#and my blood sugar was worse than it was when i was in the fucking HOSPITAL over it
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it's been 4~ weeks of CPAP trialing (i think) and i have hung out with my best friend more often than i have in 5 years, i've been chatting to another old old best friend frequently and chatting to THEIR loved ones and friends a little too. and i'm not anxious out of my mind about it - in fact i reached out and started a couple DM convos that went well. i've been writing again a little. doodled a mech. i've been showering every few days rather than every few weeks. i've been dancing to myself in my room while i do Tasks (and i'm *doing tasks*. i *vacuumed* and i *cleaned my bathroom*), listening to music more often In General. almost constantly. i started tentatively trying to build up strength in my muscles again and there's already a huge difference - i'm not struggling at all when lifting my paint station anymore, it's light. my legs stopped trembling when i go down stairs. i helped carry heavy groceries inside no problem. using my standing desk for more than an hour is comfortable. my sex drive is starting to return in bits and pieces. i'm pushing my limits slowly and carefully because i know how hard overexerting myself can hit me fatigue-wise. but i haven't been hit yet. i'm still just... fine
jesus christ i was fucked up huh
#sleep apn*a is. much worse for you than i realized it could be#like i knew it wasn't good but. the difference between pre-CPAP and post-CPAP is a fucking gulf *already*#had a full 9 hours last night and i've been buzzing all goddamn day#did my exercises. did gentle weights. chatted and wrote. working on minis now#the past few days i've had occasional 'oh shit am i having a blood sugar low' moments but it hasn't been when i checked#i've just. been excited or enthused#and feeling it physically again#i didn't. realize that i could be so fatigued i stopped feeling emotions in my body#i didn't realize having energy would help me not be stressed about social situations#fuck dude#like is this... gonna be permanent? if i use a CPAP am i just going to get to feel alive again
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my blood sugar has been high all day so far i do not feel good :(
#it was high all night as well... my mom is being stupid and didn't want me to have a higher correction dose cause “some people need sleep”#(she might have to stay up to watch my bg in case i go low... but like. I can stay up instead of her? she just doesn't want me to.)#(it's like a control thing or sm idk i don't understand her)#but anyways my bg is high now cause I listened to her and only did 2 units qwq#and just now i only did 5 for another correction dose#hopefully it works anyways#i had yet again some really random dreams last night due to high blood sugar#in my dream i took it and it was 800#it wasn't that high irl when i woke up thank god cause that would be an emergency#it was 280 but that still sucks#and it's 266 now :|#and to make things worse my mom's all like “stop being rude to people” no fuck u i feel like shit i'm gonna be rude esp when#she's the reason im high in the first place#it's around the time of the month where yknow the thing happens and my bg always runs higher than normal around this time#but i knew i needed more insulin i just didnt wanna fricking argue with her#maybe ill just lie next time#i'm a bad liar tho#i hate this#diabetic#t1d#t1 diabetic#high blood sugar
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#you know. back in early or mid-january i was thinking i was finally getting my blood sugar under control#after a year of literal blood sweat and tears i was almost there!!!#and then my insurance and my endo’s incompetence happened#and they wouldn’t give me my insulin or my one non-insulin medication#and my blood sugar was worse than it was when i was in the fucking HOSPITAL over it#but i thought we got past that#in february they finally refilled both of those meds (after i’d run out)#and i thought ok. this still sucks but i can start getting back on track now.#except. now my insurance has once again decided NOT to give me my non-insulin medication#(which i am out of again and nearly a week overdo for a dose)#overdue*#and they are not only saying that they have zero records of ever giving me this medicine that i’ve been on since last year#(which. how tf have i been getting it then?????????)#but that they wouldn’t let me have it anyway bc i’ve only tried one cheaper med instead of three#which is a rule no one ever fucking told me about!!!!!!!#and with the way these meds work it would likely take two months MINIMUM to prove that two of them don’t work#and then another three months to get back to the dose i need of the medication i’ve already been on#which is a minimum of FIVE WASTED MONTHS#during which my blood sugar will likely stay bad and the other meds will give me who knows what unbearable side effects#and none of the meds they want me to try even do the one thing i chose my current medication for!!!!!!#and even after i get back to my dose of my medication it will still take a month or two at best to get my sugar numbers#back to where they were in january#which means this whole mess could reach into september or october#and increase the whole diagnosis-to-control timeline to nearly 2 years instead of just 1#if not even later#i want this whole system burned to the ground i am so unbelievably done#personal
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Devils Touch | Dad!Lucifer x Kid!Reader |
Summary: Being forced to take pills alongside your mother just seems enough to end in hell...
Warnings: Suicide mentions | Death | Canon Violence| Cursing | Lucifer its a softie | SFW | Reader its between 5-7 | Reader takes the form of a sheep/cat mix | Reader's mom sucks tbh | Maybe platonic!yandere Luci? |
When you opened your eyes everytning was red. Screams and insults filled the air, the smell of blood and other things you could not understand filled your nose making you gag.
"Mom?" You asked to no one, no one took note of you. All you could see were strange creatures, some more human and some more animal.
Tears went down your face, you could remember being forced to take some pills. Your mother crying while she did the same.
Something was wrong, really wrong.
"And what do we have here?" A stranger voice said taking you by the collar, you ended up meeting with sharp red eyes, and that look....it did not mean well.
"L-let me go" you screamed trying to get free from this thing. Reacting out you saw your hands were now black with claws, making your mind quick you attacked that thing.
It let you go with a small "fuck". You took of running, not knowing where to go, but you could hear that thing behind you chasing you.
Taking a quick look behind you ended against something. Looking up someone wearing a white suit with a cane and a hat that had a snake looked to you.
"P-please help me" you tried again "I dont know whats happening I want my mom"
The stranger took you by your arms to inspect you.
Lucifer stood there with no emotion seeing the "x" on your neck. Suicide? He thought seeing the mark. But you were just a kid, with fluffy cat hears and a tail, however your hair was not the one from a cat but the one from a sheep...or a lamb. Two little horns did also appear on top of your head.
He cursed inside his mind. Maybe you were killed, or forced to something. You were too small, your soul did not let out any type of malice besides the "sin" of taking your own life.
He soon saw a Demon coming towards him, most likely looking for you, and with no debout their intentions were not good.
Just one flick of his hand the Demon was gone. You were shaking looking at him and then around you.
Fuck, he wished Charlie was here, he knew she would be able to calm you down.
Taking care of sinners was not his job. His job was to rule hell, but he could not just leave you in here. He was sure you would be dead again in seconds.
Or worse.
"Calm down Kid, im going to take care of you" his voice was as soft as he could. Turning around opening a gold portal to his home "whats your name?"
He nodded once he hear your name, carefully petting your head. He passed by many old photos of his family. A maid appear besides him looking at the sinner in his arms.
"Please, prepare a bath and get some clothes " Lucifer requested passing you to her.
Or well, trying to.
"N-no, I dont want to go with her!" Your hands took an iron grip on his suit.
Lucifer almost panicked at your state but tried to remember what he used to do when Charlie was this young.
"Listen, she is someone good. You will be taken care off. We can have lunch later, and some sweets"
"...chocolate?" You asked with pleading eyes
~☆~☆~☆~
After your bath and food you were in a better mood. Lucifer used this time to show you around the house while asking you different questions to try and know why you had ended in here.
He showed you his ducks collection and almost passed out by how much you loved them. You ignored him as you played with the duck, almost burning the wall with one of them.
Lucifer decided to tired you up and then look up for your mothers soul. If you two died together...then the chances of her being down here were high.
~☆~☆~☆
It was harder than he expected. The sugar from the chocolate gave you so much energy you ended checking every room of the house. Lucifer behind you trying to stop you from getting hurt or from breaking something.
"Catch me if you can!" You joked while he tried to balance two statues.
With a swing of his wings he was able to catch you, rolling down the stairs and laughtning with you. You seemed....happy almost forgetting your situation. To you this could be nothing but a bizarre dream.
~☆~☆~
Once you were tired enough, Lucifer took you to one room. His heart made a flip when you took his arm pulling him close.
But he needed to go and see where your mother's soul was. So he made the maid stay outside your room just in case you woke up.
~☆~☆~
"That fucking bastard, son of a bitch, cursed slut" Lucifer screamed almost burning his office. Turns out, your mother was not in hell or heaven, she was alive, whatever she was triying to do failed for her.
He wanted to go there and kill her himself. Not only her but heaven as well, you were just a kid. Sure, you had cursed, and lied sometimes, he had read your record of sins. But that was not enough to make you end down here.
He knew your faith was sealed. Heaven would never admit they made a mistake or listen to him for starters. He had to calm down and think.
And after some minutes he decided the safest option would be for you to stay with him. He was not sure how he would explain to you who he was or what had happened. But he knew a few things, besides him no one would try to hurt you, and also you made him feel happy again. He could raise you, be a better father, be someone you could relay on.
"Its decided" he said to himself, picking up a pen and a paper, he wrote down your name and his last name. This way the other sins and overlords would know not to mess with you.
"Dont worry (y/n) im going to protect you.
~☆~☆~
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Office Sleepover 3 - A.H
a/n: yeehaw this took me way longer than i thought but here she be
i feel like im so ass at writing smut so just bear with me yall
masterlist
‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧
part one here! part two here!
pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)
warnings: 18+ MDNI, hungover reader, unwanted attention from some rando, awk as fuck reader, fingering, dirty talk, doing the dirty in the office, definitely illegal, definitely probably caught on cameras
wc: 4.2k
Everything hurt--your stomach churned, your head throbbed, and your eyes burned. You squeezed them shut, feeling your body tense against the stiff fabric of the pull-out couch. Fists curled tightly, you gradually let your eyelids part, casting a slow, sweeping glance around the room, trying to piece together what the hell happened.
Pain hammered around the inside of your head. You desperately needed a hefty dose of Advil--ten at least. As though your mind had materialized them, you rolled over to discover a bottle and a glass of water on the nightstand. You assumed you had JJ to thank, though the certainty of that was as fuzzy as your thoughts. Each effort to reconstruct last night's events was a stab to your already excruciating migraine.
You had all your clothes on, that was a plus considering your notorious history with wine and stripping. Stripping. Your hand slapped over your mouth, a floodgate of recollections bursting through--calling Hotch in a wine-induced haze, flashing your tits, asking him to stay.
You were in full-blown panic mode, the sudden urge to throw up clawing at your throat. The bed was empty, save for yourself, but you vividly remember Hotch laying down with you. This only left two possibilities: he left after you fell asleep or it had been a figment of your imagination. You were desperately hoping it was the latter.
But clearly, the universe had its own plan, because there he was, leaning against the door frame, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag that, by the smell of it, contained greasy food.
With a throat like sandpaper and sweaty palms, you met your boss's gaze. "Hotch," you croaked, pausing to swallow. "Um, good morning--or is it? My sleep schedule's always off after drinking. It feels bright in here, right? It's also kinda hot, is the AC working?"
You impulsively rose from the bed, a decision you instantly regretted as the room seemed to spin around you in protest.
"Sit down," he commanded, a firmness in his voice that brooked no opposition, and you promptly sat your ass back down, watching him with an expectant look.
You attempted to read his face, but it was a blank slate, making you that much more nervous. He must hate you, you figured, because you certainly hated yourself. Your boss had seen your nipples. A wave of heat washed over you, and you clenched your eyes shut, as if that could make this situation disappear.
"Here," he said, handing you the coffee and the bag, then gesturing to the Advil on the counter. "Take that, and I know you might not feel like eating, but it's necessary. The food and coffee will stabilize your blood sugar levels."
"Right, yeah, course," you nod, accepting the items with shaky hands, holding the cup with a grip that's a little too firm. "Listen, sir, I'm really sorry about last night. I promise I don't usually drink that much. I don't even know how I got that drunk, and I know I acted completely inappropriate towards you. If you need to file a complaint, I understand. Again, I'm just so sorry..."
You wanted to cry, but you held it back, knowing it would only make this whole situation worse. You deliberately avoided his eyes, focusing on anything but him while you absentmindedly toyed with the breakfast sandwich in your hands.
After a moment, he releases a soft sigh, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled beside you, his knee gently knocking yours.
"I'm aware this week's been tough on you. It's, uh, clear you weren't thinking straight, and I'm not about to make a formal issue out of a slip-up."
Your head dipped, as you tried to fend off the rising warmth in your face. "I don't think I can ever look you in the eyes again."
"That feels dramatic," he pointed out, a chuckle in his voice that made you glance his way. "Trust me, it's already forgotten."
That was a lie. He may have lacked Reid's eidetic abilities, but there was no possible, imaginative way that he would forget the image of you topless--it was imprinted in his memory. In fact, it had become the sole focus of his thoughts ever since. He silently thanked the gods that it was a Saturday, and he didn't have any pressing work issues.
"Somehow, that's not very comforting," you replied, a suppressed giggle breaking through as you met his gaze. "So, did you, um, end up staying over?"
Your cheeks glowed with a soft pink, hands unconsciously smoothing over your thighs--a nervous habit of yours he had quickly taken notice of. It emerged involuntarily when you faced tough cases, or when your computer took too long to start up, or even when the elevator made an unexpected noise.
"I did," he admitted, "You shouldn't have been alone."
Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were weirdly frustrated that you couldn't recall being the same bed as him, being able to feel his body against yours. You bet he was warm, and soft, and large against you.
"Thank you."
His phone went off. "Hotchner."
