#uh food makes me nauseous

[decadentdeviation]

All the glowing peace and purpose I was feeling a couple weeks ago has been replaced with a constant urge to vomit.

[slumbering-shadows]

I keep discovering all these awesome recipes that sound so cool and delicious but I am limited by a lack of cooking knowledge, a slim grocery budget and a stove that makes me ill and I think that's incredibly homophobic of the universe. Let me make chicken feta spinach burgers and potato salad. I am tired of microwaved food.

[chuluoyi]

first ultrasound with gojo (love entries) headcanons?❤️

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 12:55 P.M 」

*sigh* why am i so weak to domestic requests... this is just a little thing i wrote in one sitting while stalling my nanami fic (and after coming back from the company retreat!) sobs, i'm going back to it i promise!! :')) this loosely takes place after daddy-to-be <3

a part of gojo's love entries

“now let us see…”

you were lying on the examination table as the ultrasound gel made contact with your still flat abdomen. the sheer coldness and the way the probe pressed hard on your skin made you wince a bit, until that discomfort was eased by a comforting squeeze of your hand, prompting you to turn your head towards the source.

your husband, gojo satoru, offered you a smile so warm it made everything else fade into the background. beyond his sunglasses was the way he always fondly looked at you, as if he was silently assuring you that he would be by your side every step of this journey.

you couldn't help but smile back at him.

“ah, here’s the baby,” your doctor gestured at the monochrome screen with a grin. “around five weeks now. it’s the size of a seed.”

a seed? your gaze fixed on the screen with a sense of wonder. honestly you couldn’t really pinpoint where your baby was, until you saw one dot that the doctor zoomed in.

and there it was—the tiny beginning of life. the product of you and your husband’s love, growing steadily inside you.

suddenly it felt so real that you were carrying a new life. your heart overflowed with warmth, swelling with emotion, and you struggled to hold back tears as your gaze shifted between the screen and satoru, who offered you a comforting pat on the head.

“hush,” he whispered softly, seemingly moved too after looking at the living testament of his baby on the screen. “don’t cry now, hmm?”

after seeing the sonogram and had it printed, both of you sat before the doctor as she instructed you to take things easy from now on, and through it all, satoru held your hand firmly in his, attentively listening to everything the doctor mentioned and even proactively asking questions in return.

“doc, she gets dizzy and nauseous easily, can you prescribe her something to make it bearable?”

“i can certainly prescribe some anti-sickness medication, but i highly recommend you to have plenty of rests and eat healthy food too to reduce morning sickness—”

“hmm, and can you recommend anything to improve sleep? she can have trouble sleeping too…”

honestly it touched you to see satoru picked up on these little things about you despite being away so often. only now did you realize that he had always been watching over you, without fail.

back at home, he sat you down on your bed, back to being a carefree clown who would draw laughs out of you.

“now, little mom,” he began, his lips already turning up into a grin as he took your hands in his, kneeling before you. “you need to listen to me very closely, okay?”

you snorted. “don't address me like that!”

“uh-oh, no squirming,” satoru warned playfully, pinching your cheeks, and you swatted his hand, holding back giggles.

oh my. just what a blissfully happy couple you were.

“first thing first, now you are to have lots of breaks and rest,” he declared, amusement melted a bit from his tone. “the doctor said so. it'll help with your nausea too. if you feel the slightest bit unwell, you have to go back and rest.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, yeah...”

“and no staying up late too,” he added, fixing his clear eyes on yours. “especially not for waiting for me to be home.”

that got you to clamp up. so he noticed it too, the way you would always wait for him, even at the cost of not sleeping at all. satoru never really said anything all this time, but now you knew, he was indeed worried.

once again, your chest burst with love and warmth. but still...

“can you promise me that?” satoru asked you gently, his smile still in place, but you knew the underlying command behind those words. “i'm coming back. always. i have everything i want here, with you. there's no way i'm not coming back.”

you hung onto his every word, and much like spellbound, you let go of everything and nodded.

“and now baby...”

he then shifted his focus to your tummy, gently brushing his fingers across it, and the gesture stirred something inside you, making you throb with emotion.

“you only have one job. grow big and healthy, and you can even bother mama sometimes! just don't make her too sick or i'll worry...”

somehow your vision blurred with tears, hearing how unusually earnest he was. “satoru, you're so silly.”

but as always, he would pick this moment to flip the switch, reverting back to his usual teasing.

“hmm, what's that? you're getting soft now, aren't you, mommy~?”

“...why do you have to sound like that? you're making it lewd on purpose!”

in this little world of love of yours, it was just you and him, along with the tales of your life together. you had weathered various moments side by side, and now, as you were embarking on another significant chapter with him, you were certain that everything would be alright.

satoru pulled you to the bed and smothered your head with kisses, trapping you between his strong arms. “hmm, comfy now?”

“mmm, yeah. keep cuddling me...”

and from his side, he was sure, that right now, everything had never been and felt so right than ever before—with the love of his life and future in his arms.

[planetpedri]

Feel something — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pau knew he shouldn’t like you. You were his best friends sister. Off limits. So why couldn’t he get you out of his head? When it almost came out, not only did you seem to feel the same.. you also rejected him.

Word count: 1.14k

Disclaimer/s: This is going to be a part two and I will link it here when it comes out. Very important to note! Angst.

A/N: thank u enny pooh for coming up w this!

The quiet atmosphere of your living room only lasted until six in the afternoon, when you brother came home from practice or whatever he did that day, and usually accompanied by Pau.

So at five thirty, you chose to finish cleaning and decide on dinner. Since today was Friday, you ordered takeout as that was a routine you and Héctor had grown accustomed to since you both moved into the city together. After much contemplation, you choose pizza and breadsticks. Simple and easy, no going wrong.

While waiting for the food to arrive, you turn the TV on and click on the show you’d been watching recently.

The front door unlocking snapped your attention away, a smiling gracing your lips at the sight of your brother, then to Pau, who was closing the door behind him.

The take out order was in Héctor’s arms, “the guy arrived at the same time as us.” He explains, walking behind the couch to swat at your head like he did every time he came home.

Groaning, you duck and cover your head. “Nice to see you too.” You grumble, twisting around on the couch and climbing over it to reach the kitchen quicker.

Sliding onto one of the stools, you glance Pau’s ways with a grin. “Another slumber party? Seriously? Do your parents not miss you sometimes?”

Rolling his eyes at your teasing tone, Pau slides onto the stool beside you. Both of you watch as Héctor starts to open the pizza and grab plates. “They miss me plenty.”

“Can you guys shut up and eat.” Héctor quips, sliding two plates across the counter for each of you. “What movie did you want to watch?”

Halfway through taking a bite of the pizza, you pull it away. Licking the pizza sauce off your lips, you think for a minute. “Uh, not sure. You choose.”

“I don’t want to choose.” Your brother groans, “I chose last time.”

“Well I chose twice in a row before, so this is us getting equal—“

“Why don’t you just rock, paper, scissors, and figure it out.” Pau interrupts, only to be met either two glares being shot his way. He throws his hands up in defense, “I was just trying to help!”

The innocent look on his face makes you grin slightly, “okay! Why don’t you choose, Pau.”

The boy laughs, “yeah, no. Hard pass.”

“Why do we even have these movie nights if we never know what to watch?” Héctor chimes in, taking a bite of his pizza.

Swallowing your own bite, you huff. “You started this tradition, this is your own fault.”

Half an hour later, you’d all agreed on watching a show, ‘Money Heist’ which Héctor had vehemently argued that it was boring. Which he still seemed to believe as he’d fallen asleep not even twenty minutes into the second episode.

Now it was just you and Pau, alone, sitting on either ends of the sofa. You hated being alone with him, it left you nervous and jittery. Like you didn’t know how to act.

Mindlessly grabbing for more popcorn, the bowl in the middle cushion for easy access for both you and Pau, you feel a hand, his hand, graze yours.

Jerking it back, you send him an uneasy smile. Fingers tingling at the slight touch. “Sorry.” You whisper, waiting for him to grab his own handful. Even though, now you didn’t feel very hungry.

“It’s okay, you first.” He insists, motioning toward the bowl. When you shake your head, his eyebrows knit together. “Okay…” He says slowly, taking a handful of the popcorn.

When you don’t reach for yours, he examines your expression. “Are you okay? You look a little… nauseous.”

“Fine! I’m fine! Just fine.” You were too quick to speak, face flushing. “Not very hungry anyways.”

Pau nods hesitantly, plopping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. But his mind stays on you, your weird behavior, your jerky move after you touched. He could be thinking too much into it, but maybe you did like him back. Maybe. He shouldn’t even be pondering this, you were his best friend’s sister. There’s an unspoken rule, siblings were off limits.

But he had to try, Héctor was more understanding than most.

He says your name softly, gaining your attention. Your head snaps toward him, “what?” You ask. He’d spoken so quietly, you weren’t even sure he said it.

“How was school?” He chickened out. He completely chickened out! Internally groaning to himself, he takes a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth to distract himself.

A small chuckle escapes past your lips, “since when do you care about school, let alone how it’s going for me?” Pausing the TV, you glance at him curiously.

Pau’s eyebrows scrunch together, “what do you mean? I’ve always cared, when it came to you that is. Couldn’t care less about the school part.” Was he being obvious? Was that too obvious?

“Oh!” Is all you could get out. He cared, when it came to you. Which could mean nothing, I mean, seriously. There was no way he felt that way toward you. He was Héctor’s friend and sure, you liked him, but you didn’t expect anything from it.

“Sorry, was that too much?” He asks through a shy huff of breath. His eyes darting toward his hands in his lap, now empty of the popcorn now.

“No!” You say quickly, “no, it’s fine. Uhm, school’s going alright. It’s just boring and uneventful.”

Pau nods in understanding, “usually is. Seeing anyone?” He was trying to be subtle, but you caught on. Your lips twitching in an attempt to suppress a grin.

“Nope! You?”

“Nope.” There’s a beat, a bit of silence till Pau speaks again, “good, good.”

“Good?” You laugh, “what’s that supposed to mean?” Oh, but you knew. Your fingers picking at the fuzz on your blanket. You’d thought about this for years. This exact moment, but now you realize it shouldn’t be happening. You couldn’t feel these things, no matter how much you wanted to.

Your eyes flicker to Héctor who was fast asleep on the lounge chair a few feet away.

“Never mind, don’t answer that.” You clear your throat, “I should get to bed.”

Pau’s mouth falls agape, “already?” He was utterly and completely confused. You’d changed your mind that quickly, and he had no idea why.

Standing up and tossing your blanket over your shoulder, you can’t bring yourself to look at the boy. “Héctor is my brother, and you are his best friend. And it’s wrong. Very wrong. So. Good night, Pau.”

Leaving him confused and upset, you make your hasty retreat back toward your bedroom. But still, you couldn’t figure out if you’d just done the both of you a favor, or ruined something that could’ve been really, really good.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[sparrowritings]

seven days to confess

pairing: geto suguru x gn!reader

summary: shoko and satoru give suguru an ultimatum to confess to you by the end of the week

tags: jealousy, not actually unrequited love

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i know this is a suguru x reader but there’s lowk more satoru and shoko x reader LMAO

Shoko has had enough. Enough of the needless pining that she somehow always finds herself in the middle of. 

She was the first to notice, before Satoru even suspected a thing. Lingering gazes and touch, Suguru is always a gentleman around you, opening doors, bringing you food when you are busy with missions all day, and giving you shoulder massages whenever you are stressed from writing reports. He didn’t treat Shoko or Satoru like that, so for Shoko, it was obvious that you were special to him.

When she brought it up to Satoru, he only made the case more damning. 

Shoko and Satoru sat under a tree, avoiding the harsh afternoon sun. A few dozen yards away, you and Suguru were sparring, curses clashing with the multiple light-constructed weapons you had summoned with your cursed technique.

“Satoru, do you know if Suguru like, has a thing for (Y/N)?”

“A thing? He hasn’t told me anything if he does.”

“Really? I feel like Suguru’s so lovesick I feel nauseous just watching them when they’re together.” 

The two of you had stopped sparring, and instead, you were playing with Rainbow Dragon, as if it was a big dog. You created a large ball of light and tossed it into the air, and Rainbow Dragon launched itself off the ground, fetching the ball in its maw and returning it to you, dropping the ball at your feet. You pet the curse’s head, and it bounds around you, playfully nudging you and licking your face.

“Ew. I’ve never seen Rainbow Dragon do that in all the three years that I’ve known it.” Satoru pointed out, placing his hand on his chin as if pondering deeply.

“Speaking of which, I ran into Suguru yesterday in the common room at ass o’clock making ramen. I asked if he was making a midnight snack, and he told me he was making it for (Y/N) because they were hungry.” He recounted, “He’s never made anything for me, no matter what I say and no matter how many puppy dog eyes I throw at him.”

“We should ask him about it later.” Shoko spoke, amused.

Satoru shrugs, still watching you play fetch with Rainbow Dragon.

“Sure, it’ll be fun.” He replies.

The chance comes when the four of you are hanging out in Suguru’s room, a week from winter break. A cheesy romcom plays on the portable DVD player set on the table. You and Suguru are sitting on the bed, while Satoru is sitting against the bed on the floor, and Shoko is plopped down on the bean bag next to him. 

