’t have a bump, we couldn’t hear the heartbeat, I guess… I guess I wanted some sign that they’re okay in there.”

Crouched down in front of you, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Honey, what’s the first thing you did this morning?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I showered?”

Spencer shook his head, “Even before that, the very first thing you did this morning,” he encouraged you.

Your face warmed as your eyes flittered up to his, “I threw up.”

“And do you know what made you so sick?” He asked pointedly. Smiling timidly, you looked down at the photos with a newfound fondness, “The baby.”

He nodded, “Every morning that you wake up nauseous and every time you’re tired in the middle of the day are all little signs that they’re doing just fine.”

You sniffled slightly, wiping tears from your face with the sleeve of your sweater, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “You probably think I’m being so dramatic.”

“I think you’re scared, and it’s okay to feel that way,” he reassured you. “We’re gonna see them again, okay? Next time we go they’ll be more than three times bigger. Our little blob will have tiny arms and legs.”

You frowned down at the pictures, still frustrated that this was all you had, “Twelve weeks feel so far away.” You had scheduled your nuchal scan for the end of next month, which felt like eons into the future.

Spencer smiled at up at you, “It’ll be here before you know it,” he told you softly, “No more tears, okay? I still have an hour before I have to go to work, did you want to get something to eat?”

Nodding softly, you put the photos back in your purse before standing up, “Yeah, maybe something with raspberries? That’s how big my phone says the baby is – the size of a raspberry.”

Tilting his head back slightly, Spencer chuckled at your proposition, “Absolutely, we’ll find the best raspberry dish in the district.”

[alwaysanundertone]

Love can be overwhelming | poly! marauders x fem reader

angst / fluff

word count: 1.2 k words

CW: mention of an abusive household

TW: panic attack, it’s not a super detailed scene but it takes up like 1/3 of the fic 🩷

tag list: @staarflowerr @liviessun @reggieswriter @call-me-mishi @moonyxoxo @jaguarthecat @queerndepressed @kerst666 @delusional-4-fake-people @twilightlover2007

part 1 , part 2 , part 3

Unfortunately, you couldn’t ignore your feelings forever, and you had to learn it in the hard way.

You were feeling slightly anxious, but it wasn’t something you weren’t used to, so you just shoved everything down like you always did and started studying. Ten minutes in, your hands were slightly shaking, but still you brushed it off, until it became so bad you hit your ink bottle, spilling the black liquid all over your papers.  

Suddenly you were in your old room, sat at your little pink desk, staring at the mess in front of you, the tears flowing freely at the prospect of having ruined all of your drawings, while your mother was screaming  at you for being so emotional; to her eyes your emotions were a burden, something to be ashamed of, if you cried you were considered a failure. Pretending to be heartless wasn’t really a choice growing up, more like a way to survive.

Your breath became laboured, suddenly the walls of your room were closing on you, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Your hands were now violently shaking, your heart galloping in your chest: you felt a sharp pain to your chest. You tried calling for someone, anyone, but your voice came out as a whisper. This was the first time something like this happened, your symptoms were just like the ones that people describe before having an heart attack: this didn’t help your anxious state, at all. 

You saw through blurry eyes Dorcas and Marlene by the door, their mood rapidly shifting, Cas rushing to you while the other one ran out of your dorm, and you could just feel grateful for being found.  

“Heart… attack, Cas” She shook her head. “Honey, I think it’s a panic attack. Come on, breathe.”

You didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath, maybe that’s why your head started feeling lighter. You inhaled sharply, mimicking Dorcas, who was now holding one of your hands on her chest, encouraging you to follow her movements.

Little by little, you felt your heart beating a little bit slower, your hands now only trembling slightly. After a while, Cas stopped exaggerating her breaths, and you fell in an uncomfortable silence. “Listen, Y/N, we have to go to the infirmary.” You started to protest, but she shushed you. “We have to, okay? You have to talk to a doctor about this, I think it was just a panic attack, but we can’t be too sure. Marlene’s waiting for us, let’s go”

You laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Madame Pomfrey told the girls to leave, you had to rest, but now you were feeling even more anxious: you thought about all the studying you were missing on to stare at the ceiling. It was pointless, she confirmed it was a panic attack, so what? You couldn’t spend the whole weekend on a hospital bed for it.

You stopped your sulking abruptly, seeing some type of movement in your peripheral vision.  It was slight, so much so that you thought you had imagined it, but then James’s head pop out of nowhere, making you nearly scream.

“Love, we have to talk, but we can’t do it here. So, crawl to me, we’re going to escape” Despite the fight you had, you couldn’t help but giggle slightly, doing as you were told. Once you were both under the invisibility cloak, staring into each other eyes, James sighed slightly, releasing a sigh. “Darling, we’re so, so sorry you have no idea how much. Dorcas told us you had a panic attack, we know we caused it” He kissed your forehead, making you melt under his touch. “The others are waiting for us, let’s go”

So, you followed him, paying extra attention to not make any noise. As soon as you stepped foot in the astronomy tower, Sirius ran to you, hugging you close to his chest. You stayed like that for a while, until you felt him sniffle: looking up to his eyes, they were puffy and red. “Angel, I am an awful boyfriend” You were about to contradict him, but he kept talking. “You had a panic attack and it was all my fault, if you want to break up, you’re totally right: I’ll leave, I shouldn’t have told you all of those things, you are the love of my life, and I messed everything up like I always do, I’m such a shitty-“

You slapped his face slightly, making him startle, then proceeded to kiss him. He melted under your touch, his hands found their way to your waist, holding you impossibly close to him.

After a while, you sighed, pulling yourself away from his embrace. “It wasn’t completely your fault, you know. I haven’t told you this yet, well, maybe I wasn’t even planning to, but I owe you an explanation. My parents weren’t… the best, and I’ve always been emotional. I know it might sound strange, but I cried literally at everything, and they used to shout at me for being weak. So, I had to build some type of armour, you know?” You took a deep breath, smiling despite the sharp pain you felt every time you talked about it, and the knot that made talking feel impossible. “It hurts to think about it, you know?”

“You don’t have to talk about it, we get it. It’s just- Why didn’t you tell us sooner? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we would have been more careful” James looked at you like his heart just broke.

“I know, I should have, but I didn’t want to be a burden. Sirius receives those stupid letters every month, what I went through is nothing compared to what his family does to this day. My mother hasn’t reached out in what? Three years? It’s not a problem anymore, I just get overwhelmed sometimes”

Remus was frowning, but it was Sirius to talk. “Listen, just because they aren’t there to belittle you every chance they get, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you; these things are hard to get rid of, and I know this better than anyone else. Your body remembers what they told you, and you have to face that, but you don’t have to do it alone, understood? You can talk to us, you can tell us what you need, and we will do it for you, because we love you, and we’ll always be there for you”

You didn’t know if it was Sirius’s words or the fact that for the first time, you felt like you were being listened to, but as soon as the long-haired guy stopped talking you started crying like you hadn’t cried in a long time, your chest heaving. Your inner child was just now understanding that her feeling had always been valid, that she had never been too much.

“Love, what happened, please talk to us?” James voice sounded close to crying, but you just smiled through the tears, shaking your head.

“I-“ You stopped, clearing your throat. “I finally feel seen”

And as they crowded on you, hugging you close to their chest, you knew you’d be alright.

THIS IS THE LAST PART! IF YOU HAVE SOME REQUESTS SEND THEM 👯‍♀️💓

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight: A Little Treat

Masterlist: Here

CW: A few pregnancy symptoms, ultrasound stuff, baby things, slight panic attack, language, arguing, Harry is a dick, angsty bits.

A/N: This is one of the more dramatic parts of this story. I literally debated on the outcome of a certain part of chapter for two days, but hopefully y’all will be happy with the choice I made! And as always, let me hear your thoughts, comments or concerns✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496

Summary: You and Harry visit Dr. Andrews and the two of you learn some things that causes Harry to react in a way you don’t expect✨

You can feel the daggers Harry is shooting at the side of your head from where he’s sat in a chair against the wall facing the side of where you’re currently sitting on the exam table in Dr. Andrews office, he’s been glaring at you with his lips pressed into a hard line ever since the nice young man walked into the room. You felt the energy in the office change the moment the Doctor stepped inside and offered you a warm smile and introduced himself, Harry all but went stiff at the sight of him, barely acknowledging him with more than a head nod and a tight lipped smile and you wanted to roll your eyes because you immediately knew what his issue was about. You simply ignore his glares as he crosses his arms over his chest while Dr. Andrews begins asking you some questions.

“So you think you’re about eight weeks is that right?” You just nod as he clicks his pen and writes something down on the paper he has on his clipboard with all your information on it. “And you’re wanting to do a paternity test as well correct?” You once again find yourself nodding as if saying the words out loud will make everything more real, that this is happening you are in fact pregnant and are here to get an ultrasound and a test done so that the man who is still doing nothing but glaring at you can learn that it’s his baby you’re carrying. This time Dr. Andrews looks at you and offers you a smile as he slides his pen into the pocket of his shirt before he turns and places the clipboard on the counter near the sink that’s in the office.

“Now that we have the boring stuff out of the way what do you say to taking a look and maybe get a better idea of how far along you are?” You hear shuffling coming from the side of you making you glance over to see Harry looking visibly unamused at the doctor’s attempt to lighten the mood as his eyes watch Dr. Andrews sit down on a stool with a set of wheels attached to it allowing him to move about the space with ease. His eyes are practically glued to the man’s hands as he starts to put gloves on as he wheels himself over to the end of the exam table near where your legs are hanging off the edge.

“Oh uh-yeah I would uhm love to take a look.” You stumble over your words as Harry finally peels his eyes away from what Dr. Andrews is doing and stares at you with a blank expression. “Is that-do you want to uh take a look?” You ask with a quirked brow to which Harry licks his lips before rubbing them together as he gives you a small nod as confirmation making you smile as you turn and look at your doctor. “Will we actually see anything or-”

“Knock knock.” Harry jumps slightly as a woman enters the room in baby pink scrubs. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you I’m Nancy and I’m here to assist Dr. Andrews with the ultrasound.” She explains with a light chuckle as she looks at Harry and gives him a kind smile that he doesn’t bother to return, instead he just looks away from her and back towards you and he feels his eyes go as wide as golfballs making his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline at the sight that’s before him.

Your lower half has a thin sheet draped over it so Harry can’t see anything other than the flesh of your calves and the socks on your feet that are currently being placed in stirrups as you slide down lower on the exam table. He watches in horror as Dr. Andrews is handed a wand like device from Nancy as she takes a seat closest to the machine that Harry knows is for ultrasounds, but the thing in the doctor’s hand isn’t anything he’s ever seen before and he’s all of a sudden feeling extremely uncomfortable. He uncrosses his arms from his chest and places his palms on his knees as he finds himself leaning in towards the screen that Nancy is setting up, needing any excuse he can to look away from Dr. Andrews as he finishes getting everything ready. But Harry can’t help but glance over just in time to see him put something over the wand like device and that’s when he decides he simply has to know what’s going on.

“What’s uh-what’s that? That thing you’re putting on there?” Harry’s voice causes you to quickly turn your head to look at him, this being the first time he’s spoken almost the whole visit minus when he was asked questions about his own health history from the nurse before Dr. Andrews came in. You follow his gaze and before anyone can answer you let out a chuckle making Harry raise an eyebrow at you as he takes his eyes off what’s happening at the end of the table near your sock clad feet and up to your face.

“Oh right you haven’t seen one of those in a while have you? That’s called a condom.” You answer as you lay down so your head is on the pillow at the end of the exam table. Dr. Andrews lets out a low chuckle while Nancy hides her laughter by biting into her bottom lip as she gets the screen ready but turns it so for the time being only her and the doctor can see what’s happening.

“Really? Jokes? Now’s not the time for this.” He snaps with a huff as he sits back into his seat and begins to twirl the ring on his middle finger, a habit that you’ve noticed he does when he’s a bit anxious.

“Have you eaten today? You seem extra grumpy.”

“Yes I’ve eaten today it’s almost ten in the bloody morning.”

“Not a morning person then?”

“What? Yeah I’m a morning person. This is what normal people call the late morning. I’m usually up well before this.” You just turn your head to look at him as he lets out a scoff and you just roll your eyes at how annoyed he looks while sat in the chair a mere three feet away from you.

“That doesn’t mean you’re a morning person you know that right? That just means your body is used to being awake at a certain time.” You explain making him let out a groan as he runs a hand over his face and you know he wishes he could be anywhere else but in this room with you, about to get a glimpse at what in his mind could only possibly be his baby. You on the other hand are a ball of excitement at finally getting to see the little thing that’s been causing you to feel absolutely exhausted at the end of the day mixed with a hint of nausea tossed in at random times throughout the day.

“Doesn’t mean you enjoy the mornings.” You add after a brief moment of silence and Harry just shoots you a look, his way of silently letting you know he’s over the conversation and won’t be adding anything further to it.

“Okay you ready?” You turn your head and look down towards your feet at Dr. Andrews who is already looking at you with a smile on his face, you give him a nod and that’s when Nancy walks around the exam table to turn off the overhead lights leaving just the glow of the screen on the ultrasound machine and a lamp on the counter near Harry to light up the room. “You may feel some pressure but it shouldn’t cause you any discomfort.” Harry tries to focus on what Nancy is doing instead of what the doctor is currently doing between your legs with the wand.

“Now Mr. Styles this is called a transvaginal ultrasound and we do this so we can get a clearer picture of what’s happening so we can confirm a few things and it’s easier to do it this way than through the stomach.” Nancy explains in a soft and calming voice that makes you relax even though thanks to your hours of googling you already knew what to expect. You allow yourself to glance over at Harry and see him just nod his head at her words as he rests his forearms on his knees after scooting to the edge of his seat.