Your eyes followed his movements, noting the firm nods, watching as he stood, his expression hardening, jaw tightening, and hand coming to rest on his chin as he faced away from you.
The phone call was brief, and he quickly turned his attention back to you. "We've got a case."
And it was quite the case--three male victims, all in their forties. Each crime scene was close to Quantico, about twenty minutes, sparing the team any extensive travel. Though, after last night, you don't think you would have minded if they had been halfway across the country.
You were really banking on Hotch's ability to keep things professional, knowing full well that if Morgan caught wind of this, you'd be better off dead.
The team was huddled around the briefing table, absorbing Garcia's detailed rundown of the killings--they were violent to say the least--with heads bashed in and over twenty stab wounds per victim. Whoever was doing this was angry.
Hotch eventually split everyone up into tasks—Spencer and Morgan to the crime scenes, JJ and Emily interviewing the families, and Rossi was tasked with convening with the local police force. So, you know who that left at the office? You, Hotch, and Penelope. What a great group.
You avoided both of them, a pattern that had become all too familiar you had realized. Hunched over your desk, you were engrossed in sending Spencer images of your latest research on the town. True to form, he responded--Can you just fax that over to the police station?--because god forbid, he has to read it from his phone.
So, there you were, barely resisting the urge to slam your head into the fax machine. You wouldn't consider yourself technology impaired, but to say you were on friendly terms would be overstating it.
"Need help?"
"Oh, yes, please—," you began, but your voice trailed off as you noticed one of the guys from forensics hovering just a tad too close for comfort.
"They're always a bit stubborn," he noted, barely giving you space to breathe before his shoulder nudged against yours as he fiddled with the device, "just a slight...there we go."
The machine sprang into action, prompting you to step back and acknowledge his help with a nod. "Oh, thanks."
"Not a problem," he assured, stepping closer in the process, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he pointed out the correct button. "You see, it's all about timing," he added, his voice low and unnecessarily close, "these things can be so fussy, right?"
A subtle nod was your only response, hoping he'd take the hint that you weren't in the mood for small talk. The hangover clung stubbornly, and the whiff of his breath was a cruel taunt against the fragile peace you were maintaining over your stomach.
"So, do you find this kind of tech stuff challenging?" he asked, a little too casually. The question hung awkwardly in the air. You sought to put some distance between you, yet he matched your every move, keeping the space closed. "I mean, I'm pretty good with my hands, not just with machines honestly."
Ew.
You mustered a smile, though you were sure it was more of a grimace. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. "I usually manage," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.
He leaned closer, if that was possible, it was like the concept of personal space was foreign to him. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks, help you manage a little better?"
His words were light, but his proximity was anything but, almost suffocating.
Just as you were firmly about to tell him to shove it, a sharp voice beat you to it--probably for the best.
"That won't be necessary."
The forensics guy, whose name you still hadn't gotten, straightened, his smile faltering under the weight of Hotch's piercing, don't fuck with me, stare. A look usually saved for unsubs and incompetent officers, but now it singled out this man.
The same look remained on the poor guy as he directed his words to you, "why don't you join me? We need to go over some case details."
It really wasn't a question.
The man backed up instantly, mumbling something under his breath about just trying to help, but Hotch's glare followed him until he was well out of earshot.
Surprisingly, a similar sharpness was aimed at you as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'd appreciate it if you chose to flirt on your own time, not the Bureau's."
His words landed with the sting of an unexpected slap. You blinked, taken aback. "What? I wasn't--,"
But he didn't allow you time to finish. Instead, he pushed a water bottle in your hands, his eyes scrutinizing your face with such an intensity that you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Drink. You look pale."
"Gee, thanks," you grumbled, under your breath, more to yourself than him, as he wheeled around and headed briskly for the briefing room.
Your steps lagged slightly behind him, your forehead lined with a thoughtful frown. What was that about? The way he acted--the tightness that had formed around his mouth and the harshness in his words, it was so unlike him, well, at least for it to be directed at you.
The rest of the day unfolded just as you thought it would upon waking--like shit. Hotch kept his distance, his exchanges with you brief and to the point. Every time you tried to grab his attention, hoping to clarify things (why you felt the need you weren't sure), he was already looking else, focused on literally anything but you.
It was painfully evident that he was avoiding any personal conversation with you, a realization that bit deeper than anticipated.
The office slowly emptied, the case binding you and Hotch to the briefing room, the only sounds being the faint gentle tapping of your pen and the occasional snap of your hair tie.
It was late when you finally spoke. "Hotch, this says the victim had fibers under his nails that don't match anything from the suspect's home."
Hotch's gaze snapped up to yours. "Are you saying you think the forensics team missed that?"
You met his eyes squarely, cocking your head to the side at the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just pointing something out."
He bridged the space between you, his jaw set in a firm line. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks as the distance dwindled.
"I'm just saying I don't want you jumping to conclusions based on underdeveloped theories."
You met his eyes with a glare, your teeth grinding together in the process. "Underdeveloped? Is that how you see my contributions now?"
The space between you had now vanished, your heart racing, finger almost poking into his chest as you spoke.
Hotch settled back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, giving you a pointed look. "I didn't say that," he replied, his voice level, markedly different from your agitated one. "We just can't afford to investigate every insignificant detail."
"Every insignificant detail?" you scoffed, "these are leads, Hotch."
His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that made you want to wrap your hands around his throat, and not in the good way. "Maybe. However, we need to be sure before we pursue it."
Drawing in a controlled breath, you fought to stay calm, but he was making it very hard. The sensation was all too reminiscent of college, contending with the overconfident frat boys just to voice your thoughts. That comparison may have been a tad extreme--Hotch was far from being like those insufferable boys, but he was certainly pushing your limits right now.
"I am sure. Why aren't you listening."
"I am listening," he said, but his voice was distant. "I just... I just don't want to get sidetracked, that's all."
"Sidetracked? By what, exactly?"
"I'm just not sure you're all here right now."
You felt your cheeks warming with a tinge of shame, but you pushed back, fists clenched at your sides. "I'm here, Hotch. I'm focused."
"Because last night—,"
"Last night was a mistake, okay? I got it. I already apologized for that. But I'm not irresponsible, my focus is on this case."
A lengthy pause followed, his expression unreadable. "You're certain about that?"
"Yes, I'm certain," you snapped, moving towards him again. "And for the record, JJ said you were okay with us having a few drinks."
"I was," he admitted. "But I didn't think—,"
You didn't let him finish. "What, that I'd get wasted? That I'd do something stupid? I'm sorry I'm not perfect."
"Well, yeah."
"Screw you, Hotch."
You knew that was a mistake the minute his nostrils flared, his chest now a pressing force against yours.
Then, without warning, his lips crashed into yours. A muffled oomph of surprise left you, your hands hanging motionless at first, only to quickly melt, grasping at his jacket, pulling him into you.
It wasn't a gentle kiss, nor was it kind, but it was magic, exceeding anything you could have imagined, setting every fiber of you on fire. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that drew out a breathy sigh, arousal tingling through you, and your passion rose to meet his, equally hungry, equally desperate.
Your fantasies had never done him justice--kissing him was intoxicating, and now you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, realizing it was everything you never dared to hope for.
Drawing back just enough, his hands drew you closer, pressing against the dip of your back, his breath fusing with yours in a dizzying blend, making the air seem scarce.
Against the soft pressure of his lips, you murmured, "I wasn't flirting."
There's a pause as his eyes locked on yours, searching, questioning. Then, his hand settled at the side of your neck. "You better not have been."
Any witty comeback you had dissipated as his lips crashed against yours again, more urgently this time, his hands tracing every contour of your clothed body with an insatiable curiosity.
His grip tightened around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the briefing table's cold surface with a resounding thud, his palms then cradling your thighs. Documents and files fluttered beneath you, hopefully they weren't too important. His eyes, dark pools of brown, were meticulously scanning your face.
"You," he breathes out, his voice a low rumble laced with something you couldn't quite place, "have consumed my thoughts since the moment I discovered you on my couch." He inches closer, his breath scorching your cheek as his fingers waltzed a pattern up your thighs. "Do you understand that feeling? The intense frustration?"
You were rendered motionless, frozen in place, scared to even twitch and risk this all being a very realistic wet dream. This was Hotch, your boss, the man defined by his lack of outward emotion. To think that you--of all people--could have an effect on him was an overwhelming concept. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as he gently guided your legs apart, positioning himself between them.
"Y-Yeah, I know," you uttered unevenly, your thoughts scattering as your hands tentatively reached for his collar.
"So, you know what it's like, huh?"
Your nod was subtle, a flustered smile briefly lighting up your expressions.
"And?" he prompts, while his fingers explore the shape of your thighs, squeezing gently.
You squirm under his gaze, the intensity of it making your heart race inside your chest.
"And... it's annoying," you confess, puffing out a breath, trying sound annoyed, but the delicate blush dusting your nose gave you away, you were sure.
"Annoying?" Hotch repeats, his hand tenderly angling your face upward, his smile laced with a taunt. "Is that all?"
You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's distracting," your voice was softer now, desire pooling in your belly as you grasp just how compromising of a position you were in.
"Distracting," he tsked, echoing you once again as he nodded solemnly, pulling your hips into his. Your mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Have I been the subject of your thoughts, then?"
Your head dipped in a nod, your fingers brushing against his firm chest, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Maybe a little, in a totally platonic boss-employee type of way."
"Oh yeah?"
You caught your lip between your teeth, considering your next words very carefully. "Well, maybe more than a little, and maybe more than just a boss."
"Oh, wow," his breath was a warm hover over your lips, hanging in the space between you. You ached for the tase of him again, rich with dark expresso and spiced cinnamon. It was a lovely combination. "Sounds serious."
You released a hushed giggle, a light note floating between you as your foreheads met. "It's not like I can help it."
"And why is that?"
"Because," you paused, wetting your lips in anticipation, "you're infuriatingly unforgettable, that's why."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You would."
He was kissing you again. This time a little softer, unhurried, and the whole reason for your argument faded into nothingness. Although if insubordination led to this sweet consequence, it might just become a habit.
His lips traced a path down your throat, prompting your head to tilt back, baring the expanse of your skin to his exploration. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close. The world seemed distant, the sensation dreamlike, buoyed by the soft lull of a lust-induced haze.
Reason gave way to impulse; your hands lost in the softness of his hair, your back arching to his hands grasping at your ass, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.
His hands hesitated, hovering as he reached for your top, his eyes holding yours. "Is this okay?"
You nodded, more eagerly than necessary, but that still wasn't good enough for him.
"I need a verbal yes or no."
Desperation clung to you, a needy sigh escaping you as you squirmed into his touch, his hands halting your restless movements. "Yes, please, Hotch."
"You were so eager to call me Aaron last night. Say it again."
"Aaron, please, I need you to touch me," your voice rang out, imbued with such sweetness making his length constrict against the fabric of his slacks.
His fingers deftly navigated to the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head with a fluid motion. Your bra was next, its clasp yielding effortlessly to his touch, your tits releasing with a gentle bounce, and he fought back a groan as his large hands enveloped them.
"Every bit as perfect as I remembered," he said, his fingers skillfully pulling and twisting at the nubs as you brought you forehead to meet his, a breathy gasp tumbling from your lips at the contact.
You arched your back into his heads as he let out a soft chuckle, loving the way your body reacting to him. Your eyes held a glazed-over look, lips parted ever so slightly, and you looked up at him expectantly in way that could surely kill him.
His hands moved slowly down your sides before brushing the sensitive skin under your waist band. You swallowed a gasp, moving your hips into his again, rolling yourself against his stiff erection.
His palms pressed against your hips. "Slow down. Let me take my time with you, yeah?"
You were at his discretion; he could ask you to jump into oncoming traffic right now and you'd probably say yes.
A nod was all you could manage as you fought the urge to move, every muscle tensed, waiting for him to make the first move, but god was it hard. You couldn't really believe this was happening, until the solid press of his thumb against your clit brought the moment into sharp focus.
"Aaron, god," you gasped, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your teeth found your bottom lip harshly, trying not to show him just how easily you could come apart right now.
"Is that good, honey?"
Honey. You could practically feel the arousal dripping your thighs as you nodded eagerly.
The pad of his thumb glided between your folds, gathering the slickness to continue his assault against your swollen clit. You buried your face deeper into his suit jacket, attempting to stifle the embarrassing sounds that you couldn't seem to contain.
A whine of protest filled the space between you as his hand slipped away from your pants. His eyes bore into you as he gathered the strands at the back of your neck, guiding your gaze to yours.
"None of that. Let me hear you gorgeous."
"Aaron, please, I need your fingers inside me, please."
You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you sounded, knew that if anyone else was in the office right now, you'd be so screwed, fired probably, but as his fingers dipped into your cunt those concerns dissolved quickly.
"Since you asked so nicely."
He was torturing you--his pace aggravatingly slow, working in and out of you as you tried to fight the overwhelming desire to slam your legs shut. It was so much, yet not enough. You ground yourself against his hands as his other hand clamped around your back, keeping you from falling back.
"That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers."
His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in a way that only seemed to spur you on, doing exactly as he ordered. His words felt foreign in your ears, before today you could never imagine him talking like this, so vulgarly.
"Aaron, I-I need—," you paused, your eyes falling to his pants, more specifically the hardened cock inside them.
"Yeah? Is that what you want?"