Halfway into the movie, Shoko nudges Satoru. He clears his voice.

“Uh, (Y/N), I left one of my mission reports in your room after we were working on reports the other day, do you mind grabbing them for me?”

“Your mission report? The last time we worked on reports was weeks ago.”

“U-Uh yeah, I-I was, uh, looking through my reports… and I realized I was missing one.”

“Huh.” You raised an eyebrow in suspicion and confusion, before getting up to look for Satoru’s mission report, “I’ll be right back.” 

The door closes with a click after you leave the room.

“What was that about?” Suguru questions, suspicious.

“Sooooo, Suguru,” Satoru starts with a mischievous grin on his face, “Christmas is coming up.”

“Right, like it does every other year.” He answers cautiously. 

“What Satoru is trying to say, is that you should ask (Y/N) to go out because we are sick and tired of your pining.” Shoko continues.

“What? Where did you guys get that idea from?” Suguru deflects.

“We have eyes, Suguru. You guys make heart eyes at each other every time you are within a ten foot radius. You should just ask them out and spare all of our suffering.”

“Okay…? But I’m pretty sure they don’t like me like that. We’re just really good friends.”

“The only person you’re convincing is yourself, Suguru.” 

The room is plunged into a tense silence.

“Fine. I admit it. I like (Y/N) as more than just friends, but there is no way they feel the same way.” 

“So you’re not going to tell them?” Satoru asks.

“No way, especially not now.”

“Fine then, I’ll just tell them for you since you don’t have the balls to.” Shoko deadpans.

“No.” Suguru answers immediately.

“I propose a deal.” Shoko says, smirking.

“I don’t like the sound of that but go on.”

“You tell (Y/N) that you like them within the next seven days, I won’t tell them anything. But if you don’t, Satoru or I will help you, and we’ll make it very embarrassing for you.” Shoko states.

“Doesn’t really seem like I have a choice in the matter.”

“Nope! So what do you say?” Satoru says with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Seen as I don’t have a choice, I’ll have to agree.” Suguru says.

“Great! Then we wish you to best of luck for the upcoming week.” Satoru says as he slaps Suguru in the back.

You return the same moment, pushing the door open.

“Satoru I couldn’t find your mission report.”

“Now that I think about it, I think I didn’t leave it in your room.” You frown, giving him a confused look.

“Okay,” You drag out the word, not fully believing the white haired man, “Let me know when you find it.” Satoru shoots you a double thumbs up.

Of course, Shoko and Satoru did not intend to let the week pass by easily. 

“Here’s the plan,” Shoko says, pointing at a crudely drawn diagram on the whiteboard next to her. They were hidden away in the morgue, far away from wherever Suguru and you were. She points to the stick figure which represented you.

“First, we have to take (Y/N) out on ‘dates’. They can’t be too forward, so that (Y/N) doesn’t suspect anything, but they also have to be believable enough that Suguru gets jealous.” Satoru nods in agreement. Shoko then points to a stick figure drawn with a singular bang over its forehead. 

“Then, we make sure Suguru knows about these ‘dates’. He gets jealous, then BOOM-” Shoko points to two stick figures holding hands, “we get them together.”

“Alright, sounds good to me,” Satoru says, grinning.

On Monday, Satoru asks you to grab dessert with him. You say yes since it was a regular occurrence, but normally Suguru would also tag along. When you met up with him and Suguru was nowhere to be seen, you were surprised.

“Is Suguru not coming?”

“He said he had to work on a mission report so he won’t be coming.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then.” 

The two of you visit a desert place in the nearest town.

“Same old?” The owner of the store asks.

“Yes please!” Satoru answers enthusiastically. You take a seat at one of the booths near the window. The owner arrives at your table, placing down a slice of strawberry cake for Satoru and sakura mochi for you. You dig in immediately, and Satoru sneakily takes a photo of you enjoying your favourite dessert.

“We should take a photo.” 

“Sure? What for?”

“To send to the group to show the other two what they’re missing out on.” You shuffle to the other side of the booth, and Satoru wraps a hand around your shoulder. Satoru had always been surprisingly physically affectionate with friends, so you thought nothing of it. 

He takes the photo with his free hand, and as he snaps a few consecutive photos, he smears some of the leftover cream from his strawberry cake onto your face. You retaliate immediately, getting some of the cream from the plate and flicking it at him. Satoru continued taking photos, but at that point, both of you were laughing so hard that you could barely sit up straight.

Satoru sends the photos into the group chat once you agree on a truce to stop assaulting each other with cream. It is a series of ten photos. The first few were normal selfies, you and Satoru smiling at the camera. Then the photos devolved into blurry messes of cream and smiles, as they captured the food fight frame by frame, first showing how Satoru started the fight, then how you got back at him.

They were cute photos, you had to admit. You responded to the photos with a growing heart emoji and “:P”, before making your way back onto campus with Satoru.

On Tuesday, Shoko invites you to self-care night. You knew that Shoko often had self-care nights with Satoru. You were invited sometimes, but oftentimes you chose to hang out with Suguru and they stopped inviting you after you turned them down a few times. 

Suguru was still out with Satoru on a mission, so you had taken Shoko up on her offer.

Shoko had set her room up for peak comfort. She had her DVD player on her table along with a collection of different DVDs to pick from. The rest of the table space was taken up with a variety of skincare products to choose from. She put a movie on in the background, and she began guiding you through her ten-step skincare routine.

You followed her instructions and put a green clay mask on your face. When your face was fully covered in green, you laughed and pulled out your phone, taking a selfie with Shoko, who pouted at the camera.

As the mask was drying, you let her do your nails, coating them in a layer of baby blue nail polish. As the night came to an end, you both sheet masks on, sitting on Shoko’s fuzzy throw blanket on her bed.

“What do you think of Suguru, (Y/N)?” Shoko asks.

“What do I think of him? Well…I think he’s kind, talented, and a really hard worker. I think he’s convinced that he’s not good enough, but he’s the only person who doesn’t see how amazing he is. He’s one of the best friends I have along with you and Satoru.” 

“So what would you say if Suguru asked you out?”

“Huh?” Your mind went blank as blood rushed to your face, “Why would you say that? He doesn’t even like me like that!” 

“So you would reject him if he did ask?” You pause.

“I would say yes, but also he would never ask me out.” You answer cautiously. 

“Okay.” Shoko didn’t say anything else related to the matter for the rest of the night, and by the time you left her room, you had forgotten about the exchange.

When you were back in your own room, you received the photos that you had taken that night, sent into the group chat with the rest of your co-years.

Like the ones you had taken with Satoru, they were cute photos. You replied with a simple “<3” and turned in for the night.

On Wednesday, you were pleasantly surprised to find out that you had no missions or classes. You were also much more surprised to find out that Satoru was inviting you out to dinner, and at a very fancy restaurant at that. He had invited you to a high-end Western restaurant in Shinjuku and had said it was his treat for putting up with him for so long. You had known Satoru to pull weird stunts here and there, but this seemed like a nice gesture so you had agreed.

Wear something nice ;) 

He had texted you that morning. In the end, you chose a going-out outfit that was classy but still showed some skin. You had done your hair as well and wore your favourite makeup look for going out. When you met up with Satoru before the dinner, even he seemed surprised at how good you looked. 

“You look good, (Y/N),” Satoru wanted to add on “Suguru would lose his shit if he saw you right now,” but decided against it before the words slipped out.

You held onto him, and a moment later, you were at the entrance of the restaurant. Satoru had already arranged what foods were going to be served ahead of time, so the two of you waited patiently for the food to arrive.

The lighting of the restaurant was dim, but the candles set on the tables along with lanterns hanging from the ceiling cast a warm glow over your faces. The floor-to-ceiling windows you sat next to provide a front-row view of Shinjuku, countless billboards and signs flashing in a sea of lights. The entire mood of the restaurant was intimate, welcoming, and cozy, and it was almost romantic-

“Satoru is this a date?” You ask suddenly, the gears in your head spinning and clicking into place.

“What." Satoru replies, startled.

“Satoru, I really appreciate you doing all of this, but I have feelings for someone else-”

“I know that you like Suguru.” He blurted.

“What- did Shoko tell you? I swear when I get back she’s-” Satoru cut you off with a sigh, taking his shades off and placing them on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. There was no lying out of this one.

“Look. Shoko and I came up with a plan to get Suguru to confess to you by the end of this week. Tonight is part of that.”

“And you intend to get him to ask me out by going out with me and doing it for him?” You ask incredulously.

“No, jeez. The plan is to show Suguru that you’re going on-” He makes air quotes with both hands, “-dates with us, which would make him jealous and push him to confess to you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“You know he doesn’t like me like that right? I’ve tried telling Shoko but I don’t think she took me seriously.” 

“For the record, I don’t like you like that; I like that we’re friends, and I’d like to keep it that way. Let’s just enjoy this dinner and trust me and Shoko to work our magic. I also wasn’t kidding when I said that this was to thank you for putting up with me. I just have to treat Shoko and Suguru to something similar as well after this.” Satoru offers, holding a hand out as if offering a truce. 

You ponder for a moment, before taking his hand. 

“Deal.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly once the tension between you two diffuses. You had the best steak you have ever had in your entire existence, followed by the best tiramisu that you had ever put into your mouth. 

As you are walking out of the restaurant, you realize that Satoru is no longer beside you. Looking behind you, you realize that he was taking a photo. He jogs to catch up with you, showing you a candid photo of yourself. The photo caught you mid-turn and smiling at the camera, the dim yet warm lighting making your features slightly blurry, making the entire scene look dreamy.

“I’ll put it in the group chat so you can have it,” Satoru says as he taps away on his phone. He also sends another photo he took earlier when you were still at the table, smiling in front of a steak the size of your face. You didn’t reply with a message but reacted to the image with the double heart emoji.

On Thursday, Shoko invites everyone to her room to hang out. Currently, Satoru and Suguru are playing an intense game of Mario Kart, you and Shoko watching from the side. 

“You should let me do your eyeliner.” Shoko suddenly says, “I saw this look in this magazine the other day and I think it’ll fit you.”

“Sure,” You nod, leaning back on the bed. Shoko digs around her drawers for her makeup and sits in front of you. She cups your face with one hand, holding her liquid eyeliner to your eye with the other, resting the heel of her palm on your cheek to stabilize her hand. 

Before the eyeliner touches your skin, you hear the loud rustle of someone standing up from the bed.

It was Suguru. The game controller lay on the bed, the current round of Mario Kart forgotten.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He says, shooting Shoko an accusatory glare.

You and Shoko both freeze, looking over at Suguru.

“You, you’re guilty too.” He points at Satoru, who has also abandoned Mario Kart and is looking up at Suguru from where he is sitting on the bed.

“First, you take (Y/N) out on a dessert run without me. Then, you-” He points at Shoko, “Whisks (Y/N) to self-care night coincidentally when Satoru and I are out. Then-” He looks back at Satoru, “You take (Y/N) out to one of the fanciest restaurants in Shinjuku on a date. And now this?!” He gestures with both hands to Shoko, who was still frozen in the previous position, both hands on your face.

“I don’t know what the fuck you guys have been planning, but seen as you obviously can’t keep your hands off (Y/N), you guys obviously don’t care that I have feelings for them so maybe you guys should date them instead?” He throws both arms up in frustration before leaving the room. The door closes with a slam. The room is plunged into silence.

“I’m going to go after him.” You speak, rushing out of the room. You made a detour to your own room to put on and pick up an extra coat and scarf. You thought for a while where Suguru would be, then quickly decided to go to the lake. He told you about this spot that he frequented when he needed to clear his mind; you went once with him and agreed that it was a great spot when you wanted peace and quiet.

When you jogged out of the vicinity of campus, gentle snow began to fall, muffling all the noises around you.

 As you arrive at the clearing next to the lake, you see Suguru, who is sitting on a flat rock right next to the water, back faced to you. The lake had yet to completely freeze over, and gentle waves lapped at the shore. The soft gurgling of the water was the only thing you could hear through the snowfall, along with your heavy breathing and the crunching of the pebbles underfoot. Puffs of smoke dissipated into the air above him as he smoked a cigarette.

You know he hears you, but he makes no effort to look away from the lake. Silently, you wrap the extra coat around his shoulders, and you sit down on the rock next to him. You turn your head, tracing the sharp slopes and curves of his profile with your gaze.

Suguru took a drag of his cigarette, breathing out another breath of smoke. Still looking over the lake, he hands the cigarette to you. You take it, also taking a drag of the cigarette. This continues in silence for a few minutes, before you inhale, taking a full breath of the crisp, cold air, which burns the back of your throat.

“I…like you too, by the way. You could’ve just asked if you wanted to date.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“Since the first year. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I didn’t think you liked me like that.” You chuckled at your own blindness in hindsight.

“I didn’t want to ruin the friendship either.”

The quiet murmur of the water against the shore and your own breathing were the only sounds you could hear.

You inhaled, ready to speak, but hesitated at the last moment.

“Sorry, by the way, for last week.” You pause, “Apparently, Shoko and Satoru came up with a plan to get you jealous. I found out yesterday when I was out in Shinjuku with Satoru.”