“Okay let’s take a look here.” You place your hands on your stomach as you feel a wave of nerves take over you and you wish you could reach over and grab onto Harry’s hand for comfort but currently he just so happens to be the least comforting person you know. “You’re doing great. Just try to relax for me.” You just nod and let out a deep breath and then all of a sudden you see Nancy’s eyes go wide momentarily before she turns to look at Dr. Andrews and taps a few places on the screen, you watch him lean in towards the screen and a small smile makes its way onto his face.

“Congratulations.” You feel a wave of relief wash over you as the word slips out of his mouth while Nancy turns the screen finally allowing you and Harry to see it. “You’re having twins and it looks like you’re-” Harry’s voice quickly interrupts him before he can finish his sentence.

“I’m sorry you-you said uhm-what did-what did you say?”

“I know it always seems to be a bigger shock to the dad-”

“I’m not-we don’t know if I’m-”

“Twins? Like you mean there’s more than one baby in there?” You ask cutting Harry’s rambling off making Dr. Andrews laugh and nod as Nancy points to one little section the screen with the tip of her finger that’s labeled ‘baby A’ and then she points to another section next to it that’s labeled ‘baby B’ but both just look like little beans floating around in a black bubble.

“That’s exactly what I mean and you look to be measuring almost nine weeks along and everything looks good.” You can’t really do anything besides nod as the realization that you’re going to have twins begins to sink in. “Let’s take a listen and-”

The sound of Harry standing up makes you sit up on your elbows as Dr. Andrews and Nancy pause their movements, wanting to give Harry time to process things before moving on having dealt with this kind of thing before from shocked parents finding out their little bundle of joy is suddenly two of more. You open your mouth to say something but quickly close it when Harry runs a hand through his hair as he turns to look at you, his eyes are wide and the hand that’s at his side is balled into a tight fist and you know he’s panicking and right now you can’t do anything about it because your legs are in the air and you have nothing on your lower half besides a sheet.

“Harry are you-”

“I can’t-I uh have to go.” Before you can even say anything Harry is gripping the doorknob of the exam room and throwing it open allowing him to make a swift and in your opinion, slightly dramatic exit. You stare at the door for a few minutes, thinking that maybe he just needs some air and he’ll be back but deep down you know better, this is the same man who left your apartment without saying goodbye and doesn’t handle situations like this well at all.

“Sorry about him.” You apologize with a sigh as you bring your focus back to Dr. Andrews who just gives you a nod and a small smile while Nancy gives you a look that tells you she wants to say something but she doesn’t, she just smiles at you and begins printing off photos from the machine.

“No need to apologize.” Dr. Andrews says quickly brushing the incident off. “Now do you want to hear your babies heartbeats?”

You let out a heavy sigh as you exit the elevator and step into the hallway your apartment is on, you adjust your hold on the box that’s currently now being held with one hand so you can dig around in your purse for your house key. It’s not until you’re further down the hallway that you notice him, sitting with his back against your front door with his knees bent allowing his feet to be firmly planted on the floor while his hands are resting flat against his stomach and you squint your eyes a bit to see the back of his head is resting against your door and his eyes are closed. You want to turn around and head for the elevator and leave him sitting there but his eyes shoot open and his head turns in your direction when a tube of chapstick falls out of your purse and hits the floor with a clunk.

“Shit.” You mumble as you look down at the chapstick that decided to betray you and announce your presence to the one man you don’t want to talk to or see and if it wasn’t your favorite one you would let it sit there and turn around and go back to the elevators or make a quick escape down the stairwell. You let out a huff as you squat down so you can quickly grab the tube and shove it back into your purse but when you go to stand up you feel a hand on the bottom of the box you’re trying to keep from tipping over, gently taking it from you.

“Are these donuts?” You ignore him as you steady yourself once you stand back up. “You shouldn’t eat all these at once that’s a lot of sugar.” You roll your eyes as you quickly take the box from him and walk the few feet to your door.

“You didn’t tell me he was a man.” Harry all but blurts out after a moment of uncomfortable silence and you lift your head to send him a glare as you stop right in front of your door. You knew that’s why he was is a foul mood at the beginning of the appointment, but you just didn’t think he’d bring it up now considering that’s not the biggest issue the two of you have to get through regarding his behavior today.

“Yes I did.” Harry wants to roll his eyes because he’s sure you didn’t but at the moment he can’t be bothered to because he’s just glad you finally decided to speak to him even if it’s in the most annoyed tone of voice he’s ever heard come out of another person before. “I said he has good reviews and he had an appointment today at nine. It’s not my fault you lack basic reading comprehension skills and didn’t catch it.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest as you speak, his mind mentally going over your messages and he hates that you’re right, hates that he did miss the little hints that he knows he could’ve easily picked up if he would’ve just paid a bit more attention.

You feel his eyes on you as you move the box to one hand and go back to digging around in your purse for your house key. Normally you have it out and ready to go, but today has been anything but normal so you just let out a small sound of frustration as you touch the bottom of your bag and don’t feel the familiar coldness of your metal key ring. Harry chews on his bottom lip as he watches you struggle to hold a box of donuts in one hand and dig around in your giant bag with the other, and he swears he’s never sees someone constantly be at odds with their purse before, it’s as if it hides your belongings from you on purpose. After a few minutes he decides he can’t watch you struggle any longer as he lets out an annoyed huff and uncrosses his arms so he can reach over from where he’s stood next to you with his body turned towards you, while yours is facing your door in what he knows is an attempt to not have to look at him and grabs the strap of your purse, that to his surprise you let slide off your shoulder without any resistance.

“You and this fucking bag.” He mumbles as he opens it up and you just roll your eyes as you turn so you’re now facing him as he digs around in your purse. “What’s the point of having so much shit in here if it takes you forever to even find it?” He asks as his brows pinch together when his hand comes in contact with something sleek but when he pulls it out and sees it’s just your AirPods case he tosses it back into the bag with a groan.

“Thank god.” He sighs a few moments later once he finally finds your keyring that has your car key as well as your house key on it. He drops your bag by his feet so he can put your key into your lock but before he can open the door you reach out and grab the doorknob keeping it closed.

“No.” Harry drops his hand from the door as he raises a brow at you making you just shift the box in your hand so it’s resting partially on your hip as you stare at him with an unreadable expression on your face.

“What do you mean no?”

“Oh you don’t hear that word a lot do you? I mean no as in you’re not allowed in my apartment.”

“What? But we-”

“There is no we.” Harry swallows hard as he watches your eyes get a familiar sheen to them. “There’s you and then there’s us.” His eyes glance down to your free hand that rests on your stomach and he instantly knows who you mean when you say us and it makes his stomach do a flip at the reminder that you’re carrying twins.

“Listen I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Your voice is low as you try to blink away the tears that are beginning to make your vision a little blurry. “You left me in the middle of an exam just to be sitting at my front door hours later so you can say sorry? No that’s not how this works.” Harry feels like his heart is beating a mile a minute as you sniffle a few times between your words.

“I just got-”

“I don’t care.” You state cutting off whatever excuse he was about to toss your way as you bend down and grab the strap of your purse that’s still by Harry’s feet. “I don’t think we should talk until you get the results of the paternity test back. Which you still have to go give your sample for by the way since you left before they could get it.” You say with as much conviction you can muster in your slightly emotional state but you internally give yourself a pat on the back for getting all out in one go.

For once Harry doesn’t know what to say, he knows you’re upset and he knows right now there’s not a lot you’ll let him do or say to make it up to you so he just nods his head thinking that the least he can do is give you what you’re asking for without starting an argument.

“I agree yeah-yeah that’s a good idea.” You look at him almost in shock at how quickly he agrees to your request but of course he would agree to not speaking to you for a bit, something you assume he’s looking forward to. You sling your purse strap over your shoulder with an annoyed huff before reaching for your doorknob and Harry has to stop himself from reaching out and opening it for you.

“You know I was so excited about today because I just wanted to have that moment of like oh wow this is all happening when I saw my baby or I guess my babies for the first time and you- you had to go and fucking ruin it.” Harry hears you let out a shaky breath as a few tears make their way down your cheeks. “You Harry Styles are an asshole.” Your voice is watery but the words still sting as they reach his ears and the tears are free flowing now as you sniffle, but before he can even attempt to say anything, not that he would dare try to defend himself given the state you’re currently in; you open your door and take a step inside.

But just as you turn to close it Harry instinctively takes a step back wanting to give you some space, you glance down at the box in your hand and then look up at him allowing him to really get a good look at your face and that’s when the reality of what he’s actually done begins to set in. He watches as every blink causes more tears to slide down your slightly blotchy cheeks, the tip of your nose is pink from sniffling due to the unavoidable snot that comes with these types of tears but the worst of it is the look in your eyes that makes it almost painful for him to keep the intense eye contact with you because it’s a look that tells him this is all his fault. He’s the reason that a day you intended to be happy and joyful turned into you crying in front of your door while telling him you don’t want him to come inside.

“And yes these are donuts. I thought I deserved a little treat after everything I dealt with today.” Your voice snaps Harry out of his thoughts just in time for him to watch you close the door and when he hears the sound of your deadbolt he knows there’s no chance of you coming back out to talk to him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, just staring at the gold lettering nailed to your door that says your apartment number, 5C but he knows it’s long enough that when he does finally move to run a hand through his hair his knuckles feel tight as if he’d been making a fist the whole time without meaning to. He lets out a long sigh as he turns to begin walking towards the end of the hall where the elevators are. He reaches into his front pocket for his phone but instead of calling for his driver he scrolls through his contacts in a anxious hurry to find the one person that he knows will tell him what to do and try to help him fix things. And Harry needs to fix things because right now he’s so lost in his own thoughts and feels as if he’s drowning in a pool of anxiety and stress that it’s causing him to hurt other people and that’s not who he is or wants to be. He needs help un-muddling his mind and seeing things more clearly and there’s only one person who can do that for him.

Everything happens in a blur as he steps into the elevator, not remembering even hitting the down button as he frantically thumbs at his screen until he finally lands on the name he’s looking for. He looks up just as the doors open on the ground floor of your building and the moment he walks out of the small space he hits the call icon and brings the phone up to his ear while he heads towards the front entrance of your complex. It’s darker outside than it was when he first got to your apartment, a sign that he sat outside your door for at least a few hours and stood there a good bit after you told him he couldn’t come inside.

“Harry?” He doesn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he feels his lungs release a deep exhale as soon as her voice floats through the receiver and into his ears after a few rings, he doesn’t miss the slight scratchiness to it letting him know she was probably asleep before he decided to call.

“What’s wrong?” Of course she asks that, of course she knows there’s something wrong. It’s only then that Harry feels as if all the events of the past few weeks from you first contacting him about being pregnant to the exam this morning hit him and his eyes begin to sting and his heart feels as if it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Mom I-I.” He starts to talk but then has to stop and take a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down but it’s pointless as he feels tears begin to gather at his waterline and his lungs feel as if they can’t take in enough air all of a sudden. “I don’t know-know what to-to do.” He manages to get out between shaky breaths as he stops walking when he spots a bench and that’s where he finally allows himself to break down, on an uncomfortable wooden bench on a dimly lit street only a few feet from your apartment complex while on the phone with his mom.

[girlgenius1111]

don't doubt us.

ingrid x mapi x reader

r gets sick. mapi and ingrid get overprotective. r pushes herself too hard, but her girlfriends know what she needs better than she does

18+ smut!

-----

It started with a rain game; everyone had gotten a bit of a cold from it, but it spiraled into something worse for you. Maybe because, at first, your girlfriends were sicker than you, so you'd ignored your own, milder symptoms, in favor of waiting on them hand and foot. As they got better, you got worse.

You'd gone to bed the night before with a slight fever, a dry cough, and a stuffy nose you were definitely playing down to Ingrid and Mapi. You woke up, however, to a hazy darkness around you, and one of your girlfriend's soft voices in your ear. You couldn't really focus on what she was saying, or really who was talking; all you could think was that you were too hot.

Ingrid had shaken Mapi awake a few minutes before, after waking up herself to the sound of you wheezing in your sleep. They'd listened carefully for a minute, before rolling you onto your back to try to improve your airflow. When you kept wheezing, Ingrid gently tried to rouse you.

"Elskling, wake up for me please," she said, watching as your eyes fluttered open and shut. You only groaned in response, turning on your side to roll into Mapi's chest. It was comfortable there, soft. Mapi smelled like... Mapi, like trees and fresh air, a scent you deeply related to feeling safe, and you weren't very interested in leaving that feeling behind.

"No, princesa, you need to wake up," the Spaniard said easing you again onto your back.

"Nooo," you whined pitifully, voice a raspy whisper, eyes tightly shut again.

"Sí, amor, venga," Mapi murmured, running a finger lightly over the creases in your forehead, wincing at the heat radiating off your skin. You cracked an eye open, about to tell your girlfriends to leave you alone, but instead, you broke into a violent coughing fit. The other girls hauled you up into a sitting position, hovering anxiously as you coughed, wheezing on every sharp inhale.

"Breathe, love," Ingrid said, rubbing her hand up and down your back. You could only shake your head at her. Your expression was one of panic as you realized you couldn't stop coughing. A hand on you cheek coaxed you to look away from Ingrid, and towards Mapi.

"Relax, mi niña, do not panic," Mapi encouraged, holding your face to keep your eyes on her. She over-exaggerated her own breaths, and your coughing slowly stopped. It took you a while to catch your breath, and your girlfriends seemed to be having a silent conversation around you. Ingrid handed you a glass of water, which you drank carefully. When you were done, you handed it back to Ingrid, leaning heavily into Mapi. Her tattooed arms wrapped around you, pulling you into her, and she couldn't help but notice the way your body shook, or the sound your chest made every time you breathed in. The Norwegian scooted closer to the both of you until you were squished in between them. You'd relaxed slightly, but you tensed back up at the words Ingrid spoke into your ear.