"Yes, fuck, please," you gasped as his fingers hit that one spot just right. Your head lolled back as you clutched at his collar, his arm behind you keeping you in place.
"Watch your mouth," he said, and for some reason that was enough to send you right over that never ending ledge, your stomach coiling, heat spreading under your skin, every part of you ached.
"Oh—, Aaron, I-I'm—," you were a blubbering mess, rocking without mercy against his fingers, his thumb brushing against your nub in a way that made you feel like you had met your maker.
"That's it, baby, go ahead."
That was enough for you, your walls clenching around his fingers, back arching into him and you swore for a minute you could see stars. He helped you ride out your high.
You were wholeheartedly convinced; this was heaven. You had died and gone to heaven and the first one to greet you was Hotch, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin in an attempt to bring you back down to Earth.
Just as you were about to reach for his pants, determined to feel him inside of you, his phone went off. Of fucking course. He shot you an apologetic look, the sound a wake-up call, pulling you both from the lust-fueled moment.
He moved back with a couple steps, offering nods and muted words to whoever was calling at 12 am. You were suddenly extremely aware of your appearance--topless and on the briefing table for crying out loud.
You attempted to stand, your legs betraying you with a wobble that had him instantly clasping your arm firmly, his attention flickering from the phone to the tremors in your stance. You gave him a small in return as if to say I'm fine.
You reached across the table, grabbing your shirt from its discarded state, not bothering with the bra as you dressed quickly. He cleared his throat, causing you to turn, just in time to see his phone disappear into his pocket.
"That was the Stafford police chief, there was another murder," he explained.
"Oh, right, okay, um..." you started, your brain racing into overdrive as you instinctively moved towards the door. "I just need to..."
Your movement was too quick, a dizzying spin that resulted in you tumbling into Hotch's solid frame. His reflexes were immediate, hands clasping onto you once again, preventing you from landing straight into him.
"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" he asked, brows knitting in a frown, "take a second."
"Yeah, um, yeah, I'm good," you managed to get out, even as heat suffused your face. "Just need to get changed, uh, can't imagine either of us want to the team to find me like this."
"Right."
He was still frowning, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss away the harsh lines of his forehead, but you were sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture.
You made a beeline for your office, the door's thud barely registering over pulsating rush in your ears. God, you were so screwed.
taglist: @chronicallybubbly @aremuslupinsimp @sky2nd @thisisdaisytrying @ryswritingrecord
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem reader#hotch#hotchner#ssa hotchner#aaron hotchner x bau reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fluff#Spotify
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oooh okay but what if the guys find Darling right before she’s about to give birth?? She took off after the confrontation and just never went back, and they gave her space hoping she’d come back. So then they were actively looking for her and finally found her? What’s one of the ways that could go down? Sorry I’m sure your ask box is absolutely full of asks about the baby trap au and other things but this idea struck me and I had to get it down 😩
👀 these little stories have completely consumed my brain.
🩵🩵🩵
18+ / baby trap AU / mature/dark themes
Deep breath.
Just breathe.
You can do this, you can do this. It happens all the time. You’re not the first person on earth to have a baby, for Christ’s sake.
Your feet step one in front of the other in a pattern down the hall, to the kitchen and then back to your bedroom, over and over while you try to stretch your back. It’s been almost forty minutes since your last contraction, and your muscles are sore, everything from your fingers to toes cramps.
It’s way too soon to go to the hospital.
But it’s not way too soon to be really uncomfortable, and nervous, and kind of freaking out, which you currently are.
You’re unprepared, even though you’re not sure there’s anything more you could do. You have the nursery set up, to the best of your ability. You even painted her room a soothing sage green color, and got all her clothes put away. You baby proofed everything. You have bottles, and formula, and nappies. Blankets and a boppy, even some pacifiers. On the outside, it looks like you and your little flat are totally ready.
But the reality, or at least how it feels, is the opposite. You don’t think you’re ready. You’re not even sure you can do this, if you’re being honest. You don’t know if you can be a mum, if you can take care of a baby, a defenseless little human who will need you for everything.
You struggled to take care of yourself half the time.
Your muscles tense, slow building pain splintering across your lower belly and you blink away some tears that threaten to form. It’s not just the pain… it’s everything.
You’re alone. You’re alone, after the two people you loved more than anything did the worst thing in the world to you. After they took your choice away. After they ruined everything, betrayed your trust, hurt you beyond repair.
Even worse was… you missed them. You hated them for it. Hated yourself for it. Everything felt so complicated, so fucked up. You were so angry, so heartbroken and still… couldn’t stop yourself from mourning their absence. Couldn’t stop from thinking about them at every doctor’s appt, every night when you closed your eyes to sleep.
You couldn’t even think about what was going to happen… after.
It was torture. It was hell.
It was affecting your health.
You had long been on restriction, light duty, almost mandated to bed rest. You had trouble eating, trouble sleeping, trouble with your blood sugar. It was exhausting.
Bee moves, not kicking but something else, a ripple pinging across your belly and you rub there soothingly.
“I know, I know.” You murmur, eyes wandering to your bed. Laying down sounds really good right now.
When you wake one hour later, it’s to pain. More intense, more sharp, lingering in the muscles of your back and thighs. It’s clearly a contraction, much more intense, and nausea rises in the back of your throat.
Fuck. That hurts.
You bite your tongue, heaving yourself out of bed as the pain fades, leaving you a little breathless while you waddle to the closet.
Maybe you could take a bath, or try to walk some more.
Just as you’re about to turn the tap on your tub, you hear a noise, a knocking on your door. That’s odd. You hadn’t ordered anything, food or packages. And you definitely weren’t expecting anyone either. Your stomach does a somersault, and you approach the door hesitantly, standing on the other side, staring at it blankly.
Without even checking the peep hole, you know who it is on the other side. You don’t need to look.
You always knew this would happen. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that sometimes, in the middle of the night, you didn’t dream about this. Even though it was wrong. Even if it meant you were weak. Stupid. Foolish.
You take a deep breath, and pull the handle.
Johnny’s holding his breath when the door creaks open. He doesn’t know what to expect, he just prays to nothing that it’s you on the other side. That after months of trying to track you down, they’ve finally got it right. He just hopes that you’ll give them a chance, that you’ll listen to them for even a second, so they can get down on their knees and tell you how sorry they are. So they can tell you they love you. So they can beg you to come home.
You peek around the door, just barely, enough for them to catch a good glimpse of your face.
He feels like he’s gotten the wind knocked out him. It’s been so long since they’ve seen you, too long, and you’re so pretty, so perfect he has to squeeze his hands into fists to try to calm his racing heart.
“Hi.” You keep the door more than half shut, and he swallows dry.
“Darling.”
“What’re you guys doing here.” You don’t phrase it as a question, and your voice is flat. Unenthused.
“We wanted to see you.” Simon starts. “We… wanted to check on you. See if you need anything. If you’re okay.” You give him a grim smile, and shake your head.
“Let’s not pretend.” You shoot back, and Johnny feels his heart wilt.
“We’re not pretending, love. We’ve been so worried. We’re so, so sorry. I cannae start to explain, how sorry we are. We did something awful. We-“
“I don’t want to hear it.” The door moves, just a little bit wider, and reveals more of your body, swollen belly, heavy on your frame. You look tired, like you haven’t been sleeping.
Johnny wants to break down. He wants to cry, if he’s being honest. He failed you. They failed you. They were supposed to love you, protect you, care for you. Instead… they allowed their twisted, selfish desires to influence their decisions.
He can’t imagine how this has been for you. Pregnancies were difficult for anyone as is, and you weren’t just anyone. You never have been.
“Can we come in?” Simon tries, voice soft. His eyes haven’t left your frame, taking in everything he’s seeing, Johnny’s sure. Coming to the same conclusion.
“No.” You bite out. “I don’t want you here.” He’s about to start begging, start pleading with you, but you make a face, brows pushing together, mouth screwing up like you’re in pain and his blood runs cold.
“Darling?”
“It’s nothing.” You breathe, but your hand cradles your belly, and your eyes are closed, face still screwed up in discomfort. “You should leave.” Not bloody likely.
“You’re in pain.” Simon summarizes the obvious, and you shake your head.
“I’m fine. I just uh- am having some cramps.” Cramps? He knows you’re pretty far along, by the math. Worry prickles along his spine.
“Cramps?” He takes half a step, not even. It’s enough to startle you, make you draw back, door jerking in your fist, closing it to only a crack, and he holds a hand out, cautiously. “Darling. Hey, it’s alright.”
“Go away.” You spit, but the words are choked out halfway, and they sound rough. Like you’re in pain. He tries to count, in his head. How far along you are, how close to a due date you might be.
“What’s going on?” Simon tries, and they can just barely see your palm press over your mouth. Johnny’s heart is galloping in his chest now, scared. Panicked. You’re in pain. You’re in real pain, and you won’t talk to them. Won’t let them in.
He’s about to ask you if it’s more than cramps, if you need help, or a doctor. But he doesn’t get the chance.
The door slams in their faces.
#peaches asks#peaches writes#tw pregnancy#ghost x soap x reader#soap x reader x ghost#pregnant reader#baby trap au
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I'm Sorry.
Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader
Summary: You work with your childhood friend Carmen. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but you love it. Your memories torment you as you sleep, but when you get shot. you finally get some peaceful rest.
TW: guns, gunshots, blood, gunshot wounds, avoidance, fluff.
Word Count: 2062
NOT PROOFREAD!!
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Screaming
So much blood
I’m screaming but no one is coming to help
He’s dead
Mikeys dead right in front of me
I couldn’t save him
*My eyes snap open*
Stupid fucking nightmares, I can never fucking catch a break ever since Mikeys death. It feels like I keep failing him in my dreams over and over again. I can never get there in time. When I happened to bump into Mikey in a bar on my 21st birthday, I never would’ve imagined he’d be my best friend. I also would’ve never guessed that he would break my heart worse than any man ever could. The images of him lying….. there flash behind my eyes over and over again as I get ready for a long day at The Beef. The images flash as I drive and get inside, but as soon as I step inside and smell the familiarity, I’m ok. I open my locker and start slowly getting ready in silence, I’m not usually early but I just couldn’t be at home any longer. “Hey” I hear a familiar voice behind me, yet I still jump “Hey Carm” my voice comes out soft and shaky. “Why are you here so early?” concern and confusion lace his voice “Woke up earlier than usual, didn’t see a reason not to” I don’t know why I decided to lie to him, out of all people Carmen can see right through me.
“Don’t lie to me chef, please” he tries to convey his concern in his eyes, but I can’t look at him or I will spill all of my secrets. “My nightmares are back, I uh- I don’t exactly know how to deal with it, it’s not a big deal Carm I promise” I avoid eye contact and put my kitchen shoes on “You don’t have to hide from me you know, I’m not a stranger” he whispers with an undertone of hurt. “I know Carm I’m just- sad and confused and mad I- I don’t understand it” my eyes are glued to my feet “I know what you mean, I get them too, if you’d ever like to talk” he puts his hand on my shoulder and my eyes snap up to his. “Uh yeah of course, thank you, same goes for you” I feel my face heat up the longer I stare at him. Our eyes stay connected. “YO FAK! THE HELL WAS THAT FOR MAN!?” Richie yelling made Carmy and I both jump away from each other clearing our throats “I’m uh going to go start uhm” “Yeah I’ll meet you out there” “Great”” “Yup”. I quickly shake off the butterflies that have formed, why do I feel this with Carmen? I shake my head and throw on my apron and getting to work. My mind wanders as my hands are busy at work “They are going after my fucking house Carmen!!” I hear Sugar yelling, why is she here and whose going after her house? My nosey ass slows down and tries to listen when I hear her yelling for me, great. I walk out to the back where Sugar and Carmen stand “yes, hello, hi, why are we yelling” I say trying to keep everyone as calm as possible “Do you happen to know where Mikey left the tax forms” Sugar says crossing her arms with an expectant stare on her face “I’m so sorry but why would I know that” I say with a confused look, my eyes shifting to Carmys, he looked just as lost. “BECAUSE! Mikey told you everything!” Sugar yells getting more frustrated “Ok, ok please breathe, yes he did tell me MOST things but this he did not, I’m sorry lovie” I sympathize with you, putting a hand on her arm as she sighs and nods “We’ll figure it out okay” Carmen says trying to help. “Why don’t we start by looking in the office yeah?” I suggest calmly as I guide Sugar inside, shooting Carmy a look that tells him to not upset her or I’ll kick his ass. After about 45 minutes of endlessly sorting through papers and Sugar yelling Fuck You at about every single piece of paper I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes “Why the hell would he organize like this?” Sugar says annoyed that we still haven’t found anything of use “I don’t know. I’ll ask him when he’s not dead” Carmen replies so casually, my eyes snap open and I clear my throat “Ok I need a break” I say as I stand up and stretch before leaving the tiny, cramped office and joining Syd and Richie at the front.
I didn’t pay attention to what they were saying though I did catch Richie saying something about a bar closing. How could Carmen say something like that so casually, how could he act as if something super traumatizing hadn’t happened, how could he-. White blinding hot pain shoots through the left side of my body “SHIT GET DOWN!” I hear Richie yell yet his voice is muffled, I freeze. “Shit is everyone ok?!” Carmen yells out as I stand there in shock, I finally look down and just see blood “Carm-” my voice cuts out as the pain comes back full force and I start to collapse “OH FUCK!” I hear Carmen yell before everything goes black.
His images flash behind my eyes
He talks to me.