“You what.”

“I played into it ‘cause I thought it wouldn’t affect you. I was convinced you didn’t like me like that.”

“Well, it did affect me.” Suguru finally turned to look at you, his mouth twisted into a pout.

“I know that now, that’s why I’m apologizing.”

Silence enveloped you both once again, like the soft blanket of freshly fallen snow on the treetops.

“Shoko and Satoru found out I liked you last week” It’s Suguru who breaks the silence this time, “She said something about not being able to handle all this pining and threatened to tell you if I didn’t confess by the end of the week.”

“Sounds like a Shoko thing to say.” You giggle, “Well? We’re not at the end of the week yet.”

Suguru takes your hands in his, his hands surprisingly warmer despite being outside longer. 

“(Y/N), I’ve liked you since we were in first year. Just didn’t want to admit it because I was scared.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be scared about ‘cause I like you too.” Suguru moves a hand to caress your cheek, and you lean into it.

“I know that now.” 

Suguru leans in and kisses you gently. You feel the butterflies flutter their delicate wings in your stomach as your heart beats against your ribcage. You part for air briefly before Suguru presses your lips together again, this time more confident and hungry, as if making up for lost time. He tangles his hand in your hair, pushing you towards him and deepening the kiss. A warm buzz filled your head as all you could think about was Suguru.

When you part once again, you are out of breath. You could see the quick puffs of condensed breath against the cold air. Suguru cups your face with both hands and pecks you on the lips again before getting up.

“We should go back before they think we’re dead.” You stand too, intertwining your fingers with his, and return to campus, hand in hand.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

How skz would react to 9th member y/n getting sick from overworking themselves?

LA Shenanigans!

Wanrning: passing out.

Pairing: Skz x 9th member

Summary: a hot day causes a lot of problems in the studio.

!not proof read!

Enjoy!😆

-🩷

*

Falling sick was never my intention.

Overworking was never my intention.

"And we are here with stray kids!" Everyone in the studio starts cheering and clapping making us smile and wave at them.

"So tell us how you guys feel about being here in LA and have you enjoyed it so far?" The interviewer asks us as a whole and Chan starts to speak.

"We feel great if I speak on everyone's half, the food really great and the weather too. Ummm I'd just like to say it's really good to be here and thank you for having us." His beaming and smiling really hard which causes a warm feeling fill the pit of my stomach.

"Yeah I'd like to say that the weather is really good aswell," Felix adds onto Chan's statement and smiles.

"That's great to hear! I actually heard that You guys are working on a new album is that true?"

Chan looks over to me and gives me and encouraging look, "you can answer this I think," he says causing me to sit up and talk into the mic,

"Uhhh where can I start? Ahahaha, we are working on a new album for stays and we would just like to hope that they will like it when it is finished and released but all I can say yeah it's in the works," I do a little clap and everyone agrees with me.

"Oh that's what I like to hear! Any new tours? Any new news? Tell us!" She says enthusiastically.

The room was becoming a little hot as I continued to listen to the conversation that was going back and forth.

I clear my throat and drink the water in the cup they had given us.

I shift in my chair trying to get comfortable. My stomach starting to churn.

What was going on with my body?

"Y/n! So a little birdie told us that you're working on a solo song! Any comments on that?" My neck snaps at the direction of the lady ripping me out of my trail of thoughts.

"Uhhh," I cringe at the nauseous feelings that had grown upon me, "yeah yeah I am..." my smile slowly fading away, "I'm excited to share- to share the new. What's is called? Oh! The new song.." I pause furrowing my eyebrows.

The boys started to look at me confused at my response. Han giving me a little nudge under the table.

"You good?" He whispers as the interviewer asks Seungmin a question.

"Yeah, just really hot," I whisper back and untie my collar.

"Drink some water you look tacky" he passes me cold water and goes back to looking at the lady.

My body goes cold us sweat starts to form on my forehead. Was I this tired? I know I had skipped a few meals and pushed my work hours a little but I had totally been fine until now.

Everyone laughs at a joke Changbin makes causing me to pay attention to the conversion again.

The feeling of vomit still lingering in the pit of my stomach.

"Uh...can we-" the room starts to spin really fast and is stop what I'm about to say.

"What's wrong?" Chan asks looking over at me.

"Can we take...a five." My eyes start feeling drowsy. My body feeling sluggish

"Y/n? What's wrong?" Felix quickly asks noticing my distress.

"Is she okay?" The interviewer asks now sounding very nervous, "she looks like she's about to pass out, is she okay?" She asks Han who's sitting next to me.

I stand up from my chair trying to make my way to the bathroom so I could wash my face atleast. Maybe to wakeup my body?

"Woah woah woah, Han hold her!" Hyunjin yelps as he realizes my body slowly fall to the ground.

“Y/n, talk to us how do you feel?” Felix who was on my other side rubs my back trying to get me to sit upright but words refuse to form.

I feel hands grab me. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" I hear Han asking while shaking my body. "Somebody get me water! Now!"

The cool feeling of water pouring down my face makes me moan as the nice sensation. "Is she okay?"

I nod and wakeup. From the little trance I was in.

I can't talk I can't move but I can hear and feel. The feeling of people's hands trying to shake me awake even more.

"I got the wet cloth!" I hear Seungmin say panicking. The stuff on our team was also getting worried trying to get to me.

"Let me carry her on the couch, guys move," Chan's hands wrap around my waist as he holds me close to his body.

"Yah! Why would She pass out? Is she sick?!" Changbin says running his hands through his hair. He was walking back and forth trying to calm down.

"I don't know! She was telling me about hot it was inside here now she's passed out," Han runs his hands through his hair.

My eyes land on Chan’s and he gives me a soft smile

“Are you with us love?” He asks, “talk to me, it’s just you and me ignore these loud boys,” he glared at them causing them to all shut up and look over.

“I-I’m okay just really tired..” im able to finally say. “I- I need water. Too hot.”

He quickly grabs the water bottle and starts to feed it to me. His hand keeping the wet cloth in place.

“Try and get some energy so we can take you to the hospital yeah?” He softly says.

“No- no…no hospitals.” I groan trying to get up.

“Hey hey hey, just lay down. Shhh. It’s okay we don’t have to go to the hospital right now.” He pushes me back down and waits for me to finish drinking the water before I hand it back to him.

“How do you feel now? Hm.”

“T-tired and hot.”

“Okay just take a short nap and I’ll carry you to the car okay?” I nod in response and close my eyes.

“Ever-body shut up she’s asleep!” Seungmin yells causing a few people to chuckle.

I hadn’t had a goodnight sleep in a long time due to the long rehearsals and long schedules. It felt good just sleeping and not doing anything and I knew my body likes it because when I woke up with an IV in my arm and Felix sitting by me. The energy run through my body making me feel like I could conquer the world.

“How are you feeling love?” He asks whispering not to disturb the other members who were apparently also asleep in my hotel room.

“I feel amazing, thank you guys for taking care of me,” I whisper back and he smiles

“Always! You’re our little Angel.”

*

[irisintheafterglow]

I Know I'll Be Living in Vain (gojo x you)

summary: you wake from a nightmare in a state of panic. he's there to ground you back in reality.

wc: 2.2k

cw/tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship with pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, beautiful), gn reader, found family with megs and satoru, nightmares, panic attack, swearing, mentions of food and eating

notes: so this is part 1 of a little series i'll be doing surrounding the shibuya incident and gojo's uh...absence for all yall anime-only people. based on the song "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" by Taylor Swift and Zayn because it just fits??? so perfectly??? anyway hope you enjoy! this is also for all you found family lovers i see you and i understand you.

likes/reblogs/feedback is always appreciated <3

He feels it viscerally in his body at the same time you do, a wall of unfathomable malice that you were never supposed to feel in the first place. It’s heart stopping, the same realization of making a mistake that ricochets your life in an unpredictable direction. Dread sinks like an anchor into his stomach and he forces down the nauseous lump gathering in his throat. He tries to train his expression into blankness, but he knows better than to deceive the King of Curses. 

“Hmm…” Sukuna’s dark eyes narrow in concentration, thoughts elsewhere instead of the sorcerer in front of him. “Someone is…reading me.” A tense beat of stillness settled between the two fighters, out of place compared to the wasteland of a city that they treaded on. Then, in a blink, both him and Sukuna are gone, racing to get to you first. He’s an eighth of a second too slow and you feel vicious claws dig into the back of your neck from your seat on the ground. Electric blue eyes meet yours, wrought with despair and suppressed rage. You always loved that the most, how his eyes always seemed to give away what he was feeling even if he didn’t say anything. Flashes of memories flicker in your mind like stop-motion film, pulling him closer in your bedroom or intertwining your fingers on a walk back to the school. Every time you looked in his eyes, you could read him; you could read his sorrow, his grief, his wrath, his joy, his love. It was different, now, from any time you’d looked at him before. 

For the first time since you’d met him, Satoru’s eyes were filled with fear. 

You blink, scared to breathe or feel the ache in your legs after being crossed for too long. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen and this meeting would cause catastrophic consequences to the plan in place. First, the non-sorcerers would break from the trance you’d put them in. They would then panic within the confines of the veil, causing the sorcerers within to divert their attention to crowd control rather than exorcizing Curses. Civilian casualties were going to increase exponentially all because you were never supposed to read Sukuna. From the look on Satoru’s face, he knew it too, and he knew it was his fault that the confrontation entered your technique’s radius in the first place. It broke your heart to see him so distraught, overwhelmed by your impending death because he wasn’t careful enough.

“This your little friend, honored one?” Sukuna’s face is a cruel sneer; he knows having you puts Satoru on the defensive. “Well?” Your head is roughly pushed forward and you cry out, face contorting in pain and frustration as Satoru’s fist opens and closes anxiously. You wordlessly pleaded with him to just attack even if you got caught in the crossfire because, as much as he was on the defensive, Sukuna was underestimating his humanity and it left him vulnerable. But ultimately, you were in the wrong–you underestimate how much Satoru needs you. 

“I didn’t think you were one to get distracted, your majesty.” You catch the slightest waver in his voice as he attempts to appear uncaring about your situation. He wasn’t succeeding. 

“Nor did I think you would stop your attacks just because another sorcerer is in your way.”

“Maybe I’m catching my breath ‘cause I didn’t hold back before.”

“Then why do you choose to now?” 

“I’m just giving you some time before we go all out again. My mother always said I had pristine manners.” In any other scenario you would have burst out laughing at the sheer inaccuracy of that statement, but all you could do was choke out a sob of disbelief. His eyes flick to you again and the muscles in his jaw clench. “Beat me first and save your,” an elegant hand waves around aimlessly in a forced show of indifference, “prize for later.” You catch his nervous swallow as his body physically rejects referring to you as an object. 

Sukuna hums in faux-thoughtfulness before his grip tightens enough to draw blood. You gasp at the warmth now dripping down the sides of your neck. “You could have beat me at any point, you know, if you didn’t stop for one measly human.” He spits the last word like it tasted disgusting on his tongue. “For one so godly, you are disappointingly just…a man.”

“Spare their life or I’ll show you just how godly I am.” There’s no more aloofness in Satoru’s body language. He’d given up his asshole-exterior to desperately negotiate for your life. The world would end because Gojo Satoru loved you too much. 

You dodge his gaze like it was a plague and silently will him to stop looking at you, lest he jeopardize both of your positions. It was too late, though. Sukuna shakes his head, patronizingly clicking his tongue in distaste. Satoru’s initial hesitation upon seeing you had given too much away. “Pathetic. The honored one should know better than to waste time on emotional attachment.” 

You feel a scorching hot sensation on the back of your head before your eyes fly open and you shoot upright in bed, hand flying to your mouth to muffle the ragged exhales from your heaving chest. It’s impossible to stop trembling and you struggle out of bed, careful not to wake its other occupant. You’re barely able to make it to the bathroom and splash your face with frigid water before the adrenaline crashes into your body in the form of a strangled cry as you recollect your nightmare. It violently wracks your body in unnatural tremors that have you holding the edge of the sink for dear life, drowning in your own worsening spiral. It wasn’t the first time you’d experienced a nightmare like this, but what frightened you the most was how realistic it felt, especially considering the rumors running around this year’s Halloween. It takes you several minutes to regain control of your body, leaving your head aching from the fluorescent lights in the bathroom. After patting dry your sweat-sticky skin, you quietly re-enter your room to find Satoru awake and waiting for you. You’re grateful to the darkness, for once, because it almost hid your swollen eyes and incessant shaking…almost. 

“Hey, I’m sorry if I woke you.” You try to keep your voice even while you slip back under the covers and his arms instinctually pull you into him. Your body continues running hot and you wiggle free from the blankets, instead searching for his natural warmth. He definitely could hear your racing heart rate but you still force feed normalcy into your words. “You can go back to sleep now. I just needed to pee. Too much water before bed, you know?” It’s quiet for a time and you sigh in relief, thinking you’d successfully fooled your excessively protective boyfriend. You’re on the edge of falling back into unconsciousness when his low voice grounds you back into reality. 