"We need to go to the doctor, love," she stated delicately. You opened your mouth to argue, but Mapi was talking before you could.

"No, no arguments. Your breathing sounds awful, you could have pneumonia."

You rolled your eyes. "I don't have pneumonia, don't be ridicu-" you were cut off by another coughing fit. Once you'd stopped coughing, you looked between the girls next to you. It was dark, and you couldn't make out much of their expressions, but both of them seemed to be looking at you expectantly.

"Fine."

-----

You did have pneumonia, it turned out. How you were so sick was beyond you, but you couldn't argue much about the fuss Ingrid and Mapi were making over you, laid in a hospital bed with an oxygen mask pulled over your face. You thought it was overkill, and you'd tried to take it off, but Ingrid had looked like she might tape it to your face if you removed it, so you left it.

You were sleepy, but not quite comfortable enough to sleep. The IV pulled at your skin, and your lungs felt like they weren't expanding all the way. Mapi was dead asleep in a chair on your other side, her face resting next to where her hand held yours. Ingrid sat in a chair next to the bed, her fingers tracing patterns over your forehead. Your eyes kept fluttering shut, and you would start to drift off, but something would wake you; a pinch of pain from the needle in your hand, a beep from the monitor you were connected to, a loud voice from down the hall. You had startled back awake multiple times, and Ingrid sighed, knowing you needed to rest.

"Can I do something to make you more comfortable?" she whispered, minding the Spaniard's sleeping form on your other side. You briefly pulled the mask away from your face to answer her.

"You could get me out of here." You whispered back, ignoring the way Ingrid's expression tightened. Your inability to admit you weren't well was something that came up often in your relationship; it annoyed Ingrid and Mapi to no end, but they couldn't be mad at you, not really.

"Not gonna happen, elskling." Ingrid responds, kissing your cheek as you pout slightly. Struck with an idea, though, a smirk finds its way onto your face.

"Watch," you instruct Ingrid, before turning to Mapi.

"OW!" you cry, jerking your hand away from Mapi's. She jerks awake, sitting up in her chair, looking around frantically.

"What? What is it? What hurts?" she demands, eyes scanning you. You laugh, and Ingrid scolds you lightly. Mapi's eyes narrow, and she leans back in her chair, glaring at you. Ingrid pulls the mask back over your face, allowing it to snap into your skin just slightly. You're still laughing, and Ingrid shakes her head.

"Is that what I get for making you come to the hospital?" Mapi questions. You pull the mask away again, ignoring Ingrid's annoyed huff.

"No, that's what you get for sleeping when I'm the sick one, and I can't fall asleep." You're kind of joking, but Mapi's expression softens entirely, and she stands, gesturing for you to make room on the bed. With a confused look, you do, scooting over to the edge. The defender slips onto the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you until you're nestled against her.

"Better?" She asks. You turn to look at her, and melt a little at how adoringly she looks back at you. You nod in response, and she smiles, satisfied, kissing your forehead lightly. "Good. Rest now."

You nod again, resting your head against her chest. Your eyes find Ingrid, who is watching the 2 of you with a loving smile on her face. You reach your hand out, and she takes it, lacing her fingers with yours. You let out a long sigh, allowing your eyes to drift shut. They don't snap open this time, and you're sure it's because your girls have done everything possible to make you comfortable, and feel safe.

-----

Your hospital stay is short lived, and your sent home with antibiotics after a day. Ingrid and Mapi take the following days off of training, insisting on staying home to take care of you. This, you get used to. They return to training a full week before you're even allowed back in the gym, and you quickly miss their doting care, kind touches.

By the time a week has passed, you're desperate to get back to normal with them, feeling heavily left out when they return from training together, even though they're always ecstatic to see you.

You think that returning to training would make things better, but you spend your days in the gym, while they are out on the pitch with the rest of the team. They got to spend all day together, while you were alone inside. You'd been so exhausted from being sick that you'd been sleeping more than usual, meaning you had even less time to spend with them. Combined with the fact that they'd been together before you'd gotten with them, you couldn't help but feel insecure.

You know you're being ridiculous, really. It's your job, and they're doing nothing, absolutely nothing, to warrant you feeling so neglected. Obviously, their care and concern for you had faded since you'd gotten better. You weren't really sure why you felt so distanced from them, but you're extremely tired of the feeling.

So, when the team doctor tells you that, technically, you can return to team training that afternoon, although another few days of light work wouldn't hurt, you jump at the chance. You expect your girlfriends to be excited for you, but when you tell them the news, making your way outside during a water break, you're met with frowns. They both think you should give it a few days, and your chest burns with hurt and embarrassment. Again, you know, in your brain, that they really are just concerned for your health. It still feels like rejection, though, and you replied harshly to them, storming off to the outdoor gym for the second session of the day, this time with the team.

Your frustration fuels you, and you fly through the workout. Ingrid and Mapi are watching you so carefully, which should make you feel better, but doesn't. You only push yourself harder, like you have something to prove. By the end, your girlfriends are staring daggers at you from across the gym, and you are sweating heavily, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Your teammates catch the tension between the 3 of you, and leave you all alone to deal with it.

You ignore Ingrid and Mapi completely as they try to check in with you, marching right past them into the locker room. You barely speak to them on the car ride home, at which point you can tell Ingrid is holding her anger back by a thread. You expect the slamming of the car door to be the last straw, as Ingrid has never been a fan of brattiness. You're right; Ingrid is whirling you around the second you get into the house, Mapi sighing and leaning back, a mere spectator for now. You go back and forth with Ingrid in circles, until you're both shouting, and not really listening to a word the other is saying.

-----

"Because, elskling, you are supposed to be taking it easy," Ingrid yelled, not doing well to hide her frustration. Mapi sighed from where she stood against the wall, arms crossed, watching your guys' argument.

"I was cleared by the doctor, Ingrid, I don't need you hovering over me every second of everyday," you shouted back.

"Y/n-," Mapi started.

"- Do not speak to me like that, y/n. We are only looking out for you. I do not understand why you are being so reckless with your health, throwing yourself back into training like that."

"Jesus Ingrid, the physio said it was fine."

"The physio also said it wouldn't hurt to wait another week!"

"I couldn't wait any longer! If you just want to spend time alone together the 2 of you, you can just tell me that, instead of trying to force me into staying out another week," you cry, tears beginning to fall from your eyes.

"Y/n, what are you talking about? Of course we want to spend time with you," Mapi cut in, stepping inconspicuously next to Ingrid, and laying a hand on her arm. Ingrid looked stunned into silence.

"Well it doesn't feel like that. Both of you can just fuck off, and leave me alone, I don't need your permission to start training again, and I don't need you guys monitoring my every move," you snap, marching off towards the bedroom.

"Y/n!" Ingrid grabs your wrist as you pass by her, but you don't turn to face her. "We are not done here. You know what happens when you speak to us like that. We have rules for a reason, elskling, and you have broken several of them today." The Norwegian reminds you, speaking dangerously softly.

Instead of answering, you pull away from your girlfriend, stomping into the bedroom and slamming the door. You head right into the bathroom, turning the shower on, before sinking to the ground.

You know you're in for it when you leave the bathroom. You'd been rude and dismissive of your girlfriends all day, even though you knew, rationally, that they were just acting overprotective because they cared for you.

When both girls suggested you take another week to heal, and really give your lungs a rest, it felt like they just didn't want you at training with them. You hadn't even really heard them out before snapping at them to mind their own business, in front of most of the team. This, they probably could have let slide, but you kept up the attitude all the way home, culminating in a shouting match between you and Ingrid.

Your frustration also had another factor- your girlfriends hadn't touched you since you'd gotten sick, and you were aching for them. So, you used your frustration with them to fuel an argument, and acted in a way which you knew would mean a punishment. A punishment was what you thought you wanted. So, you shower quickly, trying to wipe your tears away before they stain your cheeks, preparing yourself for whatever Ingrid and Mapi have in store for you.

-----

When you leave the bathroom you are met with your girlfriends waiting for you on the bed, speaking quietly to each other. They stop talking as soon as you walk in, and they don't miss how your eyes drop to the ground, or the way you're dressed in an assortment of their clothes. They hadn't realized, until your outburst, how neglected you'd been feeling. They were wrought with guilt over it, and determined to make it better, make you feel better. They weren't sure that a punishment was what you needed though.

Silently, you walked into the room, hesitating before opting to stand by the bed, instead of taking a seat next to them. You honestly didn't know how mad they were, but you expected them to be pretty upset at your behavior. Ingrid surprises you, though.

"Y/n, come here, darling," she says, and it's not what you're expecting. Ingrid's kind, gentle voice, not the voice she uses when she's about to punish you. Normally, that voice fills you with arousal, but today, this soft voice has the same effect. This is perhaps your first hint that you need something gentler than you are expecting to get.

You walk over to Ingrid, standing in between her legs. Even sitting down, she's almost eye level with you. You look at her, meeting her eyes for the first time that day, and once again don't find what you are expecting to. Her hands flutter over your cheeks, fingertips dancing around the dried tear tracks. Instead of saying anything, she pulls you in for a kiss, her lips meeting yours. It's sensual and heavy, her hands threading through your hair as she tries to put her love for you behind the kiss. Her lips work against yours steadily, tongue slipping in to press against yours, and Mapi watches as you melt against your girlfriend, almost boneless at her touch.

The Spaniard moves to stand behind you, pressing herself up against your body, sweeping your hair to the side and beginning to suck light marks into your neck. You moan into Ingrid's mouth, a sound she swallows, one hand dropping back to hold Mapi against you. You're breathless already, and Ingrid moves her lips from yours down to your neck, her and Mapi working hickeys into your skin from either side of you.

"Don't understand," you get out, trying to determine what their game is. This isn't normally how a punishment goes, especially not when you've broken multiple rules.

"What don't you understand, bonita?" Mapi whispers into your ear, and you suck in a breath at the feeling of her warm exhales on you.

"You're supposed to be punishing me," you say, tilting your chin down in accordance with Ingrid's suddenly insistent hand on your face.

"Do you think that's what you need, elskling? To be punished?" she husks. If they're trying to distract you, it's working. You can barely focus on anything either of them are saying, especially when the other's mouth is hot on your skin.

"Doesn't matter. I broke the rules, I should be punished," you say, not really understanding what they're getting at. Ingrid reattaches her lips to your skin as Mapi speaks again into your ear.

"I don't think you need to be punished. I think you need us to remind you how much we love you."

At this, you step back, sliding out from between them. They look at you searchingly, the panicked look on your face.

"I can take my punishment, I can be good," you say, and their faces melt into understanding.

"We know you can, bonita. You are so good for us."

"We haven't been paying you enough attention, that's why you broke the rules. We want to make that up to you, okay?"

"But the punishment,"

"Forget about the punishment. We only care about making you feel good, reminding you how much we need you."

You look between them, surprised. They are rarely on the same side in the bedroom, one preferring to be rough while the other prefers to be soft. They switch off in these rolls, letting the other take control when they want to. Today, though, they seem to be on the same side, convinced you need them to remind you that they love you. Which, you suppose, you do. You've felt the opposite this week, something they've figured out.

"Okay" you whisper, stepping back towards them. They both smile at you, allowing you to slip back between them. You're leaning down, intent on resuming your kiss with Ingrid, but she stops you.

"Is this what you want, darling? We don't have to do anything, we can just cuddle and talk, if that's what you need." she says, stroking your cheek gently with the pads of her fingers.

"No," you say, breathless at the thought of them stopping. "No, I want you both, please,"

"You have us, niña bonita, always." Mapi promises, lips pressing lightly against your ear as she speaks. You shudder at the feeling. Ingrid's lips meet yours again, and she kisses you harder this time, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, tongue sliding aggressively into your mouth. She takes full control, running her hands up and down your sides. You pull away, reaching back for Mapi, and guiding them towards each other. They comply, lips finding each other in a hot and messy kiss. This is about you, yes, and there’s nothing more that you love than watching your girlfriends together. Watching them take each other apart. Unlike with you, Ingrid does not immediately dominate the kiss. Mapi's hand wraps lightly around Ingrid's throat, other arm possessively holding you against her, and Ingrid shudders, allowing Mapi to deepen the kiss.

You watch them for a couple minutes before you can't help the needy whimper slipping past your lips. They break away from the kiss at the sound of it, both turning to you, cheeks swollen and pupils dilated.

"Don't worry, beautiful girl, we haven't forgotten about you," Ingrid assures, voice deep and filled with arousal. "Let us take care of you, yes? You just relax, let us fuck that pretty pussy," she continues, tugging your pants down your legs. You nod, unable to form words. They both smirk at you, before Ingrid is tugging your top off, leaving you completely naked, and Mapi is darting off to the drawer where you keep the toys.

The Norwegian doesn't waste any time, guiding you onto your back on the bed, and settling in between your legs. Ingrid sighs at the sight of you, already wet and ready for her. She lazily strokes a finger up and down your center, smiling up at you. Mapi returns to the bed, in just a sports bra and shorts, strap and dildo in hand. She sets them on the bed, sitting down next to you. She spreads your legs farther for Ingrid.

"How does she look, princesa?" She asks Ingrid, hand stroking across your chest.

"So wet for us." Ingrid replies, before diving in, mouth attaching itself to your cunt. You let out a keening wine, back arching at first contact.

"Already making such pretty sounds for Ingrid, hmm?" Mapi hums, fingers moving to tweak your nipples. "You must have needed us so badly, bebé." Mapi say sympathetically.