Laughs at me
I couldn’t even save myself
*My eyes flutter open to the blinding white light of a hospital room*
My vision is fuzzy as I look around, not able to focus on anything so I close my eyes again as I shift, wincing as my side hurts “Hey sweetheart” I hear Sugar softly say beside me. My eyes flick over to a semi blurry figure in the room “Hi” my voice is soft and gritty, my throat dry, Sugar gets a cup of water and hands it to me, I take it thankfully and down the whole cup.
“What the hell happened, where’s Carmen, is everyone ok?” I spit out all the questions running circles in my head “Hey, hey slow down okay, some rando shot at the place, we don’t know who it was but Richie is working on it. Everyone is completely fine, you were the only one who got hurt” she calmly states. “What about Carm?” my voice gets more concerned as she avoids eye contact with me “He’s uh, still at the restaurant, he was a mess one second freaking about your blood all over his hands and then the next…. he was back to work”. I squeeze my eyes shut, my blood boiling, of course Carmy would avoid that “I’m going to step out ang get some food and text everyone and let them know you're okay, need anything?” she says sympathetically “No. no I’m ok. Thank you” she nods and quickly leaves the room, leaving me with my thoughts.
I slowly sit up trying to find my phone, I spot it in a bag of my bloody clothes across the room. I slowly get up, wincing as I move, I drag my IV with me across the room to the bag. I quickly open the bag and grab my phone, grossed out at all the blood “Jesus Christ” I grab a tissue and wipe my phone down. “What are you doing up?!” I hear a panicked Sugar behind me “I needed my phone, I need to talk to Carm in person though I need him to see that I’m ok Sugar, help me get dressed in some clean clothes, no one will notice I’m gone” I rant out fast and panicked. “No. Absolutely not. We need you getting better and not worse do you understand me. You can call him” Sugar sounds very serious which is very off putting, so I pout “Fine. Can you step out while I call him, please” I ask as she helps me slowly back into the bed, she nods and steps out, wishing me luck.
I stare at Carmens contact name for a while before finally hitting the call button.
It rings.
Rings.
Rings.
Rings~
“Hello?” he sounds very apprehensive.
“You weren’t here.” I snap a bit.
“What?”
“You weren’t here when I woke up Carm. The one person I wanted to see.”
Silence
“Look I’m sorry okay I just, I couldn’t see you like that okay” he sounds stressed.
“What if something had happened Carm? What if I had needed you”?
“Don’t talk like that. Plus, you don’t need me.”
“I actually need you more than anyone else” I snap, tears burning in my eyes.
Silence
“I’ll be there soon.”
He hangs up.
I sit there staring at my phone, the fucker just hung up on me. Sugar comes back in and talks to me while I wait for Carmen. As soon as he arrives, she takes her leave wishing me luck.
He avoids my eyes as he stands next to my bed, I cross my arms and stare at him “Carmy, what’s wrong, talk to me” “It’s my fault” I barely catch it he says it so soft “Oh fuck off Carmen it’s not-” “I had a panic attack, that’s why I wasn’t here”. My mouth snaps shut as guilt starts to creep up on me “Carm-” “I can’t- I can’t lose you too. Not after-” his eyes stay locked on his feet, but he slowly starts to rub his hand on his chest. Fuck. “Hey I’m right here Carm. Look at me please” I reach my hand out and rub his arm, his eyes snap up to mine and I see the tears “Oh Carm” I move hand up to cup his cheek and rub my thumb across his cheek. He slowly brings his forehead down to mine “I’m not good. We’ve been over this. I’m bad for you. I’m not good at anything that’s not cooking, I’m especially not good at relationships” Carmen starts to rant “We were freshly 18 and 19 when we had that conversation Carm, we’re different people now” I whisper as I stare into your eyes. “You know how I feel Carm. I’ve never kept it a secret, even when we were kids” I laugh as he starts to smile “No you were definitely not subtle” I shake my head.
Silence followed as we basked in the others presence “Can I kiss you?” his question shocks me, I nod “Words sweetheart” “Yes Carmen, you can kiss me, I might pass out if you don’t-” he cuts me off by deeply kissing me, I lose myself in the kiss, tangling my fingers in the curls at the base of his neck. He pulls back slowly “We’ll work on your kissing” “Oh fuck off” he pulls me back into another kiss, I pull back “I’ll be back and better in no time, I guess this gives me some time to think about some new things for The Bear” he gently rubs my cheek as I talk “I’ll be here every step of the way ok” “Yeah you better be” we both laugh.
“Will you be my-” I quickly put my finger over his lips “Nuh uh. You better not be asking me to be your girlfriend in a hospital room” I shake my head with a dead serious face “Okay. Message received loud and clear” I laugh and shake my head before pulling him back into a kiss.
That night, cuddled up to Carmen, was the first night I had no nightmares in months.
Yeah. Everything's going to be ok.
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Leave suggestions if you have any!! <3
DO NOT STEAL OR COPY MY WORK ANYWHERE!
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear x reader#the bear#the bear fic#the bear fanfiction#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x you
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Content: self-punishment/injury, conditioned whumpee, trauma
Whumpee got up before dawn to prepare breakfast. For so long now, it had been their routine, something they'd gotten used to doing no matter their condition, no matter the amount of pain or exhaustion weighing them down. Coffee with two sugars, and three fried eggs, would have to be ready to be served precisely at 6, and Whumpee would carry them to Whumper's room where he would still be sleeping, wake him up, and stand there, head bowed, wait until he finished his meal and then take the dirty dishes to the sink.
The few times Whumpee had missed the 6 am mark, even by a couple of minutes, hadn't ended well. Whumpee ran their fingers over the scars they'd received for those mistakes, wide and raised under their shirt, as they waited for the food to cook. They kept glancing at the clock, anxiously, shivering at the thought of being late, but they also couldn't hurry too much because the punishment for undercooked eggs would be just as cruel.
At 5:58, Whumpee had everything set up, and taking the plate and the large mug of coffee in their hands, they started to head toward the stairs, moving slowly for their aching body. Whumpee had become really good at counting in their head, so they knew they were right on time, as they balanced the mug on the plate for a second to knock on Whumper's door.
They pushed the door open, flicked on the lights - so much brighter than Whumpee remembered... He hadn't changed the lightbulb, so had Whumper had to do it himself? How come hadn't he told Whumpee to do it? - and went next to his bed.
"Your breakfast, sir," they said, trying to sound chipper but gentle, humble and happy to be there. "Good morning, sir," they added quickly after, almost having forgotten the proper way of greeting. What has wrong with them today?
Whumper, usually waking up to their voice and demanding to have the food immediately, just pulled the duvet to his chin, face deep buried into pillows. He grunted something inaudible, and Whumpee was left standing there, unsure what to do.
"S-sir? It's morning, sir, time to rise. Are you feeling ill?"
"Shut up," Whumper growled, and his voice was odd, but Whumpee pressed their lips together tightly, afraid to make a sound. "What the fuck are you doing, it's so damn early..."
The plate and the mug were shaking in Whumpee's hands as they began to breathe heavily, panicking. They'd been on time, but they'd made a mistake. They'd made some kind of mistake. Whumper was upset, and oh, when he'd wake up, hell was awaiting for them...
"Please," Whumpee whispered. "I- I'm so sorry. So sorry, sir..."
After a few mess-ups, Whumper had introduced Whumpee to an alternative option when it came to punishments of slipping off schedule or not completing their tasks just as Whumper had told them to. Quicker, easier, and for Whumper, even more fun than getting to carve marks on Whumpee's skin.
He'd love to watch Whumpee be humiliated.
"I don't want to waste my time on you when I have better things to do," Whumper had once said. "Make it simpler for the both of us. You know when you mess up. Why not get the consequenses out of the way? Use whatever's available, as long as you clean up the blood."
Whumper was still under the covers, perhaps falling back to sleep. Whumpee was still confused by the situation, but it seemed like he should've somehow known to not bother him this morning, oh no, they'd done gravely wrong, and there was only two ways out...
And they'd made their choice which route to take.
Whumpee set the plate on the nightstand, and closed their eyes, when with trembling hands, they took the mug of still steaming coffee above their head and spilled it all over themselves. Even as cried out in agony, they kept reminding themselves whatever Whumper would have done to them would've been worse, and with any luck, this would be enough.
Whumper was once again woken up by Whumpee's cries, and bolted up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted. Whumpee felt a sting in their heart. Of course they'd want to watch. Why would they miss the show? Maybe they'd be unsatisfied with their pain and make Whumpee throw themselves down the stairs for good measure.
Whumper cursed loudly and grabbed Whumpee's arm, pulling them out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. He shoved Whumpee under the shower and turned it on, turning the temperature cold. He squeezed Whumpee's arms, shaking them lightly.
"Oh god, Whumpee, why would you do that? What were you thinking?"
Whumpee coughed, the water getting into their mouth. They shivered, from cold and from fear.
Another mistake.
Nothing made sense.
Why was whumper helping him? What was all of this?
Whumpee tried to pry themselves away from Whumper's grip and out of the shower, but Whumper held them still.
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry -"
"Wait," he said, sounding concerned rather than angry now. "Oh shit, Whumpee, no, stop that. Look at me. I'm not him."
Whumpee did as they were told and raised their gaze to meet the eyes they expected to be gray and cruel, and was shocked to see hazel, and nothing but kindness.
"I'm not him," he repeated, and Whumpee blinked a few times, letting their eyes take in the rest of the person's face. "Everything is okay. You're home, remember? Safe."
The person had dark circles under their eyes. They had a friendly face, although right now, they wore a worried expression. Whumpee wiped water from their face to see better... their eyes must've been lying to them...
"I..." Whumpee begun, stammering. "S-sorry... I should've let you sleep... I didn't know... I'm sorry..."
"Whumpee, shh." The person reached to turn off the shower and then let go of them to grab a large, thick towel they spread on Whumpee's shoulders. "Don't, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise it was you. You shouldn't even be walking! I thought it was Teammate just annoying me, I was barely awake, I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."
Whumpee pulled the towel around them, turning their head to look around. They knew this bathroom. They'd been patched up here many times before, years earlier. It was Caretaker's.
They looked at the person in front of them. They knew them. It was coming to them slowly, but they knew them better than anyone.
"Caretaker?"
They smiled. "Yeah. It's me. It's okay. You've been home for a few days now, remember?"
"I... guess."
Caretaker helped Whumpee out of their wet clothes and let them shower privately, washing the coffee off their hair and ease the pain in the burns on their scalp, their face, their shoulders.
When whumpee was ready, they opened the door to let Caretaker in once again. Caretaker sat them down on a little stool and started to treat their injuries, talking in a calming matter throughout the process. Whumpee was still feeling lost, his brain struggling to understand what was real and what was not.
"I'm still so sorry, Whumpee," Caretaker said, spreading something soothing over his burns. "I never should've allowed things to go so far that you'd do this to yourself."
"I didn't want you to hurt me," Whumpee said quietly. Caretaker stilled for a second, then continued rubbing the lotion on Whumpee's skin. Whumpee bit their cheeks. Caretaker, and everybody else, didn't know much about what he'd been through with Whumper. They hadn't had many opportunities to talk that much yet.
"I would never do that." Caretaker leaned in and pressed an unexpected kiss on Whumpee's forehead. Whumpee blushed, though they were grateful it probably was hidden by their already reddened face. No one had done that for... Whumpee didn't even know how long. "No one will ever hurt you here. And you never have to hurt yourself, okay?"
Whumpee wished they could keep that promise. But who was to say what happened this morning wouldn't happen again?
"Yeah," they said. Caretaker's touch was gentle and comforting, and Whumpee remembered them as a trustworthy person.
Only it all wasn't up to Caretaker.
And it wasn't up to Whumpee. They didn't decide to forget they were not living in that nightmare anymore.
But if things were to be like this, would they ever truly get out?
#only quickly proofread#self punishment#implied torture#past torture#trauma#conditioned whumpee#aftermath#obedient whumpee#deconditioning#accidental bad caretaker?#whump#whump writing#caretaker x whumpee#protective caretaker#post rescue#caretaking#whump scenario#physical whump#writing#whump prompts#writing prompts#whumpee#whumper#caretaker#whumpblr#writeblr#whump fic
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Hear me out…midari and kirari fucking the reader and winner keeps her as a house pet
-anon gay.
she's all mine — m. ikishima & k. momobami
PAIRING. Midari Ikishima x female reader x Kirari Momobami
SYNOPSIS. Midari and Kirari are trying to win you as their housepet.
CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, fingering, oral sex, power play, Midari cursing a lot, mentions of gunplay (with Midari), pet play (with Kirari), Kirari being quite manipulative (lmk what else)
WORD COUNT. 2.1k
A/N. omfg anon my two biggest kakegurui crushes battling like this ohmyyyy
It had been hours since they made you kneel in that game room. The cold air fanning over the room had your exposed skin freezing.
Your fingers clenched on your numbing knees as you looked over the game table where Midari and Kirari were. Sure, it started as a simple student council gamble. Trying to earn you as a price for the thrill of it. Kirari even put a nice, heavy collar on your neck to prove her point.
Full house, straight flush, and royal flush landed on the table, each side relentless to beat the other. Midari might have taken reckless gambles but won't let Kirari get too ahead of her, even if the game draws out forever.
"So damn boring," Midari huffed, placing her revolver down, knocking a few chips in the process. "You always bet too low, President."