“You had a nightmare.” With eyes still shut, your breath hitches despite the relaxingly lazy circles he traces on your back. “I know you’re still awake, by the way. You breathe differently when you sleep.” You fight down the impulse to teasingly call him a creep and keep your eyes closed. Trying the silent route again, his calming touch abruptly pulls away as does the rest of his body. Groaning in frustration, you surrender and bury yourself further into his chest, muttering how you hated him and his stupid tricks. He huffs out a lighthearted chuckle, fingers returning to work on your skin as you finally look up at him. “Talk to me, beautiful.” 

“It was just a bad dream. I’m fine.” 

“You’re just as terrible of a liar as a fake-sleeper. It’s a good thing you became a sorcerer and not an actor.” He smirks when you glare up at him, eyes shining with triumph at pushing your buttons. 

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, then get out. I’ll call Suguru and Shoko to cuddle me instead.” You flip over and begin crawling out of bed again when lean limbs snake around your body, caging you against him with both his arms and his legs. He breathes an exhausted sigh against your neck that gives you goosebumps. Guess joking-Satoru had enough of your antics.

“I know the difference between when you have a bad dream and when you have a nightmare. Bad dreams don’t have you bolting up and stifling sobs in the bathroom because you think I can’t hear them. I hear them, every single time. It breaks me, you know?” Your heart pangs in sharp guilt but he only pulls you closer. “Please, baby. Talk to me.” You let him rotate your body so that your head rests on his chest and you inhale the unwaveringly strong presence of him. 

“I dreamt something went wrong during an attack on a city. I was evacuating and you were fighting Sukuna and…” Your voice cracks as you relive the dream in your mind’s eye, wincing when you remember the all-too-real look on Satoru’s face as you die. “Sukuna got to me.” His arms tighten around your body and you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the flood of bad dreams that unlocked as a result of this single nightmare. “And I really don’t fucking know, I just–”

“Do you remember that time we took Megumi to a splash pad? Tsumiki was at her first sleepover and we stole him away for the weekend.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden change in the conversation and you look at him, only to see him staring off into the ceiling. “Yeah? I mean, we stole him away for a lot of weekends. Why do you–”

“He hated that place with every fiber of his tiny body.” His eyes fondly flutter shut, pretty mouth curling into a grin. “I remember we had to bribe him with ginger chicken just to get him to stand near one of those fountains. It was for the greater good, though, since I think the universe was trying to roast us alive during that summer.”

You smile at the image of little Megs’ frown and crossed arms as he reluctantly steps closer to the brightly colored water structures, arguing the water is freezing. From your lawn chair in the shade, you remind him that the water was the whole point of bringing him there, to which he further scowled in protest. At some point, both you and Satoru ended up with soaked clothes after running around the playground to escape the unbearable heat, with Megumi finally playing too after your boyfriend slipped and fell. When you asked Satoru why he didn’t use Infinity to avoid getting wet, he shrugged and explained that it was more fun feeling shivery and cold with you. One of your favorite memories of the day came after losing to him in a slide race where he definitely cheated, when you had to stand under a bucket that tipped over once filled with water. But, a second before the bucket could tip, Megumi yanked Satoru’s arm toward you and all three of you ended up getting drenched. “Did we actually end up getting him ginger chicken? I thought we warped back to the school.”

“Mhmm, we did. I was the one who drove across the city to get it in your beat-up sedan.” The corner of his mouth quirks in lighthearted indignance.

Your jaw drops in realization and you can’t help giggling as the memories click into place. After deciding warping was a better alternative than getting your car wet, Satoru went to get your car and drove it back to Jujutsu Tech after all three of you dried off. You put on some random movie for Megs to watch in Satoru’s room and called to ask about dinner, only for him to say he already had it and was pulling into the parking lot. You three ate dinner cross legged on Satoru’s bed and ended up falling asleep there too. “Hey, that beat-up sedan got us lots of places before we started warping everywhere.” 

“Yeah, and it could probably handle every circle of Hell if you needed it to. It would need a new left blinker, though.” 

You lightly poke him in the side and he yelps. “Because you backed it into a telephone pole!” 

“That’s your fault for letting me drive in the first place, sweetheart.”

“You are a menace to society, Gojo Satoru.”

“This menace to society got your mind off that shitty nightmare.” Oh. That’s what he was doing. “Your silence tells me I’m correct.” Your continued stunned silence must be interpreted as contradiction and he’s quick to backtrack on his declaration. “Or at least in the ballpark–” 

“Shh, yes. Yes, you are correct.” You place a finger on his lips to stop his words and close your eyes against his chest, clinging to the happy memories with Satoru and Megumi to force out the intruding scenes from your nightmare. “You really amaze me, do you know that?”

“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” 

“Worship the ground I walk on, Satoru,” you state flatly but can’t help smiling through the end of it. His soft laugh vibrates against your face as you finally start to drift into sleep again, this time confident you could keep the nightmares at bay.  

“I already do.”

[cinnamonest]

a yandere would be the best and worst companion to have during an apocalypse of some sort… like on one hand, they’re trying their best to keep you safe so they’re doing all the scavenging and whatnot. but on the other hand having no way of knowing the chaos going on outside of the little room you’re trapped in isn’t the best

Forgive me for making it about specific media but the other week I went home to visit my mom and loaded up Fallout 4 for the first time in ages and so it's been on my brain… imagine your lover coming back to the little abandoned vault he keeps you locked up in, bringing you things from outside… oh, and making you nauseous for days because of the radiation he picked up roaming around. It’ll wear off, he says… but he’s also started to, uh, glow in the dark a little bit, so you’re not so sure?

It’s a perfect environment — it’s not like anyone is gonna come looking for you now, and powerful drugs to keep you sedated are readily available to the public.

Besides, he says, with no acknowledgement of how morbid his words are, even if he dies out there, there’s enough food and water to keep you alive for the rest of your natural life… he says it to comfort you, but frankly, the idea of being down here all by yourself, no sunlight, no human contact, for the next sixty years or more, is terrifying in a way that makes you think death might actually be better.

But it’s okay. He’ll be super careful and definitely won’t die, he says. He's been blessed to have this whole nuclear war thing happen, granting him the ability to keep you all for himself without any interference — no way is he going to let this good fortune go to waste.

[hypnoneghoul]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 3

WC: 2,8k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Mentions of Vomiting, Medical Quintessence, Panic Attack, Nausea, Food Repulsion, Gender Dysphoria, Very Brief Abortion Talk, Hurt/Comfort

“Does that fit what you were thinking?” “I’m…actually pregnant?”

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 3 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss all but runs to the infirmary, wanting to get there before he changes his mind.

He feels stupid for even considering it.

Hoping?

Either way, something is really wrong with him and he has to get himself checked out.

The way he stumbles into Omega’s office makes the older ghoul jump behind his desk and furrow his brows; instinctively looking for injuries on Swiss “Are you okay, what’s on fire? Or who’s on fire?”

“No, no fire–or no, fire’s in my fucking guts and it’s driving me crazy,” the multi ghoul pants, slumped against the door frame. The trip shouldn’t have tired him as much as it did, “like–you know how you’re hungover and want to puke, but–that’s just nausea, but I’m rarely nauseous and lately it’s been just, oh my lord below, you know, it’s like–”

“Swiss…”

“No, no, I know, I know I sound crazy, but–my skin feels weird, my insides feel weird and my everything is so messed up,” he continues his ramble, “and I feel like absolute shit, you know when it’s like a train ran you over? Yeah, so I usually don’t care, but now I’m losing my mind ‘cause I’m low-key scared and now–now I’m here and Mountain’s asleep ‘cause I think I left a lung in the fucking toilet so–”

“Swiss!” Omega’s raised voice finally snaps the multi ghoul out of it. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry, can you just–check me out for…everything?”

“Everything?” Omega questions. “Why won’t you just tell me what your concerns are?”

“Because even though I doubt it’s possible my brain decided to fixate on it and I don't want to make even a bigger fool out of myself, so just please, scan me over with your quintessence, or something, and just tell me what you see.”

The quintessence ghoul is currently more concerned with the other’s mental state, rather than his physical one, but he will do what Swiss is asking of him. After all he’s there to help, whatever the issue may be and however he has to discover it. Omega stands up and points at an empty gurney on the other side of his office. “Why don’t you sit down, try to relax a little.”

Swiss obeys, although it’s not so easy to just relax. He tries his best, taking a few deep breaths as Omega puts on his glasses and walks up to him.

“I’ll put one hand on your shoulder and the other one on your chest, is that okay?” Swiss nods. “Alright, then, let’s see…”

Omega’s quintessence flows into him and makes his entire body tingle as it travels through his veins and along his nerves and penetrates layer after layer of skin.

Swiss becomes uncomfortably aware of every single piece of his mortal vessel and tries to take a deep calming breath; it only makes him strangely aware of his lungs, too.

It’s the longest five seconds in the multi ghoul’s life, he thinks, as he feels the other inspect him whole, looking for–

Omega tries to stay professional and not make his internal shock external.

Surely not, it can’t be.

He grits his teeth and goes to double check.

How…?

“Oh…” he finally mutters, pulling back.

“‘Oh’ what!?”

“Do you, uh…” Swiss doesn’t like Omega’s confused and frankly scared expression at all, “do you want to see what I see?”

“Uhm, I guess…” He shrugs, chuckling nervously and trying his very fucking best to keep his composure. Omega steps forward and puts his hands on either side of Swiss’ head, fingers pressing lightly into his temples.

“Okay, let me in.” Swiss does—it’s easy; the anxiety is making his walls lower and thinner. He closes his eyes to focus on the image the quintessence ghoul is showing him. “So this is how I normally see a ghoul, the light is their energy, their essence. Not a soul, just…energy.”

It’s like a vague human-like shape in a darkness, in a void. The edges of the form are fuzzy and it’s filled with a faint colorful light, but what stands out is a blindingly bright orb of pure light in the middle of the shape’s chest.

“Okay. What’s wrong with mine?”

“Nothing. But this is how I’m seeing you now.” The image shifts and…three more lights, so much duller and smaller than the first one, show up in the area of Swiss’ lower abdomen.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Omega sighs, “does that fit what you were thinking?”

“I’m…actually pregnant?” Swiss chokes out. The words nearly get stuck in his throat, because…how can it be real? “With three kits?”

“You are,” the quintessence ghoul confirms and the ringing in Swiss’ ears gets deafening.

“H–how is that even possible?” he hears himself asking, but he can’t feel his mouth moving.

“Good question. I have no idea, I guess the best answer is that you’re a walking miracle all over and Lucifer decided to grant one more. Or rather three.”

“Can you, uhm…” his voice cracks; this is getting way too much too quickly, “can you get Mountain for me?”

“Of course. Baby daddy?”

“Yeah, I–I suppose…he’s the only one who–who gets in there,” Swiss admits, making Omega chuckle despite everything. He’s trying to stay composed, but this is a first one for him, too. He’s not as scared as the multi ghoul—obviously—but it’s…tense.

Swiss is absolutely freaking out.

“Holy–holy shit, what the fuck, oh my–oh Lucifer, what the fuck!?” he mutters under his breath. Or maybe it’s just in his head?

He doesn’t know how much time passes before they hear the door to the infirmary slam open.

“What happened? What’s wrong, my heart, are you alright?” Mountain barges in demanding answers; a strong smell of worry reaching Swiss and Omega before the earth ghoul himself does. He’s completely disheveled; it’s clear he jumped straight out of bed to come for his mate.

Swiss just stares at him, though, with glassy eyes and mouth slightly agape.

Mountain gets even more worried—it’s rare his mate is speechless. He turns to the other ghoul in the room, “Omega, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong, he’s just…a little overwhelmed,” Omega replies. Mountain gets to them and immediately takes Swiss into his arms. “Swiss, do you want to tell him yourself or do you want me to?”

The multi ghoul tries to come back to earth, get himself together to consider the question that he’s just been asked.

“I–I can, uh…” he stutters and pauses to take a big breath, “I’m–I’m…pregnant. We’re…we’re having kits, big guy.”

Mountain’s jaw drops. “Wh–this…what? Are you–you’re not joking, right? That would be really cruel, please, my heart, tell me it’s not a joke, I need–we’re gonna have kits?”

His immediate excitement changes the air in the room and gives Swiss something…something positive to cling to. Physically he is clinging to Mountain already, but he finds breathing a little easier now.

“We’re gonna have kits,” Swiss confirms. His mate’s heart is pounding and he looks between the multi ghoul and Omega with his mouth agape.

“You’re both in shock right now, and understandably so,” the quintessence ghoul says, “so I’ll let you go and just text Mountain some information. I’d like to see and talk with you both about some important things to consider as soon as you feel up to it, okay? Now off you go, I’m prescribing a good meal and long sleep for both of you.”

Swiss doesn’t really register leaving the infirmary, walking through the Abbey’s corridors and getting back to the Den. Mountain all but carries him all the way, chewing on his own lip; he’s an absolute wreck inside, but has to stay strong for Swiss right now. He’ll give himself to all the emotions later, when his mate is taken care of.

They get to the ghoul’s kitchen and the smell of food makes Swiss realize where he is. It makes another wave of nausea hit him, though, and he only takes a few sips of water Mountain poured him.

“I can’t eat now,” he mumbles, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Mountain sighs, rubbing his back as he drinks, “it’s, uh…very stressful right now.”