"So bad, need you so bad," you reply, barely coherent as Ingrid's mouth works against you. Her tongue is dipping inside, pressing in and out of your entrance, nose rubbing just slightly against your clit. Your hands find their way into Ingrid's black hair, intertwining with the thick strands. Ingrid increases her pace, encouraged, and you're close embarrassingly fast. She moves her mouth, focusing her tongue on your clit, before taking it into her mouth and sucking.

"Fuck, Ingrid," you try to warn her, but your words are cut off as the waves of pleasure begin to increase in intensity.

"Are you gonna come already?" Mapi whispers in your ear, just a hint of teasing detectable in her voice. You can only nod, as Ingrid sucks harder on your clit, pushing you over the edge. Your legs clamp down on her head, and your whole body shudders as she works you through it. Mapi has attached her lips to your nipple, suckling lightly as you come down from your orgasm. You blink your eyes open after a minute, looking down to see Ingrid resting her face on your thigh, face smeared with your slick, lips upturned as she watches Mapi work at your chest.

Your orgasm has done very little to satisfy you, and you reach for Mapi almost desperately. She looks up as your hand tugs on her face insistently.

"Sí?" she asks, pretending to be exasperated at being taken away from one of her favorite activities.

"I need you," you whine, and Mapi takes pity on you, pulling away from your chest. She nods at Ingrid, and you are amazed at their ability to communicate, without words. Ingrid stands, tugging her clothes off, before climbing back to settle against the pillows. You're busy staring at her, at the way her fingers move down to lightly play with her own pussy, when Mapi pulls your legs, until they're hanging off the edge of the bed. She's strapped up, and she's peeling her bra off. Her breasts sit perkily, nipples pebbled, on her chest as she looks down at you hungrily. Ingrid has a perfect view of you both, you realize.

"You want my fingers first?" she asks, knowing that sometimes you enjoy the stretch of her cock in you, loving when she fucks you open, slow and steady. This is one of those times.

"No, please, your cock," you beg, gazing up at her with desire written clear across your face. Mapi smiles, before flipping you onto your stomach. Your legs hold you up, and your eyes meet Ingrid's, who is settled on the bed just a couple feet away from you. Her eyes are dark, trained on your ass pressing back into Mapi.

Mapi quickly covers the dildo in lube, before running it up and down your core teasingly. She presses into your hole achingly slowly, centimeter by centimeter. The stretch burns perfectly, and you grip the sheets in your hands, letting out a low groan at the feeling.

"How does she feel?" Ingrid husks, carefully watching Mapi as she teases her own entrance with one finger.

"So tight, so fucking perfect," Mapi grunts, pushing in further and further.

"And you elskling? How does María feel inside of you?" The Norwegian questions. Ingrid loves this, really loves this. Watching Mapi fuck you, making you both tell her how good the other feels.

"Perfect, she's perfect," you manage to stutter. Mapi speeds up then, bottoming out inside of you. Normally, this position is one in which Mapi rails you. It doesn't seem like that's her goal today, though, as she keeps her strokes deep and hard. She's hitting your spot with every stroke, hips audibly smacking into your ass.

"I want you to come with me, elskling, understand?" Ingrid questions, and you force your eyelids open. Ingrid is working two fingers in and out of herself, other hand playing with her clit. You nod, and Mapi speeds up, just slightly. Her hand is on your ass, then, and she's spreading your cheeks, finger stroking over your second hole. You've played around with anal before, but never spontaneously like this, and Mapi pauses, finger pressed lightly over your asshole, waiting for the go ahead.

"Yes?" she asks, leaning down to leave a kiss on your shoulder blade.

"Yes, jesus, yes Mapi," you moan, and she presses her finger into you, knuckle by knuckle. She moves it slowly, and you're tight enough that one finger is perfect. You feel her in your ass and in your pussy, and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. You're looking at Ingrid, who's fingers are fucking into herself fast, and you can tell she's close. She's letting out little moans, inhaling deep breaths. Behind you, Mapi is apparently close too, as she's now grinding the strap into you slightly, something you know she does when she's trying to get off.

"I'm close," you cry, "please, please can I come," you beg, and Ingrid bites her lip, watching as pleasure takes over your face, eyes shutting, mouth falling open as Mapi fucks you.

"Come." Ingrid says, and you do, walls tightening around Mapi's cock until she can barely move inside of you, finger in your ass stilling as well. Mapi presses in one final time, holding you tight against her as she comes too, with a long moan of your name. Ingrid finishes on her fingers, body jerking as she works herself through the aftershocks.

You're exhausted, whole body tingly, and you go limp on the mattress, breath stuttering. You whimper as Mapi pulls out and disappears into the bathroom. Ingrid pulls you up the bed, waiting until you come back down a little to hand you water. Mapi returns, 2 washcloths in hand to clean you both up, which she does with soft care, leaving light, loving kisses to each of your thighs and stomachs, finishing with a light peck to your lips.

Your head is empty, laying on your stomach on the bed, face turned towards Ingrid. You feel Mapi settle on your other side, and she presses up against you, nuzzling her nose into your neck. Ingrid slides down on your other side, hand cupping your cheek.

"You feel better?" she asks, and you know she doesn't mean physically.

"Yes." They'd successfully made you forget what you were upset about It seems ridiculous, suddenly, that you worried that either of them didn't want you around. "I love you both."

Both girls murmur the words back to you, and Ingrid tugs the covers up over your bodies. Your limbs are all tangled with each others and you don't know where you end, and they begin. It's always like this, after sex. You feel so connected to them, as they've reminded you that they know your body better than you do. It was exactly what you needed today, and you're even more reassured. They knew you didn't need to be punished, even though you were acting as you you were. They've made their care for you evident. You promise yourself that you'll never doubt it again.

-----

i’ve been writing this for so long you don’t know how happy i am for it to be done

[pretty-toru]

lovesick┆gojo satoru

୧ genre: fluff

୧ wc: 1.4k

୧ synopsis: megumi is sick with a common cold, and gojo is simply lovesick for you.

Gojo Satoru convinces himself that he's not jealous.

How could he feel such a prickling and burning sensation in his lower tummy, slowly rising towards his heart making his blood boil and face grow hot just because you're nursing eleven-year-old Megumi back to health? The same little rascal that he had previously gotten into a spat with over something stupid and it doesn't help that the brat's sticking his tongue out and pulling down his lower eyelid taunting him.

But of course, you're too busy doting over sweet and innocent Megumi to notice. Too preoccupied with fluffing the pillows for the young boy to rest his poor head on, gently tucking him in with a cozy throw blanket, putting something on the platinum screen with the promise of brewing him a ginger-honey tea to make him feel better.

No matter how much Gojo tries to ignore Megumi, his facial muscles twitch and contort on their own in utter dismay and his Six Eyes zeroes in on the couch-ridden boy with his lips curling into a deep frown before sticking his tongue back at him.

"Come on, Satoru. Be nice to him, he's really sick." You say as you start the kettle and reach for a mug from the cabinet. Gojo's forced to acknowledge that Megumi wasn't faking the snotty nose and loud sneezes, but he still doesn't like the idea of losing to one smug child and giving him the satisfaction that he's secured his revenge which is your devoted attention. Maybe Megumi knew that his guardian would go a wee-bit insane being treated as a second thought but Gojo will never admit that it's working.

"Hey honey, you know what? I don't feel so good either. Here, feel my forehead." Gojo takes your hand and places it over his forehead to check if it's warm to the touch and he makes sure to do his best impression of looking pathetically sick—droopy eyelids, jutting his lower lip into a pout, and slumped shoulders to get your sympathy.

"Satoru, you feel perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with you."

"I swear I'm not feeling well. My throat feels weird and scratchy, my body feels flashes of hot and cold, my head is pounding and it's killing me, and.." Gojo tries to convince you that he's experiencing every symptom he could think of and you knew he was determined to be sick. Between your "uh-huh" and "right" you decide to humor him as you follow his explanation and tried your hardest to hold back a smile when he throws in an exaggerated detail or two.

"Alright, you big baby. We can't have you feeling sick now, can we? Can't have the strongest sorcerer out of commission for long, hm?"

"Nope, that'd be very bad. As long as you drop everything and pour all your attention on me, I should get better in no time. No pressure or anything, but the world does kinda depend on it~" Gojo flashes you a toothy grin then quickly remembers that he's supposed to be sick and feigns a cough or two averting your knowing glance.

"Hmm, okay I'll see what I can do. Now come here, let's get you all nice and comfortable so you can get your much-needed rest and get well again." You lead him to your shared bedroom and reflect the covers back for him to climb onto the mattress and ensure he's warm and cozy as you pull the comforter over him. For someone who's supposed to feel horribly ill Gojo sure can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. "You seem a little too happy to be sick, don't you think?"

"Just glad that you'll be the one to help me get back my strength is all." Through his fluttering lashes, he sports the most innocent and angelic expression he can muster and you can't help the soft giggle given his stellar performance up until this point.

"Alright, if you say so. I'll get you something to eat, okay? I'll be right back."

As you're turning on your heel to head for the door, Gojo pouts and protests. "Wha- No sweet kiss to hold me over? You might be a while and I'll get lonely since you're not here to keep me company."

"Aw, sorry baby. But you know there's no kissing until you're all better. Can't get myself sick now that I have to look after you and Megumi, right? I promise you I won't be long."

"...Not even a forehead kiss? :(" He murmurs under his breath as he watches your back to him and eventually disappears into another room. Once Gojo's left to his own devices, he wonders how long it would take you to complete your task on hand. He fiddles with his thumbs and counts the passing minutes. One minute becomes five, five becomes ten, then ten becomes twenty and he suddenly cannot bear to be apart from you much longer and checks on you.

"Sweetheart, what's taking you so long? I thoug-" And there he stumbles across the answer to his own question. Megumi is being spoon-fed rice porridge by you because he claims that his arms are too weak to do it himself and you couldn't leave him starved in his condition. Gojo appears crestfallen and disgruntled in the throw blanket draped over his lanky body and with a small huff he grumbles, "So that's what you've been up to. Fine, fine I guess it's up to me to take care of myself, huh?"

"What's wrong with him? Is he sick too or something?" Megumi asks nonchalantly as he watches his mentor's dejected form return to his bedroom to sulk. You gently shake your head and offer the young boy a soft smile, but you do feel a little bad that your husband has been acting unusual lately hence his needy and clingy tendencies.

"He's just going through a phase, but don't you worry about him and focus on getting better, okay? I'll find a way to make it up to him."

When you enter your shared bedroom with a platter of breakfast in your grasp, you found Gojo hiding under the covers in an attempt of giving you his silent treatment. You place the serving tray of food on the nightstand and situate yourself on the bed beside him, smoothing your hand over his covered shoulder as he's laid on his side with his face away from you. "Satoru, my love, I've brought you breakfast."

With a soft shrug of his shoulder, he responds with a strained hum but you know it's just him being melodramatic because he could never truly be mad at you. "Do you wanna tell me what's on your mind? I'm all yours if you come on out from under the covers."

Gojo shifts his body weight around and tufts of white hair start to peek as he gradually pulls the blanket down until you meet his azure gaze and he receives your sweet smile. "Hey there, is everything alright? Did I do something to upset you?" The tender warmth of your hand finds its home on his cheek with a gentle caress and he sighs contently at the familiar touch. You're patient as you wait for him to gather his thoughts, your fingers moving to his soft tendrils in soothing motions and he inches closer to you.

"You've never done a single thing wrong ever. You are perfect," he begins slowly. "I just missed you and ever since I got back from my mission you were too busy with the kids (Megumi and Tsumiki) that we haven't had any time together and I just wanna be with you." Gojo confesses as he's playing with the hem of your shirt, feeling a bit vulnerable to look you straight in the eyes. "Oh, and another thing... I'm not actually sick I only said that so you'd notice me more."

"Thanks for being honest with me. And I knew that you weren't sick. For someone who's supposed to be good at anything he tries, I'm glad that you turned out to be a pretty bad liar."

Gojo's face heats up at that and he unceremoniously buries his face in your lap from embarrassment, as muffled words of "Oh, so you knew. I thought I was pretty convincing" managed to reach your ears.

"Tell you what, how about we have ourselves a nice picnic this weekend? Just the two of us, I'll find someone to watch the kids. And I think maybe spending an afternoon in the sunshine will do us some good. What do you think?"

Gojo suddenly lights up at your proposal. "I think you're wonderful for planning the perfect date."

"You're sweet for giving me so much credit." Your soft laughter quickly melts his heart and he returns your affections, feeling a little more in love with you as you're both sharing a moment together. "I love you."

"I love you so much more, my sweet angel."

[lanawinterscigarettes]

More Important (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Summary: you not feeling well is far more important than work in your boyfriends' eyes

Warnings: the reader is sick/doesn't feel good but it isn't specified the reason why so it's pretty much up for interpretation, House and Wilson are both loving and worried boyfriends, kind of hurt/comfort given the themes, brief and mild swearing, they/them pronouns are used to refer to the reader one (1) time in a gender neutral manner

A/N: I felt awful when I woke up the other day and when I went back to sleep I had a dream with House and Wilson that ended up inspiring this fic

When you woke up that morning, every muscle in your body ached as if someone had dropped a sack of bricks on you while you slept. As much as you wanted to just stay in bed, you unfortunately had to get up to use the bathroom.

House was still asleep next to you, letting out the occasional peaceful snore despite the time indicating he'd be late for work if he didn't wake up soon. Not that he cared.

Wilson was already up and ready, from what you could tell. That assumption was later confirmed when you stumbled to the bathroom, the sight before you making it seem as though your boyfriend was being serenaded by the sound of the blow dryer as he fixed his hair.

"Are you almost done? I need the bathroom," you mumbled groggily, leaning up against the side of the doorframe while you waited for him to finish.