Kirari shot her a firm look, lips forming a sinister smile. "Well, I'm not the one running out of chips now, am I?"
Midari snorted, shrugging that indirect insult. She might be bothered with her stack of chips running short because of her impulsive bets but worrying was never fun so why bother?
Midari looked in your direction, seeing your head bowed down and knees quivering.
"Hey sweetie, come here," Midari ushered you over with a finger to which you slowly obeyed, almost keeling over from your sore knees as you walked towards her.
With an almost triumphant look in her eyes, she circled an arm on your waist and pulled you to her lap. The small sound of surprise coming from you just made the situation even more amusing to her.
Midari tilted her head to Kirari, a smug smile on her face as she said, "Why the sour face now, Prez? Wish you thought about this earlier, huh?"
Midari playfully patted your thigh, squeezing it a bit just to show Kirari how much she have a grip on you.
"Fondling with the prize because you cannot have her by the time this is over looks more pathetic when you do it, Midari," Kirari smiled, putting down a straight royal flush.
"Huh, you think so," Midari chuckled, putting down the same value of cards. Even before the dealer came to settle the situation due to equal value, Midari signaled her to stop and back away.
"I don't want to bet with these damn chips anymore." Midari shoved the rest of her chips out of the way, others toppling and rolling over the floor. She slid down her revolver in the poker table to Kirari's direction, the barrel stopping right at the president's hand.
"Do it," Midari urged, a firm arm remained on your waist as she set her head down on her other hand, waiting for Kirari to make the shot.
You heard the sound of the cylinder turning, a fast resolute aim from Kirari before a gunshot echoed in the room. You trembled in Midari's lap, your hands shaking when you covered your face in shock. Midari patted your head, pulling you close to her body when she saw you trembling.
She wiped the blood from the small cut on her ear, the open wound bleeding out into the collar of her shirt.
"Terrible fucking aim, Prez," she only laughed, holding a handkerchief to her ear to staunch the blood. "I bet you can do worse."
Kirari put the revolver down and said, "I just don't want this game to end sooner than I'd like."
"If you say so," Midari just shrugged, standing up with you in their arms. "Maybe you can aim better at some time soon, eh?"
After you exit the game room, Midari notices the way your hand shakes against hers. She pulled you aside and raised your face to look at her.
"Hey, sugar, sorry to scare you like that," she mumbled, her single eye had a trace of concern. The blood began to dry on the side of her face. It was almost fascinating how the red had smudged on her neck. It suits her in a way.
"I'm okay. Don't worry. Does your ear still hurt?" you asked.
She just chuckled and shook her head, "Nah, I've had worse than this." Midari quickly offered you a hand which you took.
"Let's get out of here, alright?" she winked before pulling you out of that hallway.
----
"Why the hell do you always wear this collar? It's fucking annoying. And you get rashes from it," Midari hissed, before swiftly unlocking your collar and tossing it on the other side of her room, making the thing thump and rattle against the floor. One hand gently pushed you back to bed as her lips ran along your neck, kissing the reddening rashes trailing to where the collar had been earlier.
"The President made me wear it," you mumbled, a hand tangled in her short hair as her kisses turned into bruising ones, even nipping at your skin.
"To hell with what she wants. I don't want you wearing it around me. Got it?" she ordered, popping your uniform open to have your breasts in her mouth. "Let me treat you like a princess when I have you here."
Midari might be a rough woman of crude words and actions but for the weeks she has you by her side, you were never once treated cruelly like a housepet. Every once in a while, she would order you to sit on her lap during games, calling you her lucky charm as she rubbed your thighs.
After one game of Russian Roulette in the beautification council, you had her hot and bothered by how you put the gun on her neck or kissed the muzzle whenever it was your turn to shoot her.
"You do know what you're doing to me, ain't ya?" a husky voice resounded from her throat as she had you in her lap, spreading your thighs on either side of her.
Midari ripped your skirt off much to your protest, before thumbing on your damp underwear. Your hand clenched around her shoulder, your lips strained from holding back your moan.
"You like it when I flirt with you, sweetheart?" Midari took a careful look at your face, only continuing their hand work when you're nodding. A finger brushed the damp material aside, fingers of expertise teasing your folds before plunging two digits inside.
"Such a good girl for me," she breathed out the moment you were dripping onto her fingers, becoming a whimpering mess more and more. "You can't blame me for not trying to win you over, right?"
Each time with Midari felt like a warm embrace from the earth, her fingers always finding their way to give you utmost pleasure, and her tongue learning to find its way to your folds.
She reminded you of a warm reality, a touch of home, even the cold metal of her gun felt sweet against your mouth.
You missed her touch or the way she pats your head as if you're a cat. But you can't even let that thought linger now that you're in front of Kirari, sitting in her office as her sharp eyes bore through your soul.
The slice of cake she offered you felt so sweet in your mouth, the syrup dripping like honey in your throat as she asked, "Are you enjoying it so far?"
You just nodded politely, wary of how you chew. Her elegant, cut-glass voice had your attention as she smiled, her fork running gently along her own plate with a quite untouched slice of cake.
"Do you like your new collar?" she asked next, eyeing the quaint, beaded collar around your neck. Kirari purchased it specifically for you, it looks more like a necklace than a collar with how heavily beaded it was. It was quite heavy but not enough to put you in too much discomfort.
You just nodded and smiled appreciatively at her, wondering how this thing of trying to win you over would end for both her and Midari. What would come after this? Freedom, a life plan, or an even more inescapable prison? Your fork toyed with the rest of the cream, your throat aching for water to wash all the sweetness down.
"Mind if I take you somewhere?" Kirari offered, urging you to follow her outside.
A week with her felt rather... amusing. She loves it when you tail her around while wearing that nice collar with gems matching her eyes. When you kneel or sit by during her games, or how fascinated you were at the Tower of Doors whenever she tours you around. When you hear her laugh or smile, you forget that she's remorseless enough to treat the whole academy as her aquarium to stir and play around with.
She felt like the divine promises of heaven, the only one rightful to place your future in her hands. Just one soft word from her mouth brings about your submission. She fixes and dresses you up like the perfect ornament in her office, a doll to be displayed.
Despite hours of kneeling where you couldn't even feel your knees right after, Kirari manages to soothe you and make you love her all over again. A kiss on your hair or a gentle caress of your thighs had you right under her thumb once more.
"You're such a good pet for me," Kirari would tell you, patting your hair after having your mouth on her cunt for how long she wishes. She tastes as sweet as the cake she feeds you, her cum dripping down your chin like honey and milk from a generous well. For that, you didn't mind your sore, scraped knees or your overworked tongue.
Her fragrance, her silky white hair, her blue eyes ever-present and watching you— all felt so overwhelming as if you were taken by a divine deity to see the world beneath her feet.
Behind closed doors, she enjoys pleasing you. Her perfectly manicured nails brushed your folds, and spread you open experimentally like learning the keys of a new instrument. Kirari always looked at you in amusement, making you wear beautiful skirts just to make you squirt on them when she was playing with you. Her pet, her doll; she would call you.
You learned to do your hair the way she always does for you, even learning how she puts her makeup on which you emulated later on. In that short period, Kirari was making you hers so Midari remembers her competition every time she looks at you.
One afternoon, you emerged from her office, fixing the new collar Kirari gave you, mindlessly thumbing over the polished gems embedded in your neck. That was when Midari spotted you alone once more, momentarily free of Kirari's eye. She pulled you aside, snapping you out of your dazed thoughts as she pinned you against the wall.
The constricted pupil of her eye had met yours once more, softening and dilating into a much more humane appearance. Seeing you in that light blue dress and collar brimmed her mind of all Kirari's schemes she managed to pull with you.
"Midari..." The sound of her name in your mouth nudged the gentleness in her heart. She longed to have you in her arms after a week of not having you. Midari never wanted to share you with anyone in the future even if it killed her.
Midari brushed the hair out of your face, saying, "I missed you, my sweet girl."
Her hand found the nape of your neck, maybe finding a way to get rid of that collar from you, but found it impossible to do so. Midari only cupped your face in her hands, pulling you into a sweet, sloppy kiss you always loved. Every move of her mouth spoke of how she missed you, her grape lipstick left a faint and sweet taste on your mouth as she pulled away slightly to catch her breath.
"Hey," she breathed, looking at your eyes. "Today will be my final gamble with Kirari. Watch me closely, okay?"
You nodded, letting her pat your head once more as you sank into her warm embrace. She reminded you once again of the warm earth after a sunny morning, the stalks of grass brushing your legs in a grass field. Midari's presence grounded you into reality once again, battling with Kirari's celestial promises for a place in your mind.
You were torn and placed in a situation where choosing wouldn't be the best option.
A cough resounded from your back, making you and Midari turn in that direction just to see the president eyeing your intimate moment cross-armed.
"I suggest for us not to touch the pet until the gamble is over. For the sake of fairness. How does that sound?" Kirari said, her cold voice cutting the warmth off that room.
Midari slowly withdrew from you, squeezing you gently before saying, "Sounds like a load of bullshit to me, but fine. I'll have her as long as I like after, anyway."
Your eyes darted from Midari to Kirari, wondering how your fate would be sealed by the end of this day.
likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3
#midari ikishima#midari ikishima x reader#kirari momobami#kirari momobami x reader#kakegurui#kakegurui x reader#kakegurui fanfiction#✂ rem writes____✍︎
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hey bae!! can i pls request a fluffy steve harrington imagine, s3/s4 er’s with the fake dating friends to lovers trope? ty!!
eeeee i loved this!!! i drew some inspo from to all the boys i've loved before <3 love a shy reader moment!!! thank you for sending and i hope you enjoy [wc: 3249.] <3
--
you don't know how the letters got out. how the hell would the letters have gotten out?
you're going through things to get rid of in preparation of going to college-- sure, you were just going to school in indianapolis, but it was better than staying this hell hole of a town even one second longer-- but the hatbox was gone. no, not gone. worse. it was empty.
the expletive you let out has your father screaming from down the hall. "what did i say about language?!"
"sorry!" you squeak as you continue to throw clothes over your shoulders, furrowed brows. "no, no, no..." you groan and cover your face with your hands. this is cruel. god is a cruel, petty thing, you decide.
haven't you been good? you volunteer at the humane society. you never got detention in high school. you'd never stolen anything. you liked to think that you were a good person-- quiet, maybe. introverted, definitely. shy more than anything. and, well, that's how you got into this debacle in the first place.
a hopeless romantic by nature, you could never fathom truly confessing to the loves of your lives. especially considering all of those loves definitely did not feel the same way towards you. i mean-- was king steve going to have a crush on you? no way. which was why it was easy to write your love confession on the page, seal it up, address, stamp, and all-- and place it in the hatbox to never be seen again.
until now.
"honey--" you hear your mother call from downstairs. "someone's asking for you on the phone."
"who?!" you yell back, gripping the banister.
"steve harrington."
your blood goes cold.
you would take ten extra volunteer shifts at the humane society if it meant that all of this would go away.
you shuffle downstairs and take the phone from your mom, leaning against the wall, glancing from right to left as if he was really there with you. "hello?"
"and his hair-- he has the most gorgeous hair i've ever seen. i want to run my hands through it and--"
"STOP!" you run your hand over your face and squeeze your eyes shut. "oh my god, literally, please--"
"oh, c'mon. i'm giving you shit. you know, this whole letter is really sweet. you're a good writer. and sending right before you go off to college? bold move. i respect it." steve's voice has the warmth of a smile embedded into it. you can picture him on the other line, the crisp strawberry stationary in his big hand.
you don't know why you had picked strawberries for steve. it seemed fitting at the time.
breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth, you say slowly, "that wasn't meant to get to you. and, for the record, that was written, like, three years ago."
"wow. you wound me. well, either way, really boosted my ego. i figured i would come by and thank you in person. you live off church street, right? the little green house?"
stammering, you can barely get a word out before he says, "okay, cool, i thought so. see you in ten."
and he hangs up on you. just like that.
it reminds you exactly why your crush on king steve went away in the first place.
--
steve makes it to your house in eight minutes. he comes right up to the door and knocks, and when you open it, frantic and frazzled and with your sweater on backwards, he looks you up and down.
"your tag's sticking out." he tucks it back in for you. "and... it's backwards."
"i realize that now."
"great."
for a moment you're just staring at one another. then steve cracks a smile. "c'mon. can i get you, like, a milkshake or something? you look a little shaky, some sugar would probably--"
but everything goes silent. because approaching your door behind steve is ryan stewart, holding a letter of his own.
"fuck," you hiss under your breath, eyes darting to steve.
"woah, she curses! cool. i always thought you were super uptight, you know--" his words are cut off when you take him by the face and bring him to you, your lips crashing against his. it's slightly awkward; you're mostly kissing his top lip and your noses are crushed together a bit. but his hand finds a home on your waist and you feel his fingertips grip into your skin slightly. when you pull away, you can feel the fire on your face. and when you look over steve's shoulder at ryan, you feel a sick sort of triumph.