Swiss nods and empties the glass. He only speaks again when they’re in their bedroom.

“How do we…what about the pack? They’ll notice, how can we–we can’t not tell them.”

“Not now, darling, try not to think so much, let’s try to get some sleep.”

He’d like that—he’s exhausted—but there’s so many things flailing around in his brain; it’s impossible not to think. Swiss doesn’t even notice he starts getting hotter and breathing heavier, but Mountain does; unfortunately familiar with his mate’s panic attacks.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he grabs him with care to get his attention. “I’m scared, too, look at me, darling.”

It’s a little while before the multi ghoul can make eye contact, but once he does the fresh-grass-green of Mountain’s eyes makes him grow calmer and calmer by the second.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters before falling face first into his mate’s chest. He feels so stupid for all of this.

“No, my heart, don’t be,” the earth ghoul reassures. “I told you: I’m scared, too, but we’ll be alright.”

The embrace of Mountain’s strong arms makes Swiss’ exhaustion finally take over and he feels his eyes closing. The earth ghoul manhandles him into a cuddling position and holds him close.

A feeling akin to disgust creeps up on Swiss before he manages to fall asleep, though. It’s that strange sense of dread and wrongness he knows very well. It’s telling him this is all wrong.

Men don’t get pregnant, so it must mean he’s just—still—a girl in a pathetic disguise.

Swiss swallows against the bile rising in his throat, focuses on his mate's heartbeat under his ear and wills himself to fall asleep.

He wakes up calm. He doesn’t have the urge to throw all his guts up—at least at the moment, he doesn’t want to jinx it. He stretches a little and snuggles further into Mountain and–

Oh. It’s not morning and–

That happened.

The multi ghoul tenses up and his hands instinctively clench to grab at his mate. He’s awake and kicks up a purr in an attempt to soothe Swiss a little, “Hey, darling, it’s okay, don’t stress.”

Swiss doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath of Mountain’s fresh scent—the smell of the first days of summer. It’s okay.

“Ready to talk?” the earth ghoul asks after a while, when Swiss is fully awake again. He nods, sitting up.

“First of all, uh…I got that text from Omega when you were asleep and he said it’s not too late to…you know,” Swiss’ stomach turns a little at the unsaid part. He appreciates having the choice, but he can’t. “You don’t have to keep them.”

“I want to, I can’t get rid of them! I love them already, they’re our babies,” he admits and the earth ghoul’s chest warms up at the words. “And you got so excited!”

“I, uh…well, yes, I did,” he chuckles nervously. “I've always wanted to have kits and I want nothing more than to have them with you, but you have to be ready. You can't make this decision because of how I feel, it's your body.”

“No, I know, but…” Swiss sighs and drags a hand down his face. He’s so tired. “I want them, I really do.”

“Okay. Well, then, we’ll do our best to keep you safe and comfortable so that their growing spot is all cozy and when they’re here we will be the best parents that they could ever have. Right?”

“Right.” The multi ghoul nods and…that’s it. Their talk is done, their decision is made. Swiss gets a thought, though, “But what if–”

Mountain doesn’t let him finish, cutting him off with a smile on his face. “We’ll worry about ‘what if’s if any show up. Let’s go try to get some food in you now, alright?”

“Okay…” Swiss agrees, even smiling slightly himself. They climb out of bed and put on some presentable clothes to head down to the kitchen. Swiss really doesn’t want to see anyone, so they quickly grab something and all but run back to their room to hide again.

“Do you want to see Omega again today so all the inevitable stress is packed into one day and then you can relax when that’s done?” the earth ghoul asks once the food is gone. Swiss didn’t eat much—his appetite nonexistent the last few days—only nibbled at stuff here and there, but it’s better than nothing.

“Yeah, I think so,” he agrees, so Mountain texts the quintessence ghoul. He asks him to come down to the Den, to have the talk in the comfort of their own space, for Swiss’ sake. Omega, of course, doesn’t mind and is happy to do it like this.

The earth ghoul gets a chair by the bed for him and once settled in it, Omega begins his lecture. “Ghoul pregnancies are really short, only seven months. The kits come out tiny, but they grow rapidly for the next while and at around six months old they slow down and carry on like a one year old human baby would. It makes it more comfortable for a ghoul pregnant with a litter to carry on in the Pits, not be slowed down much and weaker.

However, this can look very differently Topside. This has never happened before and even though I know all about pregnant ghouls and kits in Hell and all about pregnant humans on Earth, I have no idea what to do with you.

What I know for sure is that you need a lot of rest, no weed, alcohol or caffeine. We’ll be meeting once a week to check on both you and your kits. Their elements will be a mystery until they’re born, but it seems like there’s a lot of water to them. I just hope for your sake they won’t take much earth or quintessence, at least not now.”

“Why?” Swiss asks with a frown. He doesn’t want to think about all the other things Omega has just said, it’s all so…scary and so much.

“Because it would be very dangerous for all parties involved if they got as big as a typical earth or quintessence kit,” he explains. The multi ghoul can feel his hand being squeezed by his mate. “At this point we have to be mentally prepared for anything. It’s a miracle and a mystery, anything can happen.”

Swiss and Mountain are quiet, waiting for even more scary information, but the quintessence ghoul stands up and walks to the door. “That’s, uh–I think that’s it. We should make a little group chat for the three of us and keep in contact at all times. Remember my emergency twenty-four seven number, too.”

Omega stops before he crosses the threshold and turns with a slight grimace. “One more thing…as I said, it’s a miracle. I would…wait a bit before announcing it, at least outside of the pack. As hard as it is for me to say, there’s a big chance they won’t live.”

The face Swiss makes at the words is easily the saddest thing both Omega and Mountain had ever seen. The latter brings his mate closer

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you two. Well, all five of you. I want to see those kits born and healthy in your arms,” Omega promises before leaving. The silence that surrounds Mountain and Swiss once the door is shut behind the quintessence ghoul is deafening.

“I asked the pack to give us a few days to process,” Mountain says to break it. “I didn’t say what, but you know them, nobody’s prying. They respect our need for space.”

Swiss nods and turns to bury his face in his mate’s neck.

“How about we go to the cabin for a few days?” the earth ghoul offers. “A nice week off just for us to think and relax, hm?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Swiss admits and even musters up a soft little smile. Mountain can’t see it but he knows exactly how a smile against his neck feels with his mate’s stubble.

“We’ll be alright, my heart,” he whispers into his ear, “all five of us, we’ll have a little family. Everything will be okay, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Swiss mumbles and shuts his eyes. His hand instinctively goes to his stomach—he’s been feeling the urge to protect it for the last few weeks, but it makes sense only now.

Mountain looks at Swiss’ hand splaying over his little bump and smiles; it’s all terribly scary, but he’s so excited and happy and proud at the same time. He puts his own hand over his mate’s and nuzzles his face into his hair.

They’ll be alright.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Touch and Go: A Detective's Romance

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Detective!Female!Reader 

Fandom: Night Hunter 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Summary: What happens when a touch-starved detective who isn’t well-versed in human interaction meets their match?  

Warnings: touch starvation, awkward conversation, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, crying during sex 

A/N: It’s apparently winter in this story, damn Minnesota weather. Honestly, I was watching the movie while writing so it ended up being snowy. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

My Masterlist 

It’s not like you never noticed your fellow officer. Of course, your attention has been pulled to Detective Walter Marshall once or twice, or several times throughout your time working together. Damn, ok the man was a presence. His very existence should have a warning label on it. 

Not that he’s a bad person. Far from it, in fact. You thought the world of him. Not that you’d admit it, but you found his grumpiness endearing. His monosyllabic responses to questions made it a bit hard to get to know him. You weren’t exactly an open book yourself. But you forced yourself to try and get to know him. 

You didn’t make it a habit to get to know people very often. You had trust issues, and rightfully so after what your ex-partner left you with. A broken heart and a fractured view of your self-worth. You hadn’t even let anyone touch you in so long. A handshake here or there, maybe a pat on the shoulder but nothing more. 

And now here you were, a touch-starved mess who had grown to be a bit more than interested in another detective. You wanted to make him smile and that was a foreign feeling to you. So, you started with an olive branch. 

Asking if he wanted a coffee on your way to the break room. After the fifth time, he relents, requesting a cup of black coffee with three sugars. While you’re there, you pick up a granola bar from the cabinet. Handing him the paper cup of coffee, you also pull the treat from your back pocket and toss it on his desk. 

He tilts his head like a giant puppy at the snack. 

“Humor me and eat something. I’m curious if you’re eating enough if I’m being honest.” You bite your bottom lip unconsciously, and the beginnings of a smile appear on his face as he rips open the bar and takes a bite. 

Chewing slowly and staring at you, he seems to look right through to your soul. You look down at your feet to break eye contact and he clears his throat, getting your attention back.  

“You know, I actually love food. I love to cook almost every night.” As the words come out of his mouth, it’s like they’re fighting their way out. As if each syllable is a punch to the gut. 

“I love food, too. But I hate cooking,” You suddenly had a very dry throat, so you sip a bit of coffee before speaking again, “I’m not inviting myself over or anything, but if you’d be up for it sometime...I, uh...yeah.” You look everywhere but him as you trail off. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I normally eat alone. Be nice to have someone...there...to eat with.” It’s like speaking makes him physically nauseous, the way his jaw tenses like that. 

“Well, I’m free most nights, so...just let me know.” You move to turn and leave his office, but he stops you with an offering. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be free tonight?” He’s even surprised by his question but plays it off by folding his hands on his desk and maintaining eye contact. 

“Yes. I’m free.” You know you sound desperate but at this point, this is the most contact you’ve had with the man since you’ve been here so who cares? Well, you do, but you can worry about that later. 

“Good. Yeah. So, uh, I guess come and grab me when you’re ready to go. You can follow me to my place. Sound good?”  

“Yeah, that sounds great. Um, I’m gonna leave so I don’t say something embarrassing. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I just—” 

Walter cuts you off, saving you from yourself. “Don’t do this a lot?” 

“No, I don’t. Been a long time and I don’t want to fuck this up, ya know? Not that playing it cool was ever my style. Why start now, right?” You surprise Walter by laughing at your self-deprecating joke and he follows suit. 

The little duck of his head doesn’t stop you from seeing the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. When he picks his head up again, a broad smile is painted on that normally glum face. If you had 1% less control over your face, you would have drooled. 

This man should smile more. 

And you know you hate being told to put on a smile but fuck, his face was made for it. You realize you’re still looking at him and a faint rose-tinted blush dusts across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

You should not be allowed to be that adorable. 

“What?” Walter’s question brings you back to where you just said that sentence out loud. 

“I think I just called you adorable. So, I’m gonna see myself out and try not to throw myself into traffic on the way to my desk. I’ll be back when I’ve calmed my brain down a bit.” You wave awkwardly and exit his office before you can notice the smile inching back over his features. 

You spend the next two and a half hours hoping you didn’t make a complete ass out of yourself in front of the only man you’ve talked to in the last few months that wasn’t a delivery driver or your boss. The only person who you’ve talked to for more than a few minutes about something other than work.  

When 5:30 p.m. comes around, you gather your things and drag your feet to Walter’s office. He’s already standing, putting away some files in his desk drawer, looking up when he hears your polite throat clearing. 

“How do you feel about Spaghetti Bolognese? I have a recipe from Jamie Oliver that I’ve been meaning to try out.” He says, putting on his parka and moving toward you where you stand in his doorway. 

“Um, pasta is life. Pasta with meat sauce? Even better.” You brighten at the mention of a familiar dish, your previous nerves all but forgotten. 

“Great. Shall I help you with your coat?” He hinted once he realized you weren’t moving toward the exit. 

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.” You set down your purse and handed over your fluffy overcoat.  

Walter holds it out for you as you back your arms into the sleeves. As it comes to rest on your shoulders comfortably, his hands smooth over the fabric that covers your forearms, your hands ending up in his for a moment. 

You freeze at the sudden contact but if Walter notices, he doesn't make a big deal out of it. He just squeezes your hand quickly and hands you your purse so you can walk out together. You are grateful to be among the stragglers leaving the office so that you don’t draw too much attention. 

Walter walks you to your car and has you put in his address to your GPS, ‘just in case you get lost’ he jests before heading to his truck. As you watch him walk away, one thought comes to your mind. 

Is this a date? 

You park behind Walter’s truck in his driveway, climb out of your car, and crunch through the snow behind him. In your clumsy state, your foot slips, and strong arms catch you so that you don’t completely bust your ass on the unforgiving ice below.  

This time when he touches your arms, you are beyond grateful to be able to pull yourself upright again. Once you’re stable, Walter keeps one of your hands in his until you make it to his front door. He lets you walk in first, turning on the light to the short hallway after you chuckle in the darkness. 

Walter takes your coat and hangs it up with his, your wet boots left by the door. Walking into the kitchen, he pulls out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Opening the wine, he pours each glass and brings them out to where you are standing in the living room. Handing you a glass, he raises his own.  

“Shall we toast to something?” Walter smiles softly, expectantly waiting for you to suggest what to salute. 