"Well, good morning to you, too," He responded in a voice that was far too chipper for your taste given how early it was. "And yeah, almost." He shut off the blow dryer and turned to face you, his big brown eyes studying you with a slight look of concern. Being a doctor, of course he could recognize when something was physically wrong.

"Are you okay?" He tentatively asked, trying to approach the subject in a delicate manner. After all the time he'd spent with House he knew not everyone wanted to talk about their feelings or even admit when something was wrong.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Jus' have a slight headache." Technically it wasn't a full lie, as your head did hurt, but you were greatly underexaggerating the pain level in hopes he wouldn't worry.

Big mistake. Almost as soon as you shut the bathroom door did Wilson turn and head towards the bedroom with the full intent of waking up your other boyfriend.

By the time you were done, both House and Wilson were standing close together, presumably discussing your supposed symptoms, even if you couldn't hear what they were saying.

"I know you guys are talking about me," you grumbled out the accusation while shuffling back over to the bed. Wilson looked a bit guilty to be talking about something involving you behind your back, but House just seemed amused you still had the energy required to dish out snark despite not feeling good.

"Whatever led you to that conclusion?" House asked rhetorically. "We very well could've been discussing what traffic will be like on the way in to work, or our favorite romantic movies." At that, Wilson rolled his eyes in annoyance. House ignored him, finishing with, "Not everything is about you, y'know."

"Don't play dumb with me," was the only thing you could manage to get out as a response given how tired you were. Collapsing onto the bed, you curled under the covers in hopes that maybe all you needed was a couple hours of extra sleep.

Too exhausted for your brain to work properly, you only picked up bits and pieces of their conversation. From what you could tell, they were trying to decide whether or not they should stay home from work to look after you, and if so who it should be out of the two of them.

"I'll stay here with them. Just tell Cuddy I can't come in today because of a medical emergency," House offered while glancing over at your blanket clad form. As much as he acted like he didn't care, he didn't enjoy seeing you in pain, even if it was over something small.

"Are you sure?" Wilson questioned, just to double check in case he wanted to change his mind.

House nodded his head to confirm, uttering "yeah, I'm sure" in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching, feeling as Wilson leaned down to press a kiss to your face, murmuring the words "I have to go to work, but I'll be back soon". You just nodded, too weak to say anything more than a quiet "love you".

After he left, House made his way back over to the bed, gently nudging what he assumed to be your leg with his cane. "Move over," he commanded in his usual gruff manner that led little room for argument.

Obliging, you shifted over on the bed, giving him the space to lay down in his normal spot. "Sorry."

He let out a sigh as he got on the bed, feeling a little bad he was so rude given just how pathetic you looked. "It's fine."

The two of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke up again, your voice sounding a little hoarse. "I'm sorry you got stuck here with me. I'm sure you'd rather be doing anything else other than this."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, hearing you say that hurt his heart a little. Then again, he couldn't necessarily blame you for thinking that. "Not true. Why would I want to be in a hospital full of sick people I don't even like when I could be with only one sick person I can at least tolerate?"

You let out a snort of laughter, fully recognizing the jest in his tone. He obviously cared, the grumpy bastard, even if he didn't show it very often.

He felt accomplished when he heard your laugh, continuing in a softer and more genuine tone. "Besides, some things are more important, anyway."

"Mhm." Humming softly in agreement, you moved closer to him on the bed until your head was resting against his shoulder, making sure to give him the space to get up and stretch his leg if he needed to later on. "I love you."

A faint smile formed on his face at your words, one of his arms reaching over to wrap around you protectively. "I know." It was his own way of showing his love for you without having to say the words.

Feeling comfortable and safe in his arms, you must've dozed off because the next thing you remembered was being woken up by the sound of a door opening and shutting.

"Could you be any louder?" House's irritated voice rang out through your ears, the sound not being entirely unpleasant even if it did manage to wake you up more.

"Sorry," you heard Wilson apologize in a hushed tone. There's no way it was evening already, which meant he must've gotten off work early.

"What are you doing back here?" You called out, your voice sounding tired yet curious. "You're supposed to still be at work."

"I couldn't stay knowing you were home sick," he responded as he slipped under the covers next to you, not even bothering to change into more comfortable clothes first.

"Oh, sure, just forget all about me," House complained in mock offense, something that Wilson chose to outrightly ignore.

"But the hospital- I mean, you're the head of oncology, you can't just-"

"Some things are more important," Wilson gently cut off your worries, his hand reaching out to rest on top of yours.

"Hm, that sounds familiar," you muttered while giving House a look that said 'I know you two have been talking about me again'. He looked back as if he had no clue what your deal was.

"Go back to sleep, honey. We'll both still be here when you wake back up." It was hard to ignore the command of the oncologist next to you, especially when he spoke in such a low and soothing way.

"Okay," you agreed without a fight, snuggling comfortably into the arms of your two boyfriends as you closed your eyes and allowed sleep to overtake you yet again, starting to feel a lot better already.

End notes: I feel like I'm not very good at writing fics with poly couples which is a damn shame because I really love doing it </3

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | House MD masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @pigeonmama

[slushycoookie]

My Husband has a Symbiote! Pt.4

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4

Relationship: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: Miguel is showing off his breeding kink again, somnophilia, oral sex, pregnancy sex (kinda), MINORS DNI!!

Summary: It's the big thing you've all been waiting for.

A/N: Every time I write Miguel with a symbiote, I go crazy. He just brings that feral part out of me. Enjoy!

You felt exhausted.

The weight of your exhaustion felt like a ton. You could barely move your body, struggling to even get to the bathroom. You managed to make it to the sink as you leaned on it for support. Your eyes are fighting to keep open. All you wanted to do was rest.

“You should take Ravage.” Miguel stood close by, a hand on your back. His voice lingered with concern, “They'll make you feel better.”

You shook your head, “I had them the other day.” You agreed to take the symbiote once a week. Just so you wouldn't get addicted to having them attached to you. You didn't want to take advantage of using the alien either.

“You've been feeling this way for a few weeks. I don't like it, we should get you to a doctor.” You grimaced at your husband's concern. “Don't be like that. We have to see what's going on.”

You glared at him, annoyance brewing inside. “We’ve been having sex nonstop. Don't you think I'd be tired?”

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes, “But you're never like this.”

“I'm fine, Miguel. I just need to sleep.” You brushed by him, completely forgetting whatever you were supposed to be doing in the bathroom. Instead, you burrowed yourself under the blankets, getting comfortable in bed.

You thought due to the constant love making your body had enough. Punishing you by making you sleep for hours on end. Only getting enough energy for potty breaks and to eat something. Before sleeping again. It was getting so bad that you had to take some days off of work. You were shutting yourself inside your bedroom, determined to rest.

On your days having Ravage, you felt normal. Going through your day-to-day routine with no issues. Not getting irritated at Miguel or eating your weight in food.

Ravage hummed in your mind as you worked, feeling rejuvenated. “Should we tell you?”

“Hm?” You perked up, “Tell me what?”

A guttural growl erupted from the alien, “But if we tell you, there will be little intercourse.”

“What? Ravage, what are you talking about?”

There was silence on their end. You wondered if they were just ignoring you. But you finally got a response, “Nothing.”

You weren't sure how to take the mysterious behavior. You didn't see any concern for you to bring it up to Miguel. Only forgetting about it when your symptoms came back after handing Ravage back. Maybe it was time to go to the doctor's.

Miguel was close by as he took you to HQ's infirmary. He was worried that if it was something the symbiote was doing to you, no regular doctor could fix it. You sat on the cot, lowered eyes watching your husband pace around the room. Your stomach churned thinking about how you made him stress over you. Due to your stubbornness of not wanting to be seen. Hopefully, this was just a really bad cold so he wouldn't have to worry.

While explaining your symptoms, your spider-doctor, that's what you usually called them, lit up with an idea. And didn't elaborate further when saying they wanted to perform some tests. Miguel stayed by your side, holding your hand to calm himself for whatever's going on. He's usually touchy feely when he's nervous or stressed.

At what felt like hours, which was only 20 minutes, the doctor came back with the test results.

You were pregnant.

The doctor showed you the positive results so you could see with their own eyes. The bolded, green colored word succumbed to their vision. You was pregnant. They were going to have a baby.

Your heart pounded in your chest at the exciting news. For some reason, the idea was way below your thoughts as you didn't think you were showing any of the common symptoms. The spider-doctor reassured you that each person was different in terms of pregnancy. Some checked off all the boxes in terms of the symptoms. Others wouldn't even know if they were pregnant until their belly got bigger.

Miguel’s hand pressed against your stomach, face filled with a mix of disbelief and happiness. “We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah.” You placed a hand on top of his, “We are.”

The doctor recommended you continue getting rest. The exhaustion will fade away in due time but other symptoms may appear. Heavy eating, nausea or vomiting, mood swings, and back pain. You were more concerned about work, knowing you didn't have infinite time to take off. You couldn't take off a bunch of times to rest. Miguel said he would take care of it, even offering to pay your salary if you didn’t have any time left.

In fact, once you got home, a flip switched inside him.

He was usually attentive, close by and understanding. Now he was that by tenfold. When you arrived home, he constantly asked how you were feeling. If you needed to lie down or eat. You let him fret over you as he carried you to bed. You were feeling peckish so he gave you a list of food he could get. So you settled on pizza.

Constant messages appeared saying congratulations. Someone must've heard the spider doctors give the news. Now your watch blew up with activity of spiders wishing you well. Multiple requests appeared, asking if they could babysit the baby once they were born. You particularly noticed ones from Ben who also ended up coming over to make sure he was the first person to be called to watch the baby. You couldn’t say no to those cute puppy dog eyes.

Jess also stopped by in person to congratulate you, just as excited at her baby finally having another kid to play with. She went over her entire pregnancy experience to give you some tips. How she had the weirdest cravings like pickles with chocolate ice cream. Or how her bump got in the way a few times. Although, you knew the experiences were going to be different at the fact you were talking to a superhero. Who still fought crime while pregnant with her baby. You weren't sure you could make it to the bathroom in your current state.

Peter B. and MJ also came over one day to offer endless amounts of advice when it comes to babies. And their own experience with Mayday.

“Peter had sympathetic pregnancy for a while.” MJ admitted, causing Miguel and you to raise their brows in surprise. “He was miserable around the last couple of months.”

“I swear to you, my back was hurting all the time. I was bloated and nauseous. I'm surprised we didn't have two babies when Mayday was born.”

You laughed at Peter, “Poor you.”

“Of course he'd get that.” Miguel shook his head, close to you as you all sat on the couch.

“Hey, don't be surprised when you suddenly start feeling gassy. I was just happy to finally relate to my lady.” Peter gave a gentle kiss on MJ's forehead.

The married couple also left tons of material involving babies for them to read. Self-help books, videos, even started giving them some of Mayday's baby clothes to help prepare. You were excited to finally start planning for the baby to arrive if you could stop feeling so tired first.

You were lucky to have a wonderful husband.

Miguel made it a point to do everything in the house. Cook and clean. Tidy up the house if it needs tending. He often did his part around the house when you weren't pregnant. Now, he insisted on doing everything for you. Emphasizing that your rest was important. That he wasn’t going to let you overexert yourself if he was there. All while caressing you for reassurance.

He had also gotten more handsy than usual.

He was constantly nearby when he didn’t have to work. A hand on your belly, gently pressing against it. His warmth comforted you and soothed any worries you might have had about the baby. Soon, his hand went upward, a feel of your breast and a grunt in your ear. His hips rocking against your plump bottom. You wiggled your ass against his in small reciprocation but a yawn combated your rising arousal.

That made him stop.

“You should get some rest, baby.”

You shook your head, “I'm fine, we can-” Another yawn occurred, denouncing any argument you had.

“Let’s just sleep.” Miguel kissed your forehead before leading you to bed. You noticed his bulge and your stomach twisted with guilt. Miguel was extremely understanding, not once making you feel bad of your decreased energy. But you knew it wouldn't last long. You had read those horror stories of husband’s not desiring their partner as they were pregnant. Which led to frustrations or cheating. You knew your husband wouldn’t ever do that to you. But you couldn’t help but worry.

You had a proposition for him after making out with your husband one evening. Miguel gazed at you with apparent lust as he groped and kissed you with a burning passion. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” He gave you a gentle kiss. “My wife is pregnant. Why wouldn't I be?”

Your fingers laced through his own, “I just thought you were nervous. Since we're going to be parents.”

“I am. The thought of us with a child excites me and scares me…” You could feel a ‘but’ coming as he continued, “but seeing you like this, gets me going. Like I want to make sure you stay pregnant.”

His crimson eyes lowered, entranced at the sight of your belly. It hasn't grown much yet, still early for you to be showing. A shiver went down your spine at his gaze, “Is this you talking or Ravage?”

“No, no I think this is all me.” Miguel pulled you in close, hands remaining on your hips. “I want to make sure you stay knocked up. Be by baby making machine…” You noticed his breathing getting heavier at him riling himself up. “But you've been tired and you have no obligation to indulge me. I'm not going to exhaust you out further.” That's when he reluctantly parted, showing some restraint.

“Well, I did have an idea.” You started to say. You had been talking about messing around while the other was asleep. It was consensual and only if the other was extremely tired and couldn't participate as much. You thought this would be a great time to try. “You have my permission to use me while I'm asleep.”

Miguel perked up, “Really?” You nodded, “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this for me.” You nodded again, letting out a small laugh.

“I want to do this. Just be gentle. I'd rather not wake up to you jostling me all over the place.”

“I will.” He pulled you back in for a hug, holding you tight.