"milkshakes sound great, steve," you say the words loud enough for ryan to hear and you wrap your arm around his, calling over your shoulders to your parents that you'll be back soon. the look on steve's face is nothing short of befuddled, but when he turns around and sees ryan stewart standing there with a letter in hand, something seems to click into place.
he shifts your position from an awkward arm lock to a natural draping of his arm across your shoulder. he offers ryan a smile that says-- hey, can i help you? "hey, stewart," he says, nodding his head at him as he walks by.
ryan opens his mouth to say something but steve has already shuffled you into his car. he even opened the door for you. by the time the two of you are inside and steve is driving away, ryan has barely turned in his spot.
silence fills the car. you touch your bottom lip and you feel steve's eyes on you. "well," he begins. "your technique could use some work, but not a bad kiss, all things considered."
dumbfounded where you sit, you slowly glance over at him to see him wearing the biggest smirk imaginable.
and some of your lipstick.
you groan and cover your face with your hands, a muffled, "i'm sorry." getting out. barely. all you can hear is his laughter and when you drop your hands, you can't help but admire just how pretty he looks when he's laughing.
"you don't have anything to be sorry for. a pretty girl kissed me? wow, what a hardship." steve looks over at you. "i'm more curious as to what ryan stewart did to make you kiss me like that."
crossing your arms over your chest, you look out the window. "okay, well-- remember when i told you about the letters?" he nods his head. "well, like i said, you're not the only one who got one. you, ryan, eddie munson, and a boy from summer camp when i was twelve. instead of risking embarrassment and putting my feelings out there, i wrote the letters. and i always felt better when i did."
steve is quiet for a moment before he says, "that's sorta sad, and doesn't answer my question, really."
you roll your eyes and continue. "well, ryan's letter was different than the other ones. it was... a heartbreak letter. ryan and i had dated for six months last year but wanted to keep it a secret. from everyone. and then he ended things with me and got with someone else. prom king and queen." your head falls back against the headrest. "so i wrote how i felt. just like i always do. and you know what? you getting your letter, fine. eddie? he'll be nice about it. the boy from summer camp? who knows if he even got his. but that letter getting out..." you shrug, feeling meek in all the worst ways. "i didn't want him to feel sorry for me. or think that i'm sad and hung up over him, because i'm not. and you were... right there. and i wanted him to see that someone else would kiss me. in public." you press your lips together. "i realize that also sounds sad."
"it does, but not because of you. it sounds sad because ryan is a total dickhead." steve pulls into the parking lot of the diner and he turns and looks at you. "i think i have an idea."
--
"this'll never work."
"it'll absolutely work," steve says with a grin. "it'll make ryan jealous as hell, and remind girls what they're missing when they're not going out with me. i mean, it's basically foolproof. and at the end we go our separate ways with no ill will for one another. c'mon-- give credit where credit is due."
you slide your milkshake closer to yourself and take a long sip. "well, how long do we do this for?"
"you're moving away in three months for school. that seems like a good chunk of time, don't you think?" steve leans forward on his forearms. "look, i know i say a lot, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to. it was just... an idea." he shrugs and you don't know if you've ever seen steve so... sheepish before.
"no. no. it's... it's a good idea, unfortunately." you pause. "but there's going to need to be rules!"
"rules! rules, we can do rules. easy. what rules are you thinking?"
"well... how much time are we going to spend together? how much will we kiss? we're gonna have to go out in order for people to see about us and hear about us, so where are we gonna go? what about--"
steve's hand reaches out and covers yours. it's warm, and calloused slightly. like he's a star baseball player. "we'll figure all of that out. i promise." his thumb swipes across your skin. "contrary to popular belief, i do know how to date someone. how to make someone feel... special." he peers at you. "i can do that stuff for you, too. you know--" he clears his throat. "to make it all more believable."
breathless, you nod your head. "yeah," you smile. "believable."
--
you and steve harrington were the absolute talk of hawkins, indiana. one month into this... experiment and everyone had an opinion, everyone had a comment. even the kiss in front of ryan had become public knowledge. ryan told one person, one told another person, who told five people... and suddenly, after feeling mostly invisible through your high school career, you feel very visible. almost uncomfortably so.
but steve is a good partner in it. there's a reason why you wrote him a letter those years ago-- maybe even then you had seen something in him that other people didn't always recognize. regardless of the bravado, you always felt like there was something... soft about him. a soft underbelly that few people ever got. and now, you know that you were right all along.
because after a day at park, rolling around in the grass and reading to steve and looking around to see who's watching... he could be anywhere else. but he's here, at your house, with you. watching grease.
"your hair kinda reminds me of danny's," you say with a smile. you reach across the couch and run your hand through it; in the weeks that you've been putting on this ruse, you've gotten extremely comfortable around steve. that part is not fake. not one bit. "i like it."
steve smiles and settles further into your couch. "well, does that make you my sandy?"
"i guess so." you scrunch your nose up. "but i never really liked sandy's ending. i mean, why should she change herself to fit in with everyone else? she knows who she is. i never thought that was fair." you scoot a little closer to steve, subconsciously. you'd both agreed that no one could know about your arrangement, especially not your parents. so you supposed that sitting close to him on the couch wasn't that weird.
even if your parents weren't home.
"it's not fair. sandy was cute before the jumpsuit." steve shrugs his shoulders and looks over at you. there's a silence as you two stare at each other. "i'm cool with you being my sandy," the corner of his mouth turns up and he opens his arms. "c'mere."
"steve-- my parents aren't home, we don't have to--"
"it's not for anyone to see. you don't like to cuddle?"
you huff and settle into his arms, your cheek squished against the strong plane of his chest, your legs stretched out across the couch. "of course i like to cuddle."
"that's what i thought."
you both fell asleep like that. you're awoken by steve's gentle touch, brushing your hair from your eyes and shaking your shoulder. "hey-- hey, baby, we fell asleep."
you grumble but don't make any moves to get up any time soon. you feel steve's laugh on your cheek more than you hear it. "alright, you leave me no choice--" you groan in discontent when he slips out from under you. but then he's scooping you up into his arms.
steve takes you up the stairs and into your bedroom, laying you down gently. he pulls back the covers and tucks you beneath them. your eyes flutter open to find him watching you with a lovely smile. truly lovely-- it's the smile that gives you butterflies. "you can't stay?" you whisper, and if you were fully awake, you'd be mortified for asking such a thing.
"don't want to get you in trouble." he pushes your hair back and kisses your cheek, your forehead. "i'll come by in the morning, take you to breakfast. how's that sound?"
you nod your head and yawn. your hand rubs at his arm, a matching smile on your own face. "okay."
"okay," steve whispers. he leans forward and kisses your cheek again. "sweet dreams. see you in the morning."
--
you're not sure how three months went by so quickly.
you also don't know how to reckon with the fact that they went by so quickly because you loved every single moment of them.
it wasn't just that steve was a good fake boyfriend-- steve was just a good person. a good friend. every moment that you spent around him, you wanted to bottle that moment up and live in it forever. he was, whether you wanted to admit it or not, your favorite person.
ryan was an afterthought. none of this was for him, anymore. this... it was all for steve.
"where should i put this one?" steve asks, holding up a box labeled books. "you have, like fifty books boxes. do you even get a bookshelf in your dorm?"
your childhood bedroom is in tatters, picked apart and almost all packed up for your drive tomorrow. you'd be staying at steve's tonight prior to your drive. an occurrence that wasn't all that rare, anyway. you always slept side by side, and it always ended with his strong arms wrapped all around you.
steve and the kids would be there for your send off. another wonderful addition to bringing steve into your life-- the kids that came along with him. dustin was your favorite, but you weren't going to tell that to the others.
and while three months ago, you couldn't wait to get out of hawkins... you don't feel that same excitement now. you're still excited, definitely, but... you have something that you're going to be missing, now. you hadn't exactly planned for that.
you have someone who you'll be missing.
"i can always make room for books," you say, turning your nose up at steve. "you can set it there," you point to another stack of boxes. "thanks for helping."
"'course. that's what a boyfriend's there for."
silence falls over the two of you and you think that steve realizes what he said, because he suddenly goes rigid as he sets the box down with the others. "i mean-- like, a friend. a boy that's a friend. and also your fake boyfriend. i--" he sighs and rubs his face. "fuck."
setting down the tape in your hand, you turn your attention more fully to steve. his hand drops and he meets your gaze and for the first time, you can see everything written all over his face. like he's dropped a mask that's been hiding his real, true feelings. or maybe you'd just been too blind to see it. "say that again."
"a boy that's a friend?"
"no. before that."
he pauses. "that's... that's what a boyfriend is there for?"
you nod your head slowly. "is that... is that how you view yourself? with me? my boyfriend... for real?"
steve's cheeks start to go pink. "i mean... i know you're my best friend. and i know that i fucking love being around you. and i know that... i know that shit started to get a little blurry for me. probably a few months ago. i-- you know, i just... i don't really feel like i'm pretending anymore." he blinks and you can see the nerves on his body. it's what leads you to cross the room towards him and take his hand in yours. "is that... is that what you want?"
"steve," you whisper. "you got a letter in the first place because when i was fifteen i was crazy about you. and i think... i think i've always been a little crazy about you. so... yes. that's what i want."
gentle fingertips trace down your jaw. "i guess not much changes, anyway." he smirks a little. "we've been dating for..."
"three months. two days." you shrug your shoulders as his eyes widen. "i pay attention, i guess..."
steve laughs and he brings you in by the waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. "that's my girl." he goes quiet. "i'm gonna miss you. i was always gonna miss you, but... you know, indianapolis isn't far. i'll come and visit. you'll come home for holidays. we'll... we'll be fine."
your fingers run through steve's hair. "i'm gonna miss you too. what you said earlier? about me being your best friend? you're mine too."
he squeezes your waist and it wrings another smile out of you. steve makes you hopelessly lovesick, in the best of ways.
--
steve ended up driving up with you, helping you set up your dorm alongside your parents. and after you shed your tears when your parents left, after you anxiously paced the floor anticipating the moment that steve would have to leave. "hey, hey, hey," steve finally says, stopping your movements. "i have something for you before i go."
you open your mouth and he shakes his head. "no, no. let me do this." from his back pocket, he procures a letter. complete with your dorm address and a cute stamp in the top right corner. he holds it out to you. "i want you to read this when you miss me most. not tonight-- tonight, i want you to go and have fun and make friends. your roommate seems cool. i'm talking, like, october." he pauses. "can you do that for me?"
your eyes shine with unshed tears. "steve..." it's practically a whimper. you look up at him and you say, "i love you."
wrapping himself around you, his hand rubs your back. "i love you too," he whispers into your ear. "never loved anyone like this before."
butterflies swarm in your stomach. and you still don't know how those letters got sent-- but you've never been so thankful for fate working its magic than you are for that letter being sent, and bringing steve to your doorstep on a warm may afternoon.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fluff#steve x reader#steve fluff#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#my writing
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Rough Mark Hoffman
If someone had entered the police station now, they would have smelled blood on the walls, on her clothes, on the dead blonde woman. Blood on the body of the former policeman, blood on her, the reporter.
But that wouldn't have been the only thing, anyone who went in would have been greeted by a picture of violence and sex. Jill Tuck is dead, her head shredded by the upturned bear trap, Hoffman standing next to her, his face scarred because the same trap almost split his jaw.
But his hands were not on the dead woman, looking for clues to his escape, no, his hands were on the body of the reporter, who could barely stay on her feet, let alone at the cell door.
Her fingers stained with the blood of the guards, the dead and others, she almost slipped against the metal again and again due to the force of his impact. ,,Sl-Slow down, Ma-Mark, please," she mumbled, trying to keep her voice down, knowing that if someone came into the police station it would be worse for them both than it already was.
But a slap on her back and a tug on her hair made her groan, her words echoing back to her in the resounding room.
She heard his smirk, but she knew her friend and mentor no differently. ,,I have to reward my girl for her work," he muttered to her, a twitch going through her body as she felt his hand go from her hair to her neck, taking her breath away while her back still arched slightly.
His thrusts didn't stop as her skirt was pushed up and the buttons of her blouses were already undone. There was no chance he had wanted her in this adrenaline rush and how could she say no. But this was taking too long for a quickie.
She still tasted the flavor of his cum on her tongue along with the blood and spuce as she played with him. Hoffman, who was still tied up, wanted to give him a blow job but she didn't think he would want to go any further.
,,If-if someone comes ngh-more," she murmured, feeling how hard it would be if he continued to fuck her like this, his grip on her neck tightening but still she pressed herself against him. Tightening around him, she felt the twitch of his cock, his rough hands stained with blood. But she would be lying if she said it wasn't good.
He knew they both knew she loved it when he treated her like this. When he treated her like this, with every blow, thrust and bite, it was something they both needed.
,,Let him see us...my pretty girl fuck feel good" he replied putting his hand firmly around her neck again although he also knew that they only had limited time until the rest of the cops would be here but until then he had his treasure all to himself and could continue to fuck her in peace and enjoy her.
His good girl
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@lola-max-sugar , @callmeklarise , @magmabayvi , @megustadilf , @slut4hoffman
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Yrz hit the garden of the royal palace in hell in ablaze of agony and with a glitching form. Unfortunately Lucifer and Lilith are out at the moment and three year old Charlie is in the garden with a pair of imp minders.
Unfortunately those imps see a random angel in the palace garden and abandon baby Charlie without looking back.
Wait, Yrz thinks through the agony, is that a fucking baby????
Also, Yrz immediately flash backs to his disastrous arrival in heaven and how he fried four weak angels just from loosing control.
Unfortunately this baby is sitting well within frying distance. She is also cute as — hah — hell.