“To...being pleasantly surprised that you still wanted to cook for me despite every awkward moment I’ve had since earlier today. You are a gentleman and a scholar and I'm gonna shut my mouth and drink this wine before I just...keep talking.” You cringe inwardly before looking back up at Walter. 

He is watching you with rapt fascination, a slow smile forming. “Let’s toast to practicing human interaction. I’d say we could both use some assistance in that area. We’ll help each other, deal?”  

“Deal.” You tap your glass to his and take a sip of the now-aerated wine. Your cheeks warm at the blackberry finish of the cabernet sauvignon.  

Maybe there is something to the whole liquid courage thing. 

Dinner turned out lovely. You were pleasantly surprised that Walter could cook. There were moments watching him cook where he didn’t have to measure things, or he added a little extra of this or that. He didn’t use a recipe while making the garlic toast like it’s a staple of his repertoire or something. 

Sitting on his couch with your feet tucked up under you, you look around the living room at the lack of family photos or little touches that scream Walter Marshall. Not that you would have any idea of what those little touches would be. It just doesn’t feel like a home. It feels like a house, just a house that someone lives in. 

When he comes back to the couch with freshly poured wine, you accept your glass with a smile, and he returns it.  

“It is a Friday night. We are enjoying our second bottle of wine. You made me a delicious dinner. And I still can’t figure out if this is a date, Walter.” You fiddled with the glass in your hand, looking into it as if the answer was inside the wine. 

Walter’s thumb and forefinger on your chin have you looking up at his face. “I’ve used almost every excuse to touch you tonight. I kept talking to you earlier when you thought you’d lost me. I feed off your awkwardness because you say what’s on your mind without a filter. I’m not exactly one to speak a lot but I enjoy talking to you. Because you make me feel like I’m not alone.” 

Unshed tears gather at the corner of your eyes. You swallow the lump in your throat, clearing it loudly before you speak. “Can you tell I’m touch-starved because you are too?” 

At his quiet nod, you take his wine glass and set both of your glasses on the coffee table. You lean forward, your elbows on your knees. He watches as you have a silent moment with yourself, going over different scenarios before you reach a consensus with yourself. You look back up to him and your face softens. 

Reaching out your hand, you intertwine your fingers in his curls. As he turns his head to push it further into your hand, his breathing picks up. He grabs your fingers as they migrate to his jawline.  

“I want...I need more than this. I'd like to say I could wait, but all I can think about is kissing you until you can barely breathe.” Walter forces the words out, his breathing in time with yours. Erratic. 

You climb into his lap, one hand still in his, the other hand fisting his wool jumper. “Then kiss me until I can barely breathe. Fuck breathing. I just need you.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth, than Walter’s lips are on yours. It’s like he was starving and the breath from your lungs was the only meal he’d had in weeks. You could feel his hunger as he licked the seam of your lips, letting him in was the only option.  

As your tongues fought for dominance, he took the lead in a way you couldn’t ignore. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your torso flush to his. You felt so small yet so special as he held you. So new yet so treasured as you broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his to calm your nerves and catch your breath. 

A moment passes between you where you both just breathe. Until you lean your head back, locking eyes with Walter again, and you nod. He understands your non-verbal request, picking you up and walking toward his bedroom. Kicking the door behind him, he lays you down in bed and gets to work undressing you. 

You lift your hips as he pulls your jeans and underwear down your legs. You remove your top and bra, and he watches as your body is exposed to him. He stands to make quick work of his jumper, and you salivate at the sight of his hardness through his boxers when his jeans are pushed down his legs. His hefty dick springs up against his abdomen as his boxers are removed. 

Your hands roam over his hairy chest as he climbs onto the bed. With a hand under each knee, he pushes your legs back as far as they will go. He admires the shiny wetness that your pussy leaks. Shifting closer, he pushes the head of his dick through your folds and groans. 

He looks up into your eyes and asks silently if he can continue. When you nod, he enters you and your body accepts him fully. Allowing you to get adjusted to his size, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls out until just the tip remains inside you before he slams back into you. This time you both groan, you at the fullness, him at the tight squeeze. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing. But please, keep moving.” Your words are all he needed to begin an all-out assault on your cunt. 

If it had been a while for him, you’d be none the wiser with the stamina this man possessed. He held your legs open while he fucked into you. He allowed you to just take it as he did most of the work. You could hardly keep up with his thrusts as you melted beneath him. 

“You’re so fucking close, just let go for me. I can feel you squeezing my fucking cock. Be a good girl and come for me.” While he whispered in your ear, he ground his pelvis into you to stimulate your clit and G-spot at the same time. 

When your resolve finally breaks, you try and hide your face in Walter’s neck to no avail. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls you back so he can watch your orgasm play out on your face. 

“Don’t hide from me when I’m making you come. I want to watch you fall apart under my hands. You are so fucking gorgeous when you come for me, girl.” He talks as you come down from your orgasm and the warmth that spreads over your body is palpable. 

“Thank you,” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

Walter all but runs with it. “Fuck yes, you fucking thank me for your orgasm. That’s my good girl.” He pulls out, turning you on your side and sliding in behind you. Entering you again, he reaches a hand around to play with your clit. Circling your nub, then flicking it to keep you stimulated enough to come all over his fingers. 

You come for a second time within a few minutes, and he fucks you through it. Your words are clipped while you try to thank him once more and it just comes out as breathy whispers. 

Your moans are music to his ears and he pistons in and out of you. As your walls massage his cock, he starts to falter in his movements. You reach back to grab his hand, lacing your fingers together before pulling your hands to your chest. 

Getting the message, Walter wraps his other arm around you to pull you even more impossibly close to him. He slows down his pace, dragging out your moans as he unhurriedly moves inside you. He leans into your ear and speaks softly. 

“You have no idea how much I needed this. How much I wanted you. I didn’t know how to talk to you. Fuck, you feel amazing. Need you every day, girl. Just like this, wrapped up in you. I won’t last much longer. So perfect.” He babbles near the end, whimpering your name. He latches onto your neck as he stills inside you. 

His teeth nip at you and his tongue soothes your skin as you feel his cock twitch and paint your walls with his spend. You can hear him groan in your ear as his arms hold you tight. You haven’t felt this safe in someone’s arms since you were little. You don’t notice you’re crying until Walter wipes away the tears that fall down your face. 

“I’m sorry, I—” 

“If you’re about to apologize for crying in front of me, please don’t. You deserve to express your emotions no matter who is around. Least of all, me.” He places a kiss on your neck, attempting to soothe you. 

“Fair. I haven’t been held or even touched in so long and it’s a little embarrassing that my first reaction is to cry.” You sniff, rolling your eyes at yourself. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I know that’s easier said than done. But trust me, we just experienced some intense sex. And it was emotional for both of us. Trust me. Can’t you feel how fucking hard I am still inside you?” He moves his hips just slightly and is rewarded with a shiver going down your spine. 

“Walter...please.” You let your whimpers be heard and you get what you want.  

He moves to his knees while keeping you on your side. He pushes your leg up to a 90-degree angle and leans forward to fuck into you. The sound of slapping flesh fills the room as well as Walter’s grunts as he buries himself deeper inside you than before. 

“I’m gonna...please, don’t stop!” You reach up to hold his cheek in one hand and he shuts his eyes at the contact. When they open again, his pupils are blown wide. 

“Not stopping until you come again for me, girl.” The hand on his cheek migrates to his forehead to wipe away sweat-slick curls from his brow. 

“Come with me, Walter!”  

“Ugh, fuck!” 

The hold you have on your orgasm falters and your walls flutter around him, his hands curl around your thigh as his hips pound into you one last time. As his cock spurts inside you, your cunt continues to milk him until he softens and is released from your hold on him. 

He collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. You reach an arm across his chest and settle in to catch your breath. Looking up one last time to Walter’s face, you’re pleasantly surprised to see a smile on his normally grumpy face. His eyes are closed, and you feel at peace knowing you are the cause of that serene expression. 

“Stay with me tonight.” You’re startled by his words, but you can’t deny the smile that crosses your face.  

Leaning up to kiss his stubbled neck, you revel in the grunt that follows. “Good night, Walter.” 

You feel him kiss the top of your head, nosing at your hair. “Night.” 

You fall asleep with your hand in his chest hair, your legs tangled together. You are held, you are safe, and you couldn’t be happier. Talking about what all this means could wait until the morning. For now, you bask in the feeling of warmth that this man and this moment give you. 

Touch and Go: The Morning After

A/N: Shout out to @sillyrabbit81 for her Detective Grumpypants Spotify playlist which helped me so much in writing this. 

**Tag List** 

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel 

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁 

[its-time-to-write]

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

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

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

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

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

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

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

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

The hormones don’t help either. 

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

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

—

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

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

Ah, right. Jamie. 

Your boyfriend. 

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

[reidsaurora]

"Trick, No Treat" ~ D. Morgan

Summary: When Derek and Reader get stuck on the haunted house ride at the fair, they play a game of Twenty Questions to calm Reader down. Little do they know… they were the answer to Derek's question all along.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,129

Content Warning: very mild swearing, mentions of haunted house related things, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i think i forgot how to write Derek fics because this lowkey sucks akshshddhh

Originally Written: 10/29/2023 through 10/31/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

Your heart raced as you assessed the situation, panic running rampant through your veins.

It was dark and cold, and the smell of carnival food, while once pleasant, was overwhelming your senses and making you nauseous. The thumping in your chest sped up with every passing second that the ride didn't move again.

As if he could read your thoughts, Derek reached over to your side of the cart, nudging your fingers with his own. "You can hold onto me if it'll make you feel better," he said, the words never judgemental, but instead sympathetic. "I don't bite," he chuckled.

If you weren't already embarrassed from your apparent scaredy-cat behavior, you might've taken him up on the offer. "I'm okay, just… just talk to me?"

You might fight serial killers and terrorists for a living, but dammit if you weren't afraid of the dark. It didn't help that he'd somehow convinced you to go on the 'The Creep Show,' where a demon had jump-scared you moments before the lights went out and the ride froze.

"About what?" he asked, fingers still brushing yours in the dark.

"Anything not related to clowns, demons, dolls, or Jason Voorhees," you said, the words meant to be lighthearted but still managing to come out shaky.

Derek's breath was warm against your skin as he settled in closer to you. Chatter had begun to pick up in the dark area, everyone no doubt discussing what had happened mid-ride. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, you might've felt his presence unnerving, given your long standing crush on the man, but tonight, the heat of his words and the sound of his breathing managed to bring you a tad bit of comfort in all the chaos.

"Okay… uh, tell me your favorite color."

The question caught you off guard, and while it wasn't visible in the pitch-black space, you shot a confused look in the direction of his voice. "What?"

"You said to talk. So I'm asking you a question. Favorite color?" he asked again, this time stating it almost as a command.

"Um… purple," you answered, curious to know where he was going with this.

He paused for a moment, as if to think about his response. After a few seconds, he spoke again. "Okay, I'm thinking of something that reminds me of the color purple. Now you have to guess."

Derek's game seemed a bit childish to you, but you supposed it was a distraction regardless. "Um, is it alive?" A strategy you'd picked up as a child, to weed out the animals and humans from the inanimate objects.

"Yes," he answered, a chuckle settling on the tip of his tongue.

Your minds raced to think of all the things it could be. "Okay, is it a person?"

"Yes."

A small wave of jealousy came over you, despite your lack of confessing the crush you had on him. Still, you managed to take a deep breath, reminding yourself that it could be any number of persons. "Are they a celebrity?"

"Depends on your definition of famous."

A confused crease formed between your brows, though it was invisible in the non-existent light of the broken ride. "Okay… are they pretty?"

"The most beautiful person on planet earth."

A pang shot through your heart, a poisoned arrow hitting a bullseye. You wondered why he'd bother to bring up someone like a supermodel or an actress or anyone else for that matter when you were right there in front of him. After all, regardless of if Derek had knowledge of your crush on him, it was just common courtesy not to, given one's self esteem.

Just as your next question started to leave your mouth, the ride started up again, the loud music drowning out any words you might've attempted to say. Your eyes stayed straight ahead of you as the ride continued, focusing not on the clowns and demons jumping out at you, but rather on the tears that you willed not to fall.

Soon enough, Derek was holding out his hand and helping you out of the cart. He acted as though nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't just crushed what little hope you did have of ever asking him out.

"You never gave me a final guess, by the way," he mentioned as the two of you started to walk toward one of the concession booths.

You shook off your thoughts, meeting his gaze as he stepped into the line. "I'm not sure you gave me enough information," you jested in an attempt to act natural.

"Oh, I think I gave you plenty of information," he chuckled back, his eyes soft as they returned your gaze.

A soft huff of fake annoyance fell off your lips. "Well then, your hints suck because I truly have no clue who you were talking about."

Derek flashed you that signature smile of his, and your heart screamed in anger at your brain for falling desperately in love with it. "Okay…" he started to say, "How's this for a hint?"

The world felt as though it was moving in slow motion when one of his hands cupped your cheek, glancing between your eyes and lips as he waited for an answer. Your sadness quickly turned to a wave of anxious excitement as you nodded, nearly fainting when he planted his lips on yours. A rush of joy and anticipation and exhilaration coursed through your veins, and you truly couldn't believe this was happening.