You thought this would be the beginning of him using you while you slept. But after a few days of permission, there was nothing. You felt the same after waking up for the day or from your naps. No clear evidence of you being fondled. No delightful warmness between your thighs. Miguel was cautious. You thought he wasn't ready to do that.

Until you had an incredible dream. One where he was behind you in bed, a leg draped across his arm, cock buried inside you. He was in his symbiote suit again as the large shaft was splitting you open. You heaved from the aching sensation, mind heavy and focused on him being inside. Whimpering his name as he gently thrusts into you.

Your walls are squeezing him as you climax, wrapped in bliss. He's never too far behind, his voice strained as he comes inside, lazy pumping into you to make sure not a drop is missed. The dream ended with a kiss and when you awoke, your body felt like liquid. Your attire was still the same, usually a pair of shorts with a large tshirt but your sex warm. Legs slightly sore and Miguel snoring peacefully from behind. A strong arm wrapped around the area where their child is forming.

You never caught the actions while you slept. Your dreams gave you a clear indication of what he was doing to you. Giving you satisfaction while also ensuring he didn't wake you.

Slowly, your exhaustion started to fade. The need for naps lessened, but you were still tired. So when you took a nap on the couch, that pleasant dream was coming back again. This time Miguel was buried between your legs, tasting you like there was no tomorrow. You sighed in relief before waking up to see the real thing.

The hunched position of his symbiote form over the armrest of the couch. Spreading your legs wide and pinning you down against the cushions to keep you still. Miguel made it a mission to remember every taste of you, his long tongue running along your folds, stimulating your clit.

“Miguel…” You moaned, eyes lowered at the sight. His head raised, eyes boring into yours in lust.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's fine.” You muttered, “Don't stop…” You pushed his head back down and he obliged. The small lick and sucking sounds would make you blush if you weren't half asleep. But the occasional growl against your sex made you curl your toes. You sighed, feeling your body warm up. Your fingers dug into the pillow under you while you shifted under his hold. Miguel continued to press further into you, moaning against your sex like a starved man.

That familiar feeling pooled in your stomach, your breaths getting short. Lips parting to release the sound of ecstacy. Creating warmth around your frame. You weren't sure how long Miguel was eating you out as his mouth shined in the light.

“You should continue to get some rest.” Miguel’s gigantic frame towered over you, the sofa creaking from the weight. “I can take care of you.”

Your mind was long gone as his hips rolled against yours, entering you slowly. Hard thrusts savoring the moment. Watching you sleepily cry out for him below, the grip on his bicep non-existent. Tears fell from the corners of your eyes as you begged for him to not stop.

“We're gonna make sure our kid has a sibling.” He grunted, face twisted in pleasure. “A brother? A sister? Maybe if we're lucky, twins…”

You gasped, arching your back as another climax took you by surprise. Miguel’s own thrusts started to falter, his cum shooting inside quicker than he could blink. Once again he made sure you took it all, not missing a single drop.

He buried his face on your head, the symbiote suit disappearing and showing off his naked form. Miguel held you close as if he missed the heat from your skin. “I'm sorry…I really didn't mean to wake you.”

Your heart melted at his large eyes filled with guilt.

“It's okay. It was nice to wake up to.” Your lips found his again to give a soft kiss. Miguel lifted you up, still adamant on making sure she had enough sleep by carrying her to the bedroom.

Soon, you were starting to show. And your energy was back to normal. No more sleeping all day. Your mind became clearer. Which made you finally think about your extra guest.

Miguel said he'd get rid of Ravage after it was clear you were pregnant. Yet, it’s been a few months since then and the symbiote was still here. No one brought it up so of course you had to be the one to do it.

“So? When is Ravage leaving?” Miguel paused in the middle of his work, not saying anything for a bit. You could tell they were speaking as the silence lingered in his lab. “Miguel-”

“Ravage thought they could stay a little longer. At least until the baby is born.” He interrupted.

You purse your lips, “That's not what we agreed on.”

Your tone didn't match up with your words. In all honesty, you didn't want Ravage to go. It was bad enough Miguel had to cut off them from being attached to you after you got pregnant. Not wanting to affect the baby. But you missed them. Feeding them chocolate bars or hot cocoa. Keeping you company when Miguel had to work late. It was odd to develop a decent relationship with an alien but you had to remind yourself that your entire life was weird.

“We won't cause any harm to the child.” Ravage came out to say. “Your husband's been making us watch baby videos. Their laughs are infectious.”

Your brows furrowed at the thought of the symbiote watching baby videos, “You serious?”

“Yes.” They said, “We have no urge to eat the baby anymore.”

“Anymore.” You pointed out, “That means you thought about it.”

“Multiple times.”

Miguel quickly cut in, “But they said they don't want to do that now.” He held your hands, “You know I don't want anything to happen to this baby, right?” You squeezed his hands, believing him wholeheartedly. “I promise you, I will die before I let anything happen to our kid. Trust me. Trust us.”

“You know I do.” You embraced him, head in his chest.

Somehow, that comforted you. You agreed to at least let them stay until the baby was born. Although, in the back of your mind, you had a feeling they may be keeping them much longer than that.

[corroded-hellfire]

Fic request idea baby: what about Eddie with a gf who used to have an ED but she's doing better now but he notices that she's starting to relapse like skipping meals and he brings it up to her and just angst to fluff

+ Hey if ur taking requests:

what about if Effie's gf randomly stops changing in front of him like she's getting into pj and she goes to the bathroom and then starts asking for the lights to be off during sex and he's super confused and asks her about it and basically angst bc she's trying to hide it but may be she had a slip during ED recovery?

+ Hi lovie a lil request! What about Eddie with a gf whose in eating disorder recovery like she used to struggle but it's been a few years since then and she's don't just fine but he notices she's starting to relapse?

These three requests seemed to overlap just perfectly. The beautiful and talented @munson-blurbs was kind enough to write these with me so go shower her with all the love 💚

Warnings: eating disorders, body image issues, relapse struggles. Please, if you want or need to talk to somebody, I'm always here.

Words: 1.5k

You’re fairly certain you’re living on the sun’s surface. 

Logic would say that you haven’t left Hawkins, but the temperature outside begs to differ. 

“Christ, it’s like 1,000 degrees in here,” Eddie mumbles, cracking open a cold can of Pepsi and taking a swig. He plants a kiss on your forehead, careful not to disturb your reading. 

You smile but keep your nose buried in the bridal magazine Nancy had bought for you. Page after page of wedding dresses had you swimming in a sea of white, each more beautiful—and expensive—than the last. 

Oh, well. At least it would give you an idea of what to look for at your bridal appointment in a few weeks. 

What truly caught your eye was an article tucked towards the back of the magazine. Its title boldly declares, “Shedding for the Wedding: Lose that Weight and Look Great!” 

You shouldn’t read it. It’ll only upset you, only bring back the bad thoughts and routines and restrictions that you’d fought so hard to overcome. And yet you’re drawn to it, eyes scanning each fad diet for one that might help you. 

No. Yes. No. Yes. Put the magazine down. Stop reading the diet tips and comparing yourself to the models. 

But they’re so pretty and so skinny. If Eddie saw them, he might not even want to marry you anymore. Not when he saw how beautiful women were supposed to look in wedding dresses. 

Maybe losing a few pounds wouldn’t hurt. One diet couldn’t be so bad. It would be temporary, just until the wedding. 

It was totally fine. 

“What are we thinking for dinner tonight, babe?” Eddie rifles through the pantry and pulls out two boxes of pasta. “We have bowties and rigatoni. I’m personally more of a bowtie man myself, but it’s your call.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Just gonna have some soup.” Reaching around him, you pluck a can of Progresso off of the shelf. 

“Soup?” Eddie wrinkles his nose in confusion. “It’s hotter than Satan’s tits outside.”

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Period craving.”

“You’re not on your period.”

“Well, PMS.”

Something nags at you—if you have to hide your new soup diet from your husband-to-be, maybe it’s not a good idea. Maybe you should put the can away and make pasta instead. But then you remember those gorgeous models, so svelte and sculpted and perfect. 

Soup it is. 

It’s harder to ignore the problem as more symptoms of the illness start to return. The first time you’d gathered up your pajamas and taken them into the bathroom with you, Eddie just assumed you were going to take a shower. When you emerged with bone-dry hair not two minutes later, he was puzzled. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to come across as overprotective or overbearing. Maybe there was some simple excuse and he didn’t want to make you feel like you have to answer to him about every little thing. 

Eddie can’t ignore that there’s a problem anymore when you slip back into one of your old habits that has always broken his heart. Sex was now lights off and you kept your shirt on. Eddie wanted to see every part of you, touch every part of you. He was going to be your husband and the fact that you didn’t want him to see this part of you—that he has made very clear in the past that he fucking loves—disheartens him. 

Stress begins to build up within Eddie. He feels like he’s toeing the line because he doesn’t want to sound accusatory, but he also knows something is going on with you. And he has a pretty good idea of what it is. You try to hide how you pinch at your stomach and thighs, but he sees. The way you measure your wrists with your fingers all throughout the day. He wonders if you even realize you’re doing it, or if it’s reflexive at this point. 

Though you never mention it, you always have your green journal around the kitchen. Eddie respects your privacy enough not to go through it, but reaching for the keys over your shoulder one evening he notices that you’re making a list of what you’ve eaten that day. His stomach sinks as yet another familiar pattern emerges from the days when your disorder was at its worst. Your fiancé is coming closer to his breaking point and he still doesn’t know what to do or even who to go to about this. 

The final straw though is when you turn down girls’ night with Nancy and Robin at the Cheesecake Factory. You lived for nights out with your two best friends. They knew you almost as well as Eddie did though, so he knew you wouldn’t be able to sit down at a restaurant with them and bullshit your way out of not eating a proper meal like you should. 

Eddie knows now he has to say something. Anything, really. When you walk out of your shared bedroom in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, Eddie chews on his bottom lip as he mentally prepares for the conversation he knows needs to happen. 

The moment you sit down on the couch, Eddie sits next to you. You reach for the remote but your hand doesn’t even make it to the piece of plastic before Eddie speaks.

“Can we, um, talk?”

“About what?” you ask, sitting back against the couch cushions. 

Your fiancé leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs his hands together and his tongue pokes out of his pouty pink lips like it does whenever he’s concentrating on something. 

“I’m worried about you, babe,” he finally says. “You’re not yourself.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the way you reflexively shrink in on yourself.

“I’m just stressed with wedding stuff,” you say. 

“That’s why you didn’t hang out with Nancy and Robin?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Mhm.”

“And all the pinching and not eating and not wanting me to see you naked? Is that because of wedding stress, too?”

You turn away from him and pull your knees to your chest, but he moves to face you again. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. And the last time I saw you like this, it was because…”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you snap. “I’m just stressed. Maybe if you spent more time helping me plan and less time planning stupid campaigns for a game you played back in high school, you’d understand.”

The accusation is unfair, and you know it. Sure, you’ve been doing most of the planning, but he’s been there every step of the way.

Eddie winces at your harsh tone. He looks like he has a rebuttal but gives up after a moment “Fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

Guilt from your outburst wracks your body and holds sleep hostage. After tossing and turning for a little while, you hear soft cries coming from Eddie’s side of the bed. 

“Eds?” Your heart leaps into your chest. “What’s going on?” You give him a hug from behind, latching on like a koala to a tree trunk until he turns to face you. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the way his eyes shine with tears. “I know you relapsed and…and I don’t know what to do,” he manages through his sobs. “I don’t know how to help, so I just stand there like a goddamn idiot, but I can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong! I can’t keep pretending that you’re not hurting yourself!”

He knew. The whole time you thought you’d been protecting him from the truth, and he knew. 

You wipe at his cheeks, feeling the moisture on your palms. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S not your fault, I know it’s not, but…you need to get help for this. I can’t lose my girl.” He presses his lips to your forehead and lets them linger there, holding you as tightly as he can. “Please. Please.”

No. You need to lose weight. You need to look good; no, perfect in your dress. All eyes are going to be on you, and you can’t show a single flaw. 

The argument sits on your tongue, defensiveness ready to spring into action. But then you see his brokenness, his vulnerability as he unabashedly wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Skinny. Skinnier. Skinniest. 

But then—Eddie. 

Eddie, who laid his heart out for you. Who let down the walls he’d spent years building just so he could receive your love. Who felt your pain despite your best attempts to shield him from it. 

Maybe you weren’t ready to get better for yourself, but until you were, you could do it for him. 

You nod, pulling back and kissing him softly. “I will. I promise. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll wake you up the moment the sun rises.”

At this, you have to let out a small laugh. “The therapy clinic doesn’t open until nine.”

Eddie cradles your face in his calloused palms, leaning in to gently kiss your nose. “Then I’ll wake you up at nine.”

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 4. the carnival

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel wants to take things further after you both come clean about your feelings, but some new information comes to light about your past that causes a problem.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, boatloads of sexual tension, some sexual situations but no smut

WC: 6.5K

A/N: I'm dropping this chapter and running

Series Masterlist

You awoke the next morning wrapped in a comforting warmth, but not the warmth you were used to from your blankets. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something was different. Why did it seem so much brighter behind your eyelids? Were you in the living room? Then you felt rather than heard a low rumble, the sound reverberating under your palm and through your cheek. A distinct deep, throaty, masculine noise that you never heard before.

Finally, curiosity got the best of you and you opened one eye. Your hand was resting on top of Joel's chest, your leg was intertwined with his. You should have jumped away immediately, but you didn't. You just stared with your one eye still open, watching as your hand rose and fell rhythmically with his breath.

Then you felt his hands on you. One on your hip, the other on your arm and that did it. You sat up quickly. Too quickly. You wrenched yourself out of his grasp and leapt up from the couch, the sudden movement causing him to stir and rub his eyes. Backing up to put more space between you, you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively, staring at him as he sat up and looked around.