Nope! Yrz has never hurt a baby in any goddamn lifetime and he’s not starting now. His monstrous will rises from the depths and his self control snaps it’s jaw around the agony and swallows it whole. He yanks his power into form. It still fucking hurts but that is the least important part of this situation. His glitching form snaps into a body that’s broken but solid. His paper wings and one leg are angled wrong, and what passes for ribs are for sure broken. Inky blood leaks from a multitude of wounds, turning to gold ichor when it touches the ground.
the baby remains unfried.
It only feels like he’s dying. It’s just a body. Yrz can deal.
Yrz’s still working on human adjacent facial features so he settles on manifesting one sheet of paper with a smiley face on it. “Hey honey, where are your parents?”
The little girl grins — and those are little baby fangs. “Daddy go out!”
Great.
Babysitting it is.
This, Yrz thinks, really is hell.
“You got a name, you little demon?”
The girls eyes honest to god sparkle. Why. How. “Char-char!
-
Lucifer and Lilith, alerted to an intruder by their panicked staff, show up in full demon forms.
They find baby Charlie happily scribbling over some of yrzs paper wings and chattering happily to a long suffering Yrz.
All the grown ups pause, wary.
Charlie immediately shrieks and wobbles to her parents in delight. Her very dangerous parents. Yrz recognizes that face from the archives.
Lucifer Morningstar snatches up his daughter like she’s a treasure he thought lost forever. And if that’s Lucifer the woman must be Lilith.
Yrz cannot catch a break.
Yrz clears his throat — or what passes for it. It sounds like a Peice of paper being torn apart. He morphs his stupid smiley face sheet into an origami rose. Harder to read. “I come in peace?”
Lucifer glances at the crater where his garden used to be. He raised an eyebrow.
Ah.
“I fell from heaven really, really fast in peace?” Yrz tries.
“Of course you did, And what do you do to be booted out of the pearly gates? Murder? Arson? Something — worse?” Lucifer sounded tired. He was still clutching Charlie to his chest which undermined the nonchalance in his voice.
Um. Yrz shrugs with his broken shoulders as much as he can. “Nothing really? I left.”
Yrz also trashed the place as he went, but that was more of a side effect than a cause. Besides, was a crime really committed if no one saw you do it?
“You — left.”
“Yeah.”
“You left paradise. The paradise created specifically for humans who lived virtuous lives. The paradise made specifically by God, the all knowing creator?”
“It was nice,” what Yrz had seen of it before he was locked in a golden cage for one hundred years. “But it was also kinda — boring.”
Lucifer stares. “Boring. My fathers crowning glory.”
“I’m sure God worked really hard on it?” Yrz half asked, getting a little annoyed with all the staring. “Look I don’t really know what you want me to say here. it’s not like I asked for eternal paradise okay. I literally just did my job to the best of my ability while I was alive! I don’t even worship any kind of god! I was ready for nothingness, without consciousness! Not hymns and sugar forever! No problems to solve at all!”
Yrz tried to keep himself entertained! But even all of the records of heaven couldn’t last forever for a being of pure information that Yrz had become, a thing that could just — absorb shit instantly,! make it a part of himself! He went through the whole archive in fifty years — and he never forgot anything anymore. Any longer in that cage and he would have chewed off his own wings. He would’ve broken his halo and used the pieces to see if suicide was still an option. He could feel himself slipping into that cold place where humanity meant less than nothing. The only thing that remained was the problem: a way out. By any means necessary.
Yrz was not a being made for stagnation.
Something was bound to break. So Yrz made sure it wasn’t him.
Sure heaven was a little bit… charred, but what prisoner felt bad for their jailers?
Not this one.
“What the fuck,” Lucifer said. His demon form vanished.
“Fuck!” Charlie said, cheerfully.
“Darling,” lilith said chidingly.
“Oh fuck — no I mean, darn! Sorry, dearest. Come on char-char, don’t say that, daddy didn’t mean to say a bad word!”
“Fuck!”
“Oh, this going to be like the s-word incident all over again huh? Why are children like this?”
Lilith and Yrz watched as the king of hell began to wander off, completely absorbed in his giggling daughter.
Finally Lilith broke the silence. “ you’re injured. Come and we shall see to your care.”
“And in return?” Yrz asked, wary.
He wouldn’t exchange one cage for another.
She smiled, a soft, sad little thing. “ while you recover, nothing. You shall be as an honored guest. Afterwards we shall negotiate.”
“…why?”
Lilith glanced after her husband and child. “I am no stranger to the marks left by those who are so convinced of their righteousness that they are blind to the grace of mercy. No one here is a friend to those golden cowards in their golden home.”
Yes. She would be. To be created and given to some man without choice — disgusting. Yrz would’ve rejected that commandment as well. He would belong to himself and those he chose.
“I can’t really move,” Yrz admitted sheepishly. “My — everything is broken.”
Lilith nearly smiled. “I am aware. The injures of a fall that long are also familiar. May I?” She knelt by him, careful of his wings. The scribbles from Charlie were very pink against their paleness.
Yrz blinked. Some sort of healing magic? “Sure — woah!”
Lilith picked Yrz up as if he weight nothing. He stifled a noise of agony and felt his form glitch again. He stilled with a grimness. No frying the queen of hell who’s trying to help you, asshole.
“Sorry,” he said because that had to sting.
“It is no matter,” Lilith said. “You are much more injured than I thought if your form is that unstable. “
“Well,” Yrz said. “There was a baby right there. I couldn’t just — my form is pretty difficult to withstand.”
Lilith paused and looked down to meet yrzs eyes would be, if he had any. “Thank you. She is dear beyond words to both of us. “
“I don’t need thanks for not hurting a kid,” Yrz said dryly. “Not lashing out when in pain is a basic adult skill.”
“And yet it is a rare talent.”
Yrz wished he had eyes so he could roll them. “It shouldn’t be.”
“Mama!” Charlie’s vice called out. “Come sing, sing! Fuck!”
Lilith laughed under her breath. She carried Yrz towards her home and family.
Hell, Yrz concluded, was beyond weird.
He felt better already.
#vrrm vrrm#Hazbin au#better towns au#bfiasc aus#yrzs luck strikes again!#behold my unedited draft written on my phone#if you see typos and mistakes no you don’t <3#hazbin hotel#original characters#oc#put it under the cut because it was looong
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*at the dinner table*
Hidan: *gagging as he tries to eat a chicken breast* Fucking hell, blondie; could this be anymore gross?!
Deidara: Hey, I worked hard on that, hm! I know you eat everything all bloody but you can’t do that with chicken!!
Hidan: Yeah but … this is so … like I know that you’re used to choking on dry meat but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are!
Kakuzu: Hidan, enough. Nobody complained when you made those tacos with so many spices they nearly blew out our assholes.
Itachi: Still haven’t recovered from that, by the way.
Konan: Guys. Please. You guys taking turns cooking so I don’t have to every night is such a big thing for me, please don’t ruin it by being nasty to each other. Okay?
Deidara: Sorry, Konan.
Hidan: Yeah; sorry, beautiful. Blondie, this shit ain’t that bad, okay?
Kisame: Who’s turn is it to cook tomorrow night? Is it mine?
Konan: *looks at the chart* Actually it’s Tobi’s.
*everyone looks at Tobi*
Kakuzu: Tobi … you know how to cook?
Tobi: I sure do, Kakuzu-san! I went to the market and got everything I needed! SUGAR, cinnamon, pastry dough, sweet milk —-
Konan: Wow, you’re planning on making dessert, too? How nice!
Tobi: … dessert? That’s gonna be our dinner!
The others:
Hidan: That’s even worse than blondie’s! Are you trying to crash our fucking blood with sugar! I should —
Tobi, in Obito voice: You know what *I* should do? Shove everything right up your pale white ass! And you can use the icing for lube, you ungrateful dick!! Now shut the fuck up before you get my boot up there as well!!
Hidan:
Tobi, back in his own voice: Does anyone else have any complaints about dinner?
Everyone: *shakes their head*
Tobi: Good.
#the akatsuki#making dinner#deidara#hidan#kakuzu#itachi uchiha#tobi#konan#kisame hoshigaki#obito uchiha#tw language
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Is being pregnant with twins different/difficult for the missus? How does matty react to the accidental pregnancy when they find out, how does he react to finding out that there’s not one but two babies?
i think with already having three children, and valentine being very little when you get pregnant again, that it takes you a while to notice. matty is on the floor with the two older girls playing dolls and you're undoing baby valentines duffle coat, her cheeks all red from the cold, unsteady on her feet having only just learned to stand. suddenly, a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere and you have to stand up straight and cover your eyes with you hands to stop everything from spinning. valley's half in half out her coat.
"baby?" matty says, "baby, you ok?"
the wave dulls and you look back out at him and smile, "yeah i'm okay. come on valley, coat off."
you kneel back down again to your youngest's height, but you can feel matty's eyes on you, frowning slightly. you ignore him and smile at valley, who babbles something and pokes your face. the other two girls are starting to fight over one of the dolls, whining, and matty turns back around to intervene, and you stand back up. everything goes blurry again, but this time worse, you see black.
"baby?" you hear.
next thing you're aware of is a few seconds later, your in matty's lap on the floor and he's stroking your hair. shay is screaming. valley too but more because of her sister than anything else. gigi's eyes are wide and you reach out to her, trying to smile.
"mummy's okay," you say, weakly. "i'm okay."
gigi swallows, trusting you, and nods. matty speaks.
"gigi can you get my phone from the arm chair please my love?"
she walks slowly over, still spooked and hands it to him. you try to get up, protesting that you're okay, your whole body aching to get to your baby girls to calm them down.
"no no sweetheart," matty says, "stay still."
he's got his phone to his ear and you can hear it buzzing. then you hear his mother's voice. him explaining what has happened. her voice raising and octave as she says, yes of course. i'll be right round. dont you worry.
matty takes you to the walk in. you're feeling a lot better by the time you get there, but your hands are still shaking when you try and lift the plastic cup of water he has got you to your lips. he takes it off you and feeds it to you, making you laugh mid drink so you spit it all out and both start laughing, him flicking water at you as you've got it all over his trousers. you hear someone call your name.
the nurse raises her eyebrows at the pair of you and you both stop laughing abruptly and then snigger to each other as you follow her into the room.
you explain what happened. the nurse runs through a list of what you ate today and drank and takes your vitals.
"and is there any chance you might be pregnant?" she asks. you and matty both laugh.
"doubtful," you say, "i had a baby a year ago. i've been on the pill since."
"we'll do a test just to be sure," she smiles. you do it. you barely even think about it. it's just routine. it will be just be because you have low blood sugar or something. because you forgot to eat lunch because you had to take the girls to town today to get new school shoes and were running around after them all evening. the nurse comes back in.
"well your pregnancy test was positive."
"you what?" matty says.
"you're pregnant," she says. she scans between both your faces and then says, "you know, birth control isn't one hundred percent..."
matty holds up his hand, "you can save it, we know. believe me. we know."
you lie back on the hospital bed, hand to head, laughing. pregnant. again. when you didnt even think you could have one. and you have three baby girls at home, waiting up for you.
"matty," you say, reaching out for his hand. he grabs it and squeezes. "were having another fucking baby," you say.
"i know darling," he says, smiling at you. he comes over and kisses you softly on the head over and over. "you can do this. we can do this. another baby."
"another baby," you say, thinking of valley's pink little cheeks, and the baby grows you packed away last week, not quite ready to let go of them, and the smell of your friend's new born's head. you start smiling. grinning. uncontainable.
"another baby," matty says. he looks at you. he is grinning too. the same thought process having gone through his head as well. he remembers tiny wrinkly fingers clutched around one his thumb and he aches. "what a miracle."
after you confirm your dizziness was just the pregnancy, you both emerge into the dark cold evening, hospital lights hazy, both dazed. you can't believe it happened.
"i should text your mum," you say, getting your phone out.
"no don't," he says quickly.
"but the girls..."
"will be fine for another hour. we're childless right now," he says, gesturing to around your feet where the girls usually would be.
"you're bad, healy," you say, grinning. he wiggles his eyebrows then wraps an arm around you.
"what do you want love? if you could have anything in the world. right now. what would it be?"
"a cheeseburger."
"a cheeseburger?" matty laughs, "i'm offering you the world."
"and i want meat with cheese."
"fuck it. my girl wants. my girl gets."
you go to a nearby burger place, laughing in a booth next to a steamed up window. matty gets burger sauce all over his face. you talk about music and art and the news. you talk about where you want to travel to. the best places matty has ever seen. how you would do things differently if you lived again. what you would study if you went back to uni. you live out your whole lives, childless and free, writing letters to each other from various beaches and mountains and stages. you pretend to be on the phone to each other, updating on adventures, making up fake hunks and models that you've slept with, trying to get a rise out the other. matty's cheeks go pink at the thought of you with another guy. he rushes the bill. he books a hotel room that you end up in for an hour, an hour and half at most. he makes you his own again. then tangled up in the sheets you begin to talk again. where would i go? who would i be?
it's a game. but as you play, the ache for everything you're describing fades. you hold his warm body closer.
"i would be some sort of marine biologist or some shit," matty says dreamily, "hanging with dolphins."
"i would be gigi's mum," you say. he turns to you. "and shay's."
matty's face softens. he sees you. real you. hotel room. escaped from the kids for a night. clock ticking closer to your eldest's bedtime.
"and valentine's," you say.
"and the new baby," matty says, putting a hand over your stomach.
you nod, smiling up at him. he speaks again.
"and in every lifetime," matty says, "i would be yours."
"yeah?" you say.