His lips parted from yours, and already, you wished he'd never leave. Still, he met you with another one of those beautiful toothy smiles, butterflies floating around in your belly at the sight. "Think you know the answer now?"

Never one to back away from your friendly banter, and despite the anxiety flowing through you from head to toe, you managed to joke, "I think you were referring to Megan Fox."

A light snicker tumbled out of him at your comment. "Trust me, she's got nothing on you."

"You promise you aren't pulling my leg? This isn't some Halloween prank?"

He met you with a look of honesty, lips pulling together for a closed-lip smile. "I promise, this is all treat, no trick. Besides, if it was a Halloween prank, would I offer to do it again?"

You shook your head. "I suppose not." You thought for a moment, meeting him with slightly confused eyes. "Are you? Offering again, I mean?"

"If you're accepting."

Suddenly, a wave of confidence came over you. Flashing the man a smile, you placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him down for another kiss, electricity shooting through you at the feeling of your lips on his. "I'm always accepting when it comes to you, Derek Morgan."

Happy Halloweek Finale, my dearest auroras! 🥹

As previously stated, I totally meant to have this up sooner, but life kicked my butt the past few days and it took me so long to get a chance to edit these last few fics for you guys.

I really hope you guys have enjoyed this week as much as I did! I had so much fun writing all these fics for y'all and getting to celebrate the holiday with you guys. If all goes according to plan, I'm hoping to do something similar to this near Christmas as well so stay tuned for that!

I hope you all had a very happy Halloween and a wonderful Halloweek! Thank you all so much for the love on these fics 🥰

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @danielle143 @topguncultleader @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @maelartasch

[colemorrison]

"I worry about you."

"Uh huh."

Ramattra turned to you, did you believe he didn't care about you?

"Have I made it seem as though I don't?"

"No. It's.. It's just been a day."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not today."

“Would you like me to massage your feet?”

The omnic could practically feel the steam coming off of you so he simply kneeled by your chair, hands out and ready. He waited there till you sat down with your food and let his hands massage the soles of your feet and up to your ankles.

The silence would make him nauseous if he could be, but it made him worry most. He was worried he’d upset you further so he didn’t speak.

“I love you.”

“I.. I love you.”

It caught him off guard. He adored you but usually he would be the first to say it, though he did love when you said it first.

“..I missed you while you were gone today.”

“I missed you baby.”

The pet name made his insides warm, he loved you more than he could explain. One of your hands came to pet his head softly, making him scoot closer to you.

————

@ya-zz

[whumble-beeee]

Just Relax (It's Not That Serious)

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 13

Content: drugging, noncon undressing, dissociation, (fear of) needles, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, flashbacks (ptsd), tied up/handcuffs, past captivity references, begging, fear, light unreality? (related to the ptsd)

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[The first 72 hours after a hero’s capture is also massively critical to you, villain, as your hero’s keeper! When planning on long-term hero-keeping, use this time to lie low, keep your hero firmly in your grasp, and really set the mood for the rest of their stay. Set non-negotiable expectations. Show your patience. For as much as your hero may fight you, curse and jeer and scorn and defy you, they will still be only human (with select power exceptions, of course). They will still need food, water, shelter. All of which must be obtained from you, their captor! You are the one ultimately in control, no matter how much the hero may scream otherwise. 

So why are these first 72 hours so important? Well, how long do experts generally agree that a person can survive without food or water? How long can they ignore you? How long before they have to rely on you for their every need?

72 hours.

Be patient.

Make them count.]

* * * * * * * *

“Finally, Christ,” Deeby muttered under his breath as Stan finished forcing the bar down his throat. It had taken him longer than he'd meant, what with the dehydration and the not wanting to be drugged and the weary pain that seeped into his every bone and the spinning of the room and the not wanting to be drugged. It was a surprisingly difficult task to knowingly poison himself. Who’d've thunk?

“Happy?” Stan finally spat with a heaving breath. There was the slightest taste of salt and battery acid twinging the back of his mouth. It made him nauseous.

Deeby absent-mindedly grabbed the used protein bar wrapper and tossed it into his plastic bag. “Yeah. Not done yet, though.”

 Stan whined. It was all he could do to not start crying on the spot. “Why can't you just let me fall into unconsciousness in peace? I ate your stupid protein bar! It's-it's never-ending with you!”

“Well, it feels less gross to have you undress now than when you're high off your ass.”

Stan blinked. It was like the world had been overlaid with TV static for a moment. But he was back. Violently. Because what? “Ah– Co-come again?” 

“Your uh– fuckin’... What's it called, your tank top? The transgender tank top, the one that squishes your ribs. Your… ‘tranksgender’ top.”

“My binder?”

Deeby snapped his fingers in triumph. “That's the bitch! We're taking that off now.”

“WHAT?!”

“I can help if you want. I don’t know how long it's gonna take the drug to start affecting you, considering you haven’t eaten in two days, so it might not–”

“I’m not taking my binder off!” Stan yelled, startling back from yet another all-consuming dip into the static. The worst part was, it wasn't even unpleasant. He almost would have enjoyed it, save for the predator six feet away stalking at him as if he were a wounded antelope, one hand resting on the ornate knife holstered right next to his gun. His eyes sparkled with that ever-dangerous red excitement that Stan had become painfully acquainted with again and again and again over the past two days, though there was something more serious underneath the child-like sadism. Tired eyes, deep breaths... 

“I know you're not supposed to wear it for this long, runt.” The mercenary brushed the still bright-red gash on his cheek from where Stan had whacked him with the handcuffs. “And besides, I still need to get you back for this. Please make me do it the hard way.”

Stan’s breath caught between a groan and a cry and his vision swam around him, only grounded by the sudden noxious pit in his stomach. “Dee-deeby…” he panted. “Stay away from me.”

Deeby continued to stalk closer, voice taking that dangerous low twang, the light bass growl snaking through the room and slithering around Stan’s throat, suffocating him more than a literal yank by his damn collar would. “Aw…” he tutted. “That's no fun, is it chiquito? I think you just need–”

“OKAY, OKAY!” Stan skittered back, pressing himself into the wall with racing heart and rabbit-fast breath. “I'll-I'll do it, I'll do it! You don't– You–... I'll take off my binder…”

That did, in fact, stop Deeby dead in his tracks. Stan swayed. Deeby looked at him expectantly. Stan stared into the distance. Deeby raised an eyebrow and made an impatient circular motion at Stan with his hands: get moving.

The static.

“Runt, if you don’t–”

“I– jus– ju-just-just don't touch me–”

“Stan–” Deeby warned, taking a single step toward him. All the air sucked out of the room. “I'm done giving you chances. Off. Now, or I'll do it.”

Stan grit his teeth with an almost mewling whine. His cheeks burned a bright red embarrassment under near-invisible blue freckles, and his very lungs stuttered as they tried to figure out if he wanted to scream or just cry. He started to pulled the shirt over his head, slowly, as if he could go slow enough that the bounty hunter would just get bored and give up entirely.

Ha.

Then he lost his way. He searched. More fabric. Where did the holes go? Where was he? He was lost! He tangled his arms around, searching, growling with frustration as he unsuccessfully tried to free himself, genuinely trapped as time simultaneously moved way too fast and excruciatingly slow. Then a whoosh, and his cotton-polyester prison disappeared, pulled off over his head to reveal a very amused Deeby glinting back at him, eyes sparkling as always. 

It was so cold in here.

Stan shoved him away, thankfully braced against the wall or else he might have fallen over himself. The world was so… tilted.

“Turn-turn around,” Stan ordered, blinking hard to keep himself present.

“What, no ‘thank you?’”

“Turn around!”

“Not turning around, bud.”

“Please, I don-don’t– don’t want you to-to see– to–...Turn around!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please! Deeby, I’m begging!”

“Not happenin’,” he sang, deadpan as ever.

“I thought you-you-you-ou said you weren't gugh-guh-gon-gonna–...” Stan shivered and took a deep breath. This stutter was driving him insane. “Tha-at you weren't a perv!”

“I'm not. I'm not gonna do anything except make sure you're not trying to pull some shit.”

“I won’t! I'm drugged! I-I can’t even take my shirt off!”

“All the more reason–”

“Declan!” Stan pleaded, pupils blown out and wide, tension at the top of his mouth so tight he was sure he was about to start bawling. “I care. I care-are-re. I don’t wan-want you–... Please…”

His voice turned high and quiet, tears burning to fall, pressure building up behind his eyes and ready to burst.

“Plea-ease…”

Declan closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose. Another tired deep breath.

“Turn yourself around if you care so much,” he muttered. The knife appeared in his hands, point pressed into the taut fabric on Stan's chest. “I'm done playing games. Stop stalling. Now.”

“I’m no-ot–”

The mercenary grabbed the strap of Stan’s binder and yanked him forward, barely pulling the knife out of the way in time for Stan to not fall on top of it and instead sending him hurtling into the man’s chest with a blood-curdling screech, then flailing and shoving off of the captor as hard as humanly possible. The push mixed with a sudden heavy fog bank engulfing his mind mixed with a painful misstep on his bad leg caused him to all but crumble to the freezing concrete floor in a heap, chin banged and bleeding and dripping and staining on the ground as his face pressing into scratchy dirt particles, as he laid there confused and scared and scrambling, just trying to figure out how to silence the roaring confusion of his mind as it blindly panicked in the pressing, buzzing fog that surrounded it. Threatened to swallow him whole.

Then a force grasped him by the back of his neck. Then a knee planted into the base of his spine. The full body weight of a man at least twice his size ground into his lower vertebrates, seemingly trying to press them straight through the soft flesh of his stomach into the unforgiving floor.

Stan screamed.

Was Deeby going back on his promise not to–

GET OFF!!

His binder, he couldn't let Declan take it off.

OWOWOWOWOW– NO NONONO–

The fog the fog the fog the fog the fog the fog buzzing buzzing buzzing buzzing BZZZZZZZZZZ–

A gloved hand pressed him into the floor by the back of his neck. Others in scratchy black tactical gear held his flailing limbs down. He strained. He cried. He screamed. He screamed so loud. So loud his throat was sore. They didn’t let up.

He wanted his mom. His dad. His sister. COME HELP!! Where were they? He cried out for them, heaving sobs. Unheeded.

“DEEBY!” He screeched, feet kicking out as if they could somehow free himself if he just kicked hard enough. “Get off! GET OFF! You're not taking my binder off–!”

“Mhm, yeah, sure bud,” Deeby mumbled as Stan continued his tantrum. His fingers squeezed slightly at either side of Stan’s neck. Warning. Patient. Waiting. He was waiting him out. Stan's head spun as if filled with angry bees, cries becoming weaker, fighting more and more sluggish as Deeby just sat on top of him.

Where was his sister? Where was Chloe?! CHLOE!! He needed to protect her! That was his only task! Protect her! He’d failed, he’d failed, he needed to save her, save them, get away. Every time he raged and strained and screamed another hand just came to pin him to the dusty ground. He was an animal thrashing around in a cage, a trap that only tightened around his throat the more he struggled.

“DEEBY– Deeby… Declan, Deeb– please get off, please, I need to save her, I don't– I just– can't–... ple-ee-ea-ease…” 

Deeby didn't say anything. Was it the drug that made him feel like he was floating on air as a pressure chamber simultaneously caged in his skull, teasing it to shatter? Or maybe the hyperventilating as he realized there was no escape. Or maybe the gutting hunger, or the throat squeezing thirst, or the burning panic, or the bone-deep exhaustion, or the pain, the pain, make it stop, all-encompassing, never-ending, or the violent shaking from lack of oxygen, or any number of the many other things that were wrong with him. Maybe all of them. His limbs lay stiff, as if held down by lead weights. His protests devolved into barely a whimpering whisper. He couldn't breathe. Not with the bounty hunter on top of him pressing his stomach into the floor, not with the probably broken ribs, not with the binder pressing into the swelling of his ribs and making every intake of air a monumentally agonizing feat achieved less and less each time…

“God, shut her up, I’m not dealing with this in the transport.”

“Really? It’s just a kid.”

“Unless you’d rather I shut her up myself.”

NO NO NO ESCAPE ESCAPE HE NEEDED TO FIND HIS FAMILY–

A tiny little prick on his upper arm. He screamed. Screamed until he couldn’t anymore, screamed because he couldn’t do anything else, screamed until one of the gloved hands slapped over his mouth and stayed there until he quieted, and then he couldn’t even scream. It stayed there until tears soaked through the course fabric. The edges of his vision started to go dark. 

“That’s it kid, shut up, go to sleep. Don’t struggle. It’ll be easier if you just relax.”

His head fell limp against the dirty ground.

He was gonna die here, wasn't he?

Yeah.

Made sense. 

He let his head lie down on the floor.

He lurched with silent sobs.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He couldn't.

This was all pointless.

He was done.

And he went limp.

“There ya go. Attaboy.”

Deeby's voice came from above him. Slow, comforting, praising, as if he were speaking from a thousand miles away.

“Attagirl…” The last voice he heard. The last time he saw his childhood home. The last time he saw his parents. The end of his first fight for his life. Failed. 

The black consumed him. 