"Shit. We must've fell asleep waitin' for the rain to stop," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and you felt an unexpected jolt between your legs.

He really should have felt guilty. He was a fucking liar. He knew what he was doing last night, but you didn't. You fell asleep all on your own. Innocent and soft and sweet. But he intentionally tucked you into his side, purposefully wrapped his arms around you. Because he was greedy and desperate. Ever since that day, the attempted robbery, he ached to hold you so badly that it was painful. So he was selfish and took what he wanted, but he could see now by the look in your eye that it wasn't the right thing to do. Shit.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, standing up and ignoring the cracking in his lower back. "Nothin' happened," he added, and you blinked rapidly at that, stunned.

"Okay," you managed to whisper, eyes wide as you tried to grapple with the situation. You stared at each other for a moment, each searching the other's eyes, neither of you acknowledging the obvious shift.

Suddenly, an alarm went off on his phone. He broke eye contact to fish it out of his pocket and turned it off, checking the time.

"Gotta get ready for work," he said regrettably, wanting so badly to stay with you, to talk about what happened. He needed to know why. Why were you so distant? Why didn't you want to let him in? He was beginning to second guess the looks you've given him, the color in your cheeks when he flirts with you. Did he completely misread things? Maybe you just weren't attracted to him the same way he was to you. Fuck, he hoped that wasn't it.

"Don't overthink it," he told you curtly, trying to backpedal now that the morning wasn't going at all like he had hoped. "We just fell asleep, that's all."

"Okay," you said again, a little more clearer now.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he glanced down at his watch and brushed past you to the door. He slipped his shoes on and swung the door open, but the. he paused, his fist tightening on the doorknob before looking back at you once more.

"See you at lunch."

With that, he closed the door behind him. You listened as his heavy footsteps trotted down the steps and then the click of the door unlocking down below. You had to hold yourself back from rushing to the window to watch him leave.

"Fuck!" you shouted out loud to yourself, all alone now in your tiny apartment. You crumpled to the ground and wrapped your arms around your knees, rocking back and forth while you tried not to cry.

You couldn't let this happen. You had to pull back. He didn't know it, but it's for the best. You were doing him a favor. But it was hard. It was so, so hard because for the first time maybe ever, you woke up in someone else's arms and you were happy. Your instinct was right. Avoiding Joel's touch for as long as possible was the right move, because now that you knew what it was like, you craved it. It's only been ten minutes and you already yearned for it again. You were weak. And the worst part was you were going to have to face him again in just a few hours, and you had no idea what you were going to do.

The diner was busy that morning. Maria asked you to clock in right away so you could help take some tables. You were relieved to have the distraction. It helped keep your mind off the time, to stop yourself from counting down the minutes until Joel's broad frame walked through the front door.

It was late in the morning when the rush finally died down and you were helping Betty clean all of the abandoned tables in the dining room. You lost count of how many bus tubs you filled up so far as you hoisted the latest one on your hip and made your way to the dish area in back. One of the other waitresses, Gina, gave you a sideways glance as you walked by. You smiled at her but she didn't return it. In fact, it almost felt like she was mad at you. You hardly spoke to Gina since you started. Your shifts didn't usually overlap. It was ridiculous to think she would be mad at you. But something was definitely off because another older waitress, Vicky, who was never very outgoing but never really gave you a hard time, either, glared and muttered something under her breath as you passed by her in the kitchen. You frowned and turned around, watching her shake her head and continue to mutter to herself as she made her way out into the dining room.

"Betty?" you said quietly when you found her alone behind the counter.

"What's up, sweetie?" she asked as she filled the coffee machine.

"Did I do something to offend anyone?"

She paused what she was doing and considered her response before setting the coffee down and glancing around.

"What makes you ask?"

"I'm probably just being paranoid but it feels like some of the waitresses here don't really like me for some reason," you said, then chuckled. "I sound crazy, I'm sorry."

"They're just jealous, hun. Don't let it bother you, they'll get over it," she whispered, then turned back to the coffee machine.

"Jealous? Of what?" you asked, completely taken aback. So it wasn't just all in your head.

"We live in a real small town, I know you ain't used to that but what people do 'round here never stays secret for long," she said, as if that somehow answered your question.

"What does that have to do with me?"

She smiled at you and gave you a knowing look, but you were still confused.

"Oh, c'mon. You don't gotta play coy with me. Connie was openin' up the boutique this mornin' and saw Joel leave your apartment."

All of the blood drained from your face.

"What?" you whispered in disbelief.

"Nothin' to be ashamed 'bout, sweetie. All the women 'round here either want him, or they want their daughters to have him. They're just ticked he's finally off the market, is all," she explained, walking past you to greet a customer, but you grabbed her elbow, making her swivel around in surprise.

"I'm not - we aren't - that's not at all what happened!" you stuttered, your face growing hot now.

"Sure, hun," she said with a wink, then turned on her heel to greet the man at the end of the counter, leaving you slack jawed and shocked.

"Oh my god," you whispered, turning away from the counter to hide your face. How could this day get any fucking worse?

You heard someone sit down at the counter and clear their throat, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew that sound already. When you turned around and met Joel's eyes, he frowned, sensing immediately that something was wrong.

"C'mon, you can't still be upset about earlier," he said as you approached, and you winced.

"It's not that," you murmured, glancing around and noticing a couple of the waitresses from across the dining room watching you and whispering. You felt your stomach clench with anxiety.

"Then what's wrong?"

You looked back at him again, your eyebrows pinched with worry.

"Someone saw you leave this morning and now the whole town thinks we're sleeping together," you said as quietly as you could, your eyes still flicking around the dining room, trying your best to make your interaction with him look as innocent as possible.

"Oh," he said, sitting back in his chair as he thought about what you said. He looked around and saw a couple of the waitresses giving you nasty looks and he sighed.

"I'm so sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I'll set people straight, I promise. Just gimme the rest of the day and I'll make it right."

You immediately felt bad when you saw the stress and exhaustion that appeared on his face.

"Don't - it's fine. You have more important things to worry about," you said, picking up a clean mug and filling it with coffee for him.

"You're important to me, too, y'know," he said softly.

"Joel-" you said, setting the coffee pot down and pinching the bridge of your nose. He cut you off.

"You don't gotta say anythin'," he said, swallowing his pride.

"It's just not a good time for... this," you said, your voice pained as you pointed between the two of you quickly, then dropping your hand so no one else would see.

The way he looked at you caused your chest to squeeze and you felt the tears burning in the backs of your eyes. You could see it written all over his face, although he tried to mask it, it was clear you hurt him.

"Can't we just be friends?" you finally asked.

"Yeah," he said quietly, then looked down at the menu. "That's - yeah, 'course we can."

And you thought your day couldn't get any worse.

Miraculously, after only a couple of weeks, the people in town seemed to move on from the rumor about you. You couldn't be sure if it was Betty or Joel or just the passage of time that did it, but the women in town stopped giving you nasty looks and you stopped hearing whispers after you walked by a table at work.

You knew it was for the best. You knew you were saving Joel from all your bullshit and that was the right thing to do, but selfishly you wished you could have him all to yourself. Was that so wrong? To just want something that was good and sweet, something that made you feel hopeful? Didn't you deserve that?

Joel stopped appearing outside of work as well. You found yourself looking for him all the time now. When you walked back home after work, when you were at the grocery store, everywhere you went you looked for him or Sarah, missing them both, but you never saw them. The town was so small, how the hell was it even possible?

At least he still came into the diner, but you got what you asked for. He stopped flirting with you and he treated you as a friend and nothing more when you waited on him. And even though you were the one who drew the line in the sand, you hated it.

It was your day off and you found yourself at the library picking up the book you had on hold for that month's book club selection. You were surprised you were still invited to the book club meeting after the rumor about you and Joel spread through town like wildfire, but you had a sneaking suspicion Hailey was the driving force behind your invite. You considered turning it down, but what would be the point in that? Then you'd really be all alone.

The library was peaceful. Sometimes when you felt especially lonely, you found a quiet corner when you stopped by to read, which is what you decided to do that day. There was something soothing about it, knowing people were nearby, but you also didn't feel forced to talk to anybody. That was, until you heard a young girl's soft, familiar voice heading in your direction. You heard her say your name, her voice hushed so as not to disturb the other patrons, and you dragged your eyes up from your book to give her a little smile.

"Sarah, hi," you said, standing up as she approached. And sure enough, Joel's towering frame trailed moments after her. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stiffen but then force himself forward. Inwardly, you cringed at his reaction to seeing you, but you knew you had nobody to blame but yourself.

"What're you reading?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to try to read the title of the book left hanging limply in your hand.

"Oh, it's for a book club I'm in," you said, lifting it up to show her. She nodded and scanned the cover.

"Any good?"

"I just started it but so far, it's not too bad. I wouldn't have picked it for myself, but that's the cool thing about a book club. Sometimes you read things you wouldn't normally think you'd like," you said, glancing up at Joel standing behind her, giving him a polite smile. Sarah's eyes drifted between you and her dad, and she got a playful look in her eye.

"Will we see you at the carnival tonight?" she asked you, and you dropped your gaze from Joel back to her.

"Oh, yeah I heard about that," you told her, then lowered your voice when you saw an older woman glance up at you three angrily. "No, I wasn't planning on going." You considered it, but you weren't friendly enough yet with Hailey to join in with her friends and you felt funny going alone.

"Oh, come on! It's only one weekend a year, and the entire town goes. It's so much fun, you'll love it!" she said, bouncing on her feet and ignoring the dirty looks she was getting.

"Shh, babygirl, you're bein' too loud," Joel finally spoke up behind her. The deep, low tone he used reminded you of what he sounds like when he first wakes up in the morning, and you felt a familiar stirring below your waist at the sound.

"Uh, I don't know then, maybe," you finally relented, just to hopefully quiet her down.

"Dad usually takes me to the same spot for dinner every year, it's a fried chicken stand and the line is like, a mile long but the wait is so worth it. Do you wanna join us?"

"Sarah," Joel whispered warningly.

"What?" she whispered back, annoyed.

"If I go, I'll definitely find you, how's that sound?" you told her, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation. The awkwardness was just too much at this point. It wasn't her fault, she was just a kid.

"Promise?" she begged, big brown eyes all wide. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Promise," you assured her. She grinned then turned to Joel.

"I'm gonna go check out the DVDs," and before he could reply, she hurried away. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought she was intentionally trying to get the two of you alone.

His eyes trailed after her, his hands on his hips and his jaw ticked to the side as he struggled with what to say.

"Don't worry 'bout it, if you don't wanna go later."

"Oh... okay," you said, and he must have heard the uncertainty in your voice because he finally looked at you.

"Unless you want to, you're more than welcome to join us. Just didn't want you to feel like you had to," he explained, eyeing you up closely.

"She put up one hell of a case for it," you said with a smile.

"Yeah, she tends to do that," he said with that grin that made your knees weak, then dropped his gaze to the floor.

You were so stupid. Why did you push him away? Well, you knew why, but it still wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to either of you.

"Well, I should go," he said, still looking at the floor, racking his brain for something else to say to keep him near you, but he knew it would just cause him more pain in the long run.

You nodded and he finally looked up at you, holding your gaze for a moment before he forced himself to move. He only took a couple steps before you spoke.

"Fried chicken?"

He stopped and turned around in surprise before slowly nodding his head.

"Nothin' like it," he said. You furrowed your brow as if deep in thought.

"Maybe I'll come see what all the fuss is about," you told him. You knew you were sending him mixed signals, you knew it wasn't right, but you missed him. You missed the way he made you feel. Safe.

He let a slow smile spread across his face before he shrugged and pursed his lips.

"You won't regret it," he said with a wink that made your heart flutter.

Before you could think of anything to say, he disappeared down the row of books in search of Sarah.

It only took you the rest of the afternoon to figure out what you were going to wear and how to do your hair. And you didn't want to admit it, but it was the happiest you felt in a long time. You knew deep down that you shouldn't feed into this little crush you had, but what was the harm in having a little fun? It didn't have to mean anything. You could spend time with Joel as just friends. But every time you overthought your outfit you needed to remind yourself he is just a friend. This was not a date. The yellow dress you picked up from a second hand store that fell right above your knee was not necessarily a 'date' dress. It could pass as a casual dress. You definitely didn't choose it because you wanted to look good for him. It was hot out, and the dress kept you cooler than a T-shirt and shorts. That's all it was.

After you parked and paid for admission, you picked up a map at the entrance and scanned the fairgrounds, trying to pinpoint where you currently were in relation to the food stands. Sarah was right: the entire town seemed to be there. The place was packed as you made your way through the crowds, occasionally stopping to check out a vendor or watch someone win a prize at a game you most definitely wouldn't be any good at. When you started to smell sugar and fried food, you knew you must be close, so you began to pay closer attention to the booths, scanning for a place that advertised fried chicken.

It was easier to spot than you thought. The line really was a mile long. And the food smelled delicious. You slowed down so you could scan the crowd, trying to find them when you heard your name from behind. You turned with a smile to see Joel and Sarah already seated at a picnic table with half eaten food in front of them and Sarah waving you down. As you approached their table, Joel slid a plate of untouched chicken towards the empty spot next to him, hiding a smile behind his food as his eyes lingered a moment too long on your dress.

"How'd you know I would show up?" you asked him with a grin as you sat down, your mouth watering as you inhaled the delicious aroma.

"Lucky guess," he said as he bit into a chicken leg. You picked up a piece and took a bite, Sarah watching you for your reaction with bated breath. You moaned and nodded to her, still chewing, but giving her a thumbs up. She was right once again.

"Told ya," she said with a grin.

"Do you guys come here every year?" you asked, covering your mouth as you spoke while you chewed. She nodded and swallowed.