Stan let out something between a whine and a sob. The mercenary took just a moment to readjust, legs now caging him in and pushing inward on either side of Stan's hips. “Yeah okay, whatever runt. Let’s just get this done.” 

Deeby's fingers probed under the binder for a moment, causing Stan to squirm anew purely on instinct. Until he hit a particularly nasty bruise. An electrical storm webbed through his ribcage. A flash of white. Stan yelped a cut-off, strangled squeal, a sound he prayed he’d never have to hear again.

“Sorry…” muttered above him. His binder flipped upward and over itself, a brief squeeze, the fabric pulling lightly at his skin, his arms, his hair, then pressure relieved.

Breathe in…

Holy fuck, he was alive!

Stan gulped in the first deep breath he'd taken in what felt like years, gasping and desperate and a full, deep breath. His senses sharpened. Kinda. He still sat pinned within a sea of cotton, the static that blanketed the clouds, limbs heavy, mind slow. But he could breathe! He almost remembered that he only felt like this because Deeby forcibly stripped him. That bitch.

“Holy shit,” the bounty hunter whispered quietly, amazed, almost inaudible. A moment of breath-taking clarity as adrenaline shot through Stan’s system for one last, final hurrah. Holy shit?

“Wh-what, what–?” He tried unsuccessfully to turn around and see. He even managed to convince himself that he didn't care that his tits were basically out, right before he flopped face-first into the ground again. This drug worked miracles.

Declan paused for a moment. Then: “Ah… Nothing, nothing, just, your ribs are much worse off than I thought. Bruised to shit…”

Stan laughed. Really? Bruised to shit? Who could have guessed? The burning anger and hatred and desperation he expected to feel, that he'd been fighting nonstop for two or three or however-the-hell many days straight? It was now buried under layers of static and sand and that lovely familiar darkness which pressed everything that made him himself to somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of his brain, unnoticed in the rolling fog. Though the knot in his throat that made him want to burst out crying still persisted. That was weird. What did he have to cry about? “Yeah… maybe you should… not… Aheh, uh, throw me… to–... walls anymore…” he giggled. He was pretty sure at least. That’s what his voice sounded like, right?

His limbs were so heavy. He might not be able to move them if he tried. Not that he wanted to. What if he just went to sleep right here?

Ah shit, he didn't have a shirt on still.

But like, who even cared anymore? The mercenary would take what he wanted, including Stan’s shirt, including his binder. He could take everything from him. Take his freedom, take his personhood, take any slight chance at happiness or have a normal family that wasn’t shattered to pieces. Shoot him with that pretty old gun, take his life entirely. Come back again and again just to make sure Stan never saw the light of day again. Who even cared if he saw Stan’s chest? Who even cared if this was one of the most humiliating things to ever happen to him? He shouldn’t fight so hard. He wouldn't be pinned face down to the floor and chained up and drugged if he just stopped fighting. This was fine. He felt fine. He liked this.

Keep fighting, rage, rage, escape.

Oh, shut up.

He felt the white overly large shirt being pulled back on over his head a million miles away, something with Eeby-Deeby getting frustrated again and his arms getting roughly shoved through the armholes before Stan could even try to lift his leaden limbs.

Chill out, man. It's fine. It's not that serious.

The way the world swirled around him was almost a comfort now. He was drugged. He knew it, it was just a fact now. The fog and the static and the way he could barely think and the way it was kinda hard to move and the way it took a second to move even if he did actually want to move… That wasn’t really Stan. That was some other guy. He was just drugged. Drugged Stan.

It was nice. Normal Stan was always so wound up about everything. Normal Stan fought so hard to change what couldn’t be changed, made everything so much worse for himself. And for what? He’d always be captured again, always chained up, always poked and prodded and beholden to the will of others, always treated like a petulant, whiny animal that needs to be tamed. Normal Stan couldn’t seem to get that. Normal Stan was those bad thoughts at the edges of his mind, the ones that kept him screaming, running, fighting even when Deeby got up off of him and gave him water which he desperately needed, sweet, sweet, water that relieved the pain and carried all his troubles away like a gently rushing river, cooled his insides of the burning heat and anger. GOD, he forgot how nice water tasted.

It was weird. Eeber-Deeber was almost thoughtful, in his own special way. When you looked past the violence. Stan should be nicer to him, make him not have to violence so much. Maybe then Stan go home! No fight, just go home and see his family… he didn’t really have a home, did he? No… But that was okay, because he still had Marcus and Chloe! He could see them again! That would be nice. Marcus, Chloe. He loved them so much. He needed to protect them. Why was he still here? His Mom and Dad couldn’t protect them, it was his job because they were…

Dead?

Dead.

It was for the best that they were.

It was fine though. It wasn’t that serious. 

…

He missed them.

* * * * * * * *

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[rena-and-raw-cookie-dough]

So I think this statement was a special brand or horror designed for me. Cause, uh, WHAT THE FUCK.

I work at a fast food place in the summer, and the grills and fryers always make me nauseous and like I can feel the stink stay on me. Hungry Man Grill would have me running out no matter how much it tries to affect me.

Also something something Collin coming in with a steel hammer.

[jisungiesvzz]

You Need To Eat Well

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: eating disorder, panic attack, anxiety, throwing up, fluff at the end?

Word Count: 1.8k

P.S. This is my first post so please let me know if I’ve missed warnings! Also, this is NOT proof read so send in any typos or wtvr lol.

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

It was around lunch time when you were with Jisung and his members in their practice room. They were arguing over a particular dance move while you lay on the couch in the corner, mindlessly scrolling through a social media app. 

“Alright enough!” Bangchan said, raising his voice a bit.

You flinched slightly at his sudden unexpected tone change. The members went silent but Jisung stared at you, noticing your sudden movement. You noticed him staring and quickly went back to looking at your phone.

“Clearly we are all frustrated with each other and arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

The other members nodded their heads in agreement as a bunch of sighs went around the room.

“You’re right,” Changbin chimed in. “It is a little past lunchtime, let’s grab something to eat and start up again after.”

You shuttered at the idea of eating in a group.

“Yeah, I could really use some food.” Hyunjin agreed. The other members simultaneously shuffled off to their bags to grab what they needed before regrouping at the door.

You saw a shadow approaching you and you set down your phone, sitting up to see who it was.

Jisung.

“You should come with us, you need to eat too.”

“Uh… yeah no I’ll go with you guys.” You replied back, making sure to avoid the part about you actually eating.

You grabbed your phone and wallet and walked out the door with the group. You tried to subtly walk behind the members to avoid the topic of food without making it obvious. Seungmin and I.N were debating very loudly over which ramen place would be better to eat at. Hearing the word ramen made you feel physically ill. You did your best to put on a smile but Jisung noticed you were a little pale and matched your pace to walk next to you. 

“How are you feeling? You look a little pale.” He asked, trying to sound calm but his concern was more evident in his voice than he intended.

“Oh I’m pale? I feel fine though.” You said trying to sound convincing.

“Are you sure?” He asked, not believing you.

You nodded your head with the best reassuring smile you could muster up. You could tell he didn’t really believe you but before anymore could be said you had arrived at the restaurant.

The group grabbed a table and you tried not to sit next to Jisung to avoid him noticing your eating pattern. You sat next to Felix and Bangchan which made Jisung frown a little but he shrugged it off and sat next to Felix.

Minutes went by and your mood began to change for the better as Felix started excitedly talking  to you about his upcoming Louis Vuitton photoshoot. You slowly forgot about where you were until the waiter came up and started taking everyone’s orders. It came to your turn and you were already dreading everyone looking at you, waiting for you to order. You pretended to look at the menu and then ordered a small appetizer. 

The waiter finished writing down the orders and walked away.

“Y/n-ah you should’ve ordered more, that won’t fill you up,” Lee know stated from across the table.

Your stomach dropped. Everyone was looking at you.

“I uh- I ate a big breakfast, I’m just… not that hungry right now,” you felt so pathetic through the lie. 

“Breakfast was so long ago, we’ll order you some ramen,” Bangchan said, waving down the waiter before you could reject his statement.

The food arrived moments later, and the second the bowl was put in front of you, you felt so nauseous. 

It’s too much food. You look like a pig eating this in front of them, Don’t it eat, they’re judging.

You tried to wait a couple minutes before excusing yourself to the bathroom but you almost threw up just thinking about picking up the chopsticks. 

“I’m gonna head to restroom real quick,” you said quickly and you sped to the bathroom.

You swung the door open, not bothering to lock it behind you. You immediately started belching and throwing up into the toilet. Tears streamed down your face as you continued throwing up. The door cracked open and you faintly heard someone’s worried voice.

“Y/n-ah…?”

A second later, someone was dashing towards you and holding your hair back. You shuttered aggressively once you stopped vomiting and let out a shaky whimper. You felt someone’s hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles on it. 

“What happened...?” You recognized the voice. It was Jisung.

You sighed not wanting to speak.

Jisung grabbed your chin and turned head to look up at him. He looked you in the eyes and he could see the hurt in them.

“Talk to me. Please, Y/n…” he quietly begged.

“I just feel sick, it… it could be a c-cold.” You stammered through your lie.

It was evident in his eyes that he didn’t fully believe you but after a few moments of thought he let it go.

“I’m gonna tell the members you’re not feeling well then I’m taking you home.”

“Ji, I’m fine-”

He cuts you off, “Y/n don’t argue with me. You are sick and you need rest.”

You sighed and gave in, nodding your head. He helped you stand up and headed back to the table to grab your things.

—————

You lay in bed staring up at the ceiling with Jisung laying next to you. It had been quiet for a while, leaving plenty of time for Jisung to think. He noticed you were pale again.

“Do you think you can get down some broth?” He broke the silence.

You internally gagged but he didn’t notice.

“I’m not hungry,” you reply weakly.

He sat up, slightly hovering over you, “Y/n, I’m worried about you. You’re super pale, it’s not normal.”

He thinks you’re ill. You can’t eat. He’ll laugh at you for wanting food.

“Stop, please…” you begged, rubbing your face “I can’t think about food anymore… please, just stop.”

The tears were forming again and that’s when Jisung caught on.

“Are you… Y/n when was the last time you really ate?”

“I told you, I ate this mor-”

He cut you off, “Don’t lie Y/n, when was the last time you ate.”

Silence feel between you two. Tears pricked Jisung’s eyes as his suspicions were confirmed. He didn’t say anything before getting up and leaving the room.

He’s leaving you. He thinks you’re pathetic for not eating. You can’t eat. Don’t eat. He’ll think you’re a pig.

The thoughts kept rolling in and you started to panic, your thoughts consuming you by the minute. A couple minutes go by and Jisung comes back in with a small cup of broth. He sits on the edge of the bed and moves the cup towards your lap. You shake your head but he just looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Think of it as flavored water, yeah? It’s not food.”

“I- I can’t…. I-” 

The panic is setting in. Your breathing became labored and you started shaking uncontrollably. You desperately tried to calm down but everything felt like it was caving in on you; the ceiling, the walls, the mattress pulling you into an endless abyss as you gripped at them tightly. 

Jisung practically threw the cup onto the nightstand as he saw you panicking.

“Hey what’s wrong?” He asked, concern evident in his voice.

You tried to answer but your breath kept getting caught in your throat. You begin clawing at  your chest as you felt like you were about to combust, tears now pouring out of your eyes. Jisung knew you were choking on your words and grew scared that you soon wouldn’t be able to breathe at all. He wrapped you in his arms, your head flesh with his chest.

“I need you to take deep breaths, love” he spoke, trying to sound grounded. “Listen to my breathing.” 

He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. You roughly tried to follow his breathing but it didn’t seem to be enough. You wanted to speak again but he stopped you.

“Don’t. Please, just… just keep breathing,” he took one of your hands and put it on his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. It was slow and steady, reminding you that he was there with you. He soothingly rubbed your back as your breathing began to slow down and your shaking subsided.

You sniffled softly before Jisung spoke again.

“What’s going on in your head, Y/n? You need to let me in. You’re not okay.”

“I don’t think this is something you can fix.”

“I can try. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I… I just feel like I’m constantly getting judged by people when I eat. I’m constantly comparing myself to how much others eat and I constantly feel like I’m defined by how much, how little, or even what I eat.” You sniffled and blinked trying to hold back your tears again.

‘Oh y/n…” he cooed, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head. ‘That’s not true. You need to eat well. People care for you and we aren’t judging you.”

Jisung’s voice cracks as he also begins to tear up, “It hurts me to know that you feel this way. But I want you to know that I’m here for you, every step of the way. I’m going to help you through this, okay?”

You lifted your head off his chest, your eyes irritated  and red from crying. You looked him in the eyes and saw his hurt,  but through that hurt you saw comfort, reconciliation and… love. His gaze softened as he cupped your cheek with his hand.

“You are loved. You understand that? I…” he paused for a moment. “I love you.”

Time froze. Your heart melted at his words.

He loved you. 

His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. He leaned closer leaving barely any space between you, giving you a chance to back away. When you didn’t move, he closed the gap between you in a melancholy kiss. He conveyed his love for you in that sweet moment and you felt his love radiated throughout you. 

Jisung broke away from the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours, slightly short of breath.

There was a moment of silence between you but that was all you needed. 

“I love you too.”