"Every year since as far back as I can remember," she said. "It's like a tradition. We always come for the chicken and Dad always wins me a fish."

"A fish? Like a real fish?"

"Yep. I have a small aquarium at home. I have one fish that's been alive for like, five years, I think. Right, Dad?"

"Somethin' like that," he said with a nod, dropping his gaze to his plate.

"Wow," you replied. "That's pretty impressive for a carnival fish."

"I know. Dad says I have the magic touch. That maybe I should be a vet, or a zookeeper, or a marine biologist."

"You would be awesome at any of those things," you said with a smile. Joel's eyes flicked back and forth between you as you spoke, the warmth in his chest blooming at the way Sarah looked at you.

"Thanks. I've always loved animals, I think I would like to do something like that when I grow up. What did you want to be when you were little?"

"Me?" you asked, taken aback by the question. "You know, I barely even remember. I think for a while I wanted to be a teacher. Then I got older and... I don't know. I worked odd jobs here or there, then I didn't work for a while, and now I'm here."

"Did you work as a waitress before?" she asked. Joel stayed suspiciously quiet while you spoke, pretending to focus on his food but in reality was hanging on your every word, eager to learn more.

"A long time ago, yeah," you said after swallowing a bite of chicken.

"Do you like it at Uncle Tommy's?"

"Sarah, give her a second to eat, will ya?" Joel finally interjected, giving her a look. You laughed and waved him off.

"It's okay. Yes, I really like it at the diner. Everyone's really nice there. Your uncle is a really good boss."

"Is my dad your favorite customer?" she asked with a playful smirk, and Joel groaned into his palm next to you.

"I mean, obviously," you replied, rolling your eyes and making her giggle.

Fortunately, a marching band was making their way down the main drag of the fairgrounds, drowning out any remaining questions Sarah might have had. Grateful for the break, you ate as much as you could before pushing the rest to Joel, insisting you couldn't finish it. He gave you a fake disappointed look before he finished off the rest of your food, and you giggled as he pretended to scold you while Sarah smiled, watching the two of you quietly.

After you were done, the three of you walked the fairgrounds for a bit, heading towards the rides. Sarah spotted a group of friends from soccer and begged Joel to let her go hang out with them. He nodded, but only after he scanned the group and made sure he recognized the girls.

"She's gettin' to be that age where she ditches me for all her friends," he said as he watched her run off with a couple twenties from his wallet.

"That's gotta be tough," you said sympathetically, your eyes drifting over the different rides as you walked past.

"Not so much today," he replied, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye and watching your cheeks flush.

"Joel..." you said quietly. You needed to remind the both of you where you stood. Now that you were alone, it felt too much like a date, and you felt yourself slipping into that grey territory again.

"I know, I know. Just friends, right?" he said, as if reading your mind.

"Yeah," you said softly, looking down at the ground, unable to look him in the eye. You wanted to be so much more than just friends but you just couldn't let yourself be honest with him.

"It's okay, you know," he said, finally drawing your gaze back to him. "I can be okay with being just friends."

"Really?" you asked, but you felt your stomach twist and the little voice in your head was screaming at you for being such a fucking idiot.

"Yeah, really," he said with a chuckle. "If you don't feel the same way, it's fine. I understand."

"That's not-" you began with a shake of your head. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" he asked instantly. You paused, not sure how much to tell him. He must have picked up on your hesitancy because he quickly retracted his question.

"Sorry. You don't gotta - just forget it."

"I really like spending time with you. I just have some stuff I need to work through on my own," you finally admitted, not wanting to elaborate further but you felt compelled to give him something.

"Y'know, friends would tell each other what kind of stuff they're strugglin' with," he said with a teasing tone, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinning.

"Is that so?" you replied, and he nodded.

"Oh yeah. All my buddies spill their guts to me whenever they're dealin' with somethin'," he said, pursing his lips to try to keep up the serious facade.

"And what kind of stuff do your friends tell you, Sheriff?" you asked, still smiling as you glanced over at him walking by your side.

"Oh, the usual. Boss is bein' too hard on 'em, car's givin' 'em trouble... girl they like won't call," he said, watching you giggle at the last one.

"What advice do you give them?" you pressed, and he finally grinned.

"Find a new job and take the car in to Connor's," he said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious.

"And what about the last one?" you asked slowly, biting your lip and keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead. You knew you shouldn't encourage him, but you couldn't help yourself.

"That one's tougher," he said with a dramatic sigh. "But I would tell 'em not to give up. And if they have an adorable daughter, I would tell 'em to bring her around to help play matchmaker."

You giggled and he smiled, pleased every time he could make you laugh. He had to resist the urge to reach out and hold your hand. He missed talking with you like this too much to risk ruining it again, and if this was all you were willing to offer him, he would take it.

As you walked by a carnival game, Joel chuckled under his breath at the men trying and failing to impress their girlfriends by shooting poorly at the moving targets with fake guns. One of them heard his laugh and twisted around.

"You think you can do any better, Sheriff?" one balding man asked with a smirk.

"I should hope so, Kenny," Joel said, stopping and shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, then?" another man said with a grin. A couple people walking past overheard the conversation and stopped to watch.

Joel shrugged and turned back to you.

"D'you mind?"

"Not at all," you said, waving him forward. You stood back with your arms crossed and watched as Joel tossed a five dollar bill on the table and took a seat on an empty stool. He picked up the toy gun and twisted it around in his hand, testing the weight and the sight before readjusting himself, spreading his legs wide and straightening his back. Your mouth went dry as you watched him lean forward and take aim before slowly letting a breath pass through his lips, gently squeezing the trigger and hitting the moving target right in the center.

A chorus of groans and jeers from the other men drowned out the low sound you made before you took a deep breath and watched him take aim once again. Your gaze was too focused on him and the way he handled himself with such ease and confidence to notice that the crowd behind you grew bigger, some were even recording it on their phones.

When Joel repeated the same action, deftly squeezing the trigger and once again hitting his mark, you felt a pull below your waist that completely distracted you from the loud cheers.

Three more times you watched Joel take aim and hit a bullseye without even breaking a sweat. Your pulse was racing and your knees felt weak by the time he stood up with a bashful smile and took a bow for the crowd. His gaze landed on yours and his smile faltered when he saw the look in your eye, but his attention was immediately stolen by the teenager running the game.

"Here you go, man," he said, handing over a stuffed penguin half your size.

"Christ, Joel, way to make us look bad," Kenny teased good-naturedly with a playful punch to his shoulder. Joel grinned and shrugged, his cheeks dusted with the slightest bit of pink.

"Better hit the range, then, boys," he said, turning away from them and heading over towards you, his gaze darkening as he approached.

"Here you go, buddy," he said with half a smirk as he handed you the prize. You cleared your throat, trying to rid your mind of the lust driven thoughts that took over your brain for the past five minutes.

"Don't you want to give it to Sarah?" you asked, hesitantly accepting it.

"Givin' it to you," was all he said, then jutted his chin, urging you to start walking.

"Thank you," you said breathlessly, looking down at the stuffed animal as you let him lead you away.

You walked side by side, a few people stopping to pat Joel on the shoulder and glance at you curiously before you managed to melt back into the crowd.

"That was something else," you finally said, breaking the silence.

"I'm an assassin in my spare time," he joked, and you giggled, the heat rising to your cheeks almost immediately. God, you were so fucked.

You went to the restroom to try to collect yourself, reminding yourself quietly over and over in the mirror he's just a friend, he's just a friend, stop it.

When you came out, your eyes scanned around until you spotted him with a funnel cake sitting at a picnic table with your penguin sitting in the seat next to him, his eyes cast down on the phone in his hand. Fuck, even just sitting there scrolling on his phone, he was too damn good looking. You slid across from him and squeezed your thighs together under the table, looking for some relief and hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Hey," he said with a warm smile, then tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Sorry. Just checkin' in with Sarah." He reached forward, ripping off a piece of the funnel cake and popping it in his mouth, then pushed the plate towards you, encouraging you to help yourself.

"How's she doing?" you asked. You took a bite and then closed your eyes, moaning a little when the sugar hit your tongue. When he didn't respond right away, you opened your eyes and paused your chewing. His eyes raked over your face slowly, his heated stare burning you from the inside out. You swallowed your food roughly and cleared your throat. Just friends.

"She's good," he finally said softly, still giving you that look that made your heart skip a beat and your insides feel like jelly. You nodded, your head spinning, trying to think of a way to break this sudden tension when he reached out a hand, his fingers pinching your chin and his thumb swiping over your lower lip, collecting some powered sugar that gathered there. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his touch on your lips. When your eyes reopened, you held your breath as he pulled his hand back and sucked the pad of his thumb into his mouth, his plush lips wrapping enticingly around his finger, refusing to break eye contact.

You could barely breathe. You needed to say something before you lost all control, but unfortunately, he spoke first.

"You're makin' it real hard to be your friend when you make noises like that, sweetheart," he said lowly. You felt the slick between your legs as you pressed your thighs together even tighter.

"You're not exactly making it easy, either, you know," you said, matching his tone. You could see the playful glint in his eye as the corner of his mouth tugged into half a smile.

"Yeah? How's that?"

"Showing off those shooting skills in front of the whole town like it was nothing," you told him, the words tumbling out before you had a chance to think. He leaned across the picnic table and licked his bottom lip.

"You liked that?" he asked, his gaze flicking between your eyes and mouth. You leaned forward as well, getting caught in his magnetic pull.

"Mhmm," was all you managed to get out as you felt yourself falling under his spell.

"Why?"

"Hm?" you asked, looking up and dragging your eyes off his little exposed patch of chest, your mind growing hazy.

"Why did'ya like it?" he clarified. His voice sounded strained and his jaw looked tense as he continued to stare you down across the picnic table. You grinned and sat back, trying to put a little distance between you, hoping it would cause one or both of you to snap out of it, but it didn't work.

"The answer to that question isn't exactly a friendly one," you finally told him, biting your lip to hold back your giggle when you saw his pained reaction. What were you doing? This was so wrong, but you couldn't stop.

"Tell me, I wanna hear it," he whispered desperately, his eyes dark pools of lust as he waited for you to speak.

You knew if you said what you wanted to say, there would be no going back. It would go a step beyond innocent flirting and it could lead you both somewhere you knew you shouldn't go. But you were weak, after all. So you said it, anyway.

"It made me think about what else those hands could do."

It was a good thing you weren't leaning forward any longer because the look in his eye made you believe if you were within reaching distance, he would have had you bent over the picnic table already, dress hiked up around your waist for the whole town to see.

"Fuck," he rasped, finally breaking eye contact so he could rub his face roughly with his palms. Suddenly he dropped his hands back down on the table, his eyes ablaze.

"Come home with me and I'll show you," he begged. Your arousal was becoming far too evident, to the point where you worried you would leave a mark on your dress. You wanted nothing more than to go home with him, but it wouldn't be right. You weren't being honest. He deserved to know the truth before he got mixed up with all your shit.

"That's not very friend-"

"Fuck being friends, I want you," he said, practically out of breath while his hand gripped the side of the table so tightly you thought the wood would crack. "And you want me, too. So what the hell are we doin' here?"

"I-" you stammered, immediately regretting letting this get so far out of hand. You weren't ready to tell him the truth. You knew if you did, it would ruin everything.

"What am I sayin'? I'm movin' way too fast," he said, his tone softening as he misread your hesitancy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you. We can go slow, okay?"

And because you were so weak, you nodded.

"Slow. Okay."

He leaned back and the look of relief on his face instantly filled you with guilt. If you were going to do this - if you were going to really try to do this with him - you needed to tell him the truth. Sooner rather than later.

He insisted on walking you to your car, his hand finding yours at your side while he carried the stuffed animal with his other hand. The parking lot was dark and quiet the further you got away from the fairgrounds. He was telling you something about being safe at night but all you could hear in your head was tell him! tell him!

When you got to your car, he put the penguin in the front seat and jokingly secured the seatbelt around it, making you smile nervously. You couldn't let this go any further.

But when he rounded the car to say good night and looked at you with those soft, beautiful eyes, you felt the voice in your head grow more distant.

He reached up to cup your face with both hands and looked you in the eye for just a moment before bending down and brushing his lips against yours. It was so soft and sweet and gentle and unlike anything you've ever felt that you just melted into his touch, your shaky hands coming up to his chest. He tasted like sugar and he smelled like heaven and you couldn't get enough, so you deepened the kiss, your tongue tentatively exploring his mouth as he walked you backwards a few steps so you were pushed up against your car. His hands fell from your face to your hips, squeezing them gently with his fingers and pulling you ever so slightly forward so you could feel what you were doing to him. You gasped at the hardness caged within his jeans, and he took the opportunity to venture down your jaw, his lips gently nipping while he went as you instinctually tipped your head back, the sensation far too intoxicating.

"So beautiful," he murmured into your neck. "Gonna take real good care of you one day. Gonna make you forget about every other man who's ever had you, you hear me?"

Your eyes snapped open, reality finally sinking in.

"Joel, wait," you whispered, and reluctantly he pulled back, but he kept his hands firmly on your hips.

"What's wrong?" he asked, lips parted and slightly out of breath from excitement.

"I need to tell you something."

His grip loosened on your hips but he still held them there as he began to grow concerned by the serious look on your face.

"Okay," he said slowly.

You took a shaky breath in, knowing it was now or never.

"I'm married."

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77 @nandan11 @anoverwhelmingdin @fandomscollide @survivingandenduring @honeyedmiller @pedropascalsbbg @southernbe @pedrosfanny @gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts @missladym1981 @spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85 @maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox @gobaaby-blog-blog @stevie75 @mxtokko @sleepylunarwolf