"i would tear down all those beaches and mountains and stages. i would drop out of every course. i would get on every plane. just to come home to you. every day."
you check out the hotel and go home to your baby girls. they run at you at the door and you scoop them up, shay in your arms, gigi and valley in mattys.
"are you okay? everything okay?" mattys mum says, meeting you and the girls at the door.
"yes, all good," matty tells her and you nod.
"thanks so much for taking the girls," you tell her.
"my pleasure," she smiles, "they're a pleasure, arent you darling?"
she squishes baby valley's cheeks and makes her laugh. you and matty share a look, knowing in nine months or so she will have a new baby to love. it's a hard pregnancy, you're sick a lot and extra tired having to look after three girls while carrying two. in keeping with your usual style too, a surprise baby means matty can't plan and has to go ahead with concerts and interviews and trips that were scheduled. but he does what he says. he always comes home to you.
#ruins#ruins behind the scenes#matty healy x reader#matty healy x you#matty healy#matty healy x y/n#the 1975 fanfic#matty healy fanfiction#dad!matty
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Hey y’all guess what?!? :) it’s time for a new episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE!!!
Who ordered some old man yaoi? That’s right, this one is set right after If Heaven And Hell Decide, with a sick Kyle, worried Stan, the best little immortal cat of all time, adding injury to illness, two middle aged men being massive fantasy dorks, all that goodness. Very sorry to my favorite arthritic ginger it will happen again, very sorry to his extremely concerned husband.
And y’all. I’m dedicating this to the Sickfic Queen herself, @alwaysinstyle who consistently kicks ass and gets stoked about style taking care of each other with me. Ana I love you so much and I’m so proud of you. All the people in your corner, we have you covered.
Also OFC the rest of the RANT homies have been subjected to random snippets of this over the past 2 weeks or so (jesus my sadsack ass needs to get some motivation back how has it been two weeks) but hey I will always be obnoxious when the mood strikes me and this long ass monstrosity is FINALLY done!!! Thank y’all fr for putting up with me.
Here’s •Well, That Would Be Pretty Odd•
A subtle knock at the door drew Stan’s attention and Kyle from uneasy rest. His husband’s head lolled exhaustively in his hand, still drained of energy and, according to the screen displaying his vitals, running a pretty high fever. Stan kept one arm protectively over him and turned to the door. “Yeah?”
The doctor entered, shutting the door behind her. “Hey, guys, how are we doing in here?”
Kyle pulled up slowly, clearly emotional, like he always got when he was sick. “Can I go home yet? Moose needs me.”
“Our cat,” Stan explained. “He’s worried he scared our cat.”
“I did.”
“Scared the hell out of your husband, too, sick as you are. It says on the chart you guys filled out that your blood sugar was low enough to potentially trigger a seizure. If he hadn’t acted as fast as he did, you’d be even worse off than you are.”
Kyle slumped back into Stan. “He always rescues me,” he murmured.
Stan felt like crying. “I’m your knight when you need me, dude.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, what’re we working with here? Stomach flu, dehydration, complications because of the diabetes, all that, right?”
“Right. Kyle, we have you on antivirals and fluids via IV for now, and I know you’re eager to get home-“
“-he hates hospitals-“
“-I hate hospitals.”
The doctor smiled kindly, even after getting interrupted. Stan liked her. “We’re keeping you overnight at least, but if your vitals are still stable and your fever is less than 102, we can send you home.”
Stan knew Kyle appreciated being the one addressed about his own health. This doctor could read the room, that’s for sure. Kyle nodded tiredly, eyes closed.
“How about when we go home? What’s the plan?” Stan inquired, tired as fuck himself but making an exception for Ky, always.
“Fluids, rest, anything with nutritional value that can stay down. Your friend in the waiting room mentioned orange juice as you guys’ go-to when Kyle’s having trouble with blood sugar? And he said you’re always diligent about keeping an eye on his health.” She was definitely addressing Stan now, since Kyle had clearly relinquished responsibility for the time being, knowing Stan had him covered. Hell yeah he did. “Any further complications; if you catch the bug too and can’t take care of him, another bad sugar drop or fever spike, and you guys come right back here. But at this point, it’s looking like this is something manageable from home, fingers crossed.”
And Stan had every finger crossed. He’d take care of Kyle, just like Kyle took care of him. Even if he was kind of scared as fuck, not having seen him quite this sick since maybe college. Or even when they were kids and he needed kidney surgery. He bit the panic down. Kyle was okay.
“Gotcha. I can spend the night? Spousal rights and everything?”
“You won’t convince him not to stay if you say no,” was Kyle’s muffled reply.
The doctor laughed. “I won’t make you leave. The last thing I want is either of you worked up, especially you, Kyle. If you need your husband with you to be comfortable-“
“-mhm-“
“-that’s not a problem in my book.” She tapped her clipboard with long fingernails. “There’s a call button on the bed if you need anything between the nurses checks, and I’ll tell your friend he’s free to go. He isn’t allowed back here, I’m afraid, but I can also let him know he can be the one to pick you up in the morning, if that’s what you two want?”
Kyle mumbled something that sounded like “like a good neighbor, Tucker is there” to the tune of the state farm insurance jingle. The doctor raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, he’s pretty delirious, alright.” A couple quick checks to Kyle’s IV line and heartbeat monitor, and she was gesturing for Stan to lay his half asleep husband back down. “You boys get some rest. We’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks,” Stan whispered, letting Kyle nuzzle into his chest as she left the room. Once they were alone in the darkened space, he kissed him softly on the top of the head. Kyle was a space heater. But if the hospital staff wasn’t alarmed, they were okay. “I’ve got you, baby, just sleep.”
The next morning, Kyle improved enough to leave and discharge paperwork done, they faced the problem of actually getting the sick man home.
Stan waved off the nurse’s offered wheelchair and stubbornly picked Kyle up because like hell was he losing even a second of contact. That and he took pride in the fact that he was in his 40s and still able to carry his husband.
“Sir, there’s procedure…”
Kyle snorted from where his head was against Stan’s shoulder, coherent enough to be aware but still too weak to insist on, god forbid, trying to walk on his own. “Believe me, ma’am, there’s no way in hell you’re convincing this guy not to carry me. Losing battle, mark my worms- words.”
Someone needed to be home in bed.
The nurse sighed, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth argument. Thank God, because Kyle could out argue anyone normally, but he was fucking tired.
“Just sing me home again, Orpheus,” he murmured into his husband’s ear.
Stan laughed at the reference. “Alright, ma’am, so if we’re all set….”
“Yes, yes, you can go. Hope you feel better.”
Kyle only had a vague recollection of both Stan and Craig yelling at the hospital staff when they brought him in, which was kind of funny to think about. Craig didn’t get worked up about things easily, and Stan was as gentle as they came. But it was nice to know his friend and his partner were willing to act so out of character for his sake. He muttered a “hey, spaceman” in greeting when Stan lowered him into the back of Craig’s car, mid morning sun forcing him to keep his eyes closed.
Craig barked a short laugh, pulling from the parking lot when both his passengers were settled for the short drive. “Someone’s feeling better.”
“I’ll get him set to rights, kick the plague’s ass,” Stan said, softly kissing his husband’s still too warm forehead. “Thanks for picking us up, dude. And for last night.”
“No biggie,” Craig shrugged nonchalantly. “Someone had to keep a level head and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna be either of you.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong there. Craig was probably the least prone to getting over emotional person Stan had ever met.
Craig’s husband, however, was the exact opposite. Upon getting home and getting up to bed, Kyle could faintly hear the frantic voice of Tweek downstairs, bringing Moose back from spending the night over at apartment two.
Kyle was nauseous, not to the point that he had been, but nauseous all the same, waiting for Stan to be done retrieving their cat and filling Kyle’s water. He felt weak as shit, and sweaty, which was probably a reasonably good indicator of his fever coming down, but it fucking sucked. And he was going to need some soup or something in him soon so his blood sugar didn’t get so bad again, which was another thing that sucked, because why do flesh prisons require so much maintenance? Why did his body require so much to function.
He didn’t realize tears were flowing until Stan entered the bedroom, hands full with the water, a KMBS, and one of those bottled protein drinks that tasted like chalk. Moose was quick to jump up and pad softly over to him, big blue eyes so worried and sweet as he curled up beside him. Kyle’s two blue eyed boys.
The second of whom was setting the drinks on the bedside table. There was a straw in each, so Kyle wouldn’t have to move as much to drink. It made him cry harder.
“Shhh, dude, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Stan climbed onto his side and grabbed the juice, holding it to Kyle’s lips. “I know you don’t feel good, that’s okay. I’ve got you. Go slow, okay?”
Kyle complied, the sharp taste of salted orange juice helping both physically and mentally. Plus, it’s hard to drink something and cry at the same time, so his breathing was a little less sporadic. A few sips were all he managed before his stomach started rolling, and he shook his head. Stan understood, setting the cup down and pulling Kyle’s face into his chest. “Just sleep, baby. I’m gonna have to check your temperature and levels in about an hour, but just sleep until then, alright?”
“Mhm.”
Stan would take care of him. Kyle would put up a fight, when he had the strength to, but Stan knew from experience that he’d be ‘secretly’ loving being cared for.
The husbands had a couple favorite positions to hold each other in. They’d hold the other from behind, arms wrapped around and poised to kiss an exposed nape or shoulder as a reminder of their presence. They would entangle themselves like they were doing now, they’d let the other’s head rest on their legs, Kyle would perch himself in Stans lap or Stan would drape over him like a blanket. Holding each other was safe. And in this moment Stan wrapped protectively around his sick partner like it was his sacred duty, one hand cradling Kyle’s head from underneath, fingers gently rubbing his hair, the other arm tucking him firmly against himself, feeling Moose’s purrs vibrating where the cat had claimed his place against Kyle’s back, right below the place Stan’s arm was wrapped around.
Stan glanced at the nightstand clock, keeping watch for the next time they’d need to wake up for a check in. About an hour and he’d get the thermometer to make sure they were still headed in the right direction, check Kyle’s levels, make them both something for, well, he supposed lunch at this point, and call the clinic to let his coworkers know that he’d be out a few days for a family emergency. He’d have to let Kyle’s work know too, before his husband tried to go into school still unwell.
Fitfully, Kyle dozed, sweating in his sleep, which Stan knew damn well he’d complain about when he woke up, but personally, he didn’t mind holding a miniature sun, because it was Kyle. Overheated, but still Kyle.
It hadn’t quite been an hour, but the warmth was starting to concern him. He gently kissed the top of his husband’s head, encouraging him to stir.
“Dude, hey.”
Kyle let out a tired whine as indication that he was awake.
“I know, baby. I just need to check your temperature and then you can go back to sleep.”
“I can check my own damn temperature,” Kyle protested, rolling over onto his back when Stan relinquished his grasp around his beloved. He scowled. “I’m all sweaty.”
Stan chuckled lowly. Was he right or was he right. “Gimme a second.”
Upon getting the thermometer and finding that they were still going in the right direction, Stan relaxed slightly. He let Kyle check both his temperature and blood sugar by himself, because it wasn’t worth the impending argument and the last thing he wanted was to make his husband feel helpless. Fever was down, but he definitely needed something to eat soon.
“Dude, do you think you can handle something solid, or you wanna keep sticking with drinks?”
Kyle hadn’t puked in a while, so he felt like maybe something simple, easy on the stomach, would be okay. As much as he wanted to keep going with the safe option of juice and a protein shake, he wouldn’t get better without something substantial in him and he knew it. “I can try. No promises.”
“You don’t need to promise anything,” Stan insisted, leaning down to kiss him on the way out of bed. “But I have an idea, if you’re okay by yourself for a few minutes.”
“Moose is with me. I’m not by myself,” Kyle remarked with a sleepy smile.
Stan snorted and went to change into jeans, last night’s pajamas not exactly ideal attire for walking to the BBQ place a block over. Kyle was weird about food sometimes, but Brendan’s mac and cheese was a simple, safe, Kyle approved bet. He’d probably want it to get cold first like he usually did (weirdo), but sick Kyle was sort of a wild card. They’d see.
“I’ll be back in fifteen, dude, drink some water.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Kyle heard the door close downstairs, slowly reaching for his water at the bedside, one hand resting on their cat’s head. Moose was stretched out along his side, fluffy tail dangling off the side of the mattress.
“You sleepy too, young nastyman?” Kyle asked, setting the bottle down and closing his eyes. Moose purred in response.
Apparently he’d drifted off again, waking up to the rustle of a takeout bag and a strong, smoky smell.
Kyle clapped a hand over his mouth. Ordinarily the smell of brisket and ribs wouldn’t bother him, but in his half asleep state, smelling meat on Stan of all people…
“…Dude?”
“FUCKING CHANGE!” Kyle screeched, staggering up to run to the bathroom, tears in his eyes because the bbq place smell all over his vegetarian husband was wrong and disorienting and he hated being sick and fevers made him sensitive and an asshole and-
Falling hard in front of the toilet, he felt his knee go out. The cherry on top of the fucking cake while his stomach tried to escape his body. Kyle cried out in pain, which was cut off immediately by a wave of sick splashing into the porcelain while he attempted to move and take the weight off his left leg, shaking and already crying because he was pissed and it hurt and he couldn’t catch a damn break. Dry heaving and spluttering, he collapsed tiredly into the alcove between the toilet and the cabinets, one trembling arm draped over the seat and the other hand clutching his knee, eyes shut tightly against the light and the nausea and pain.
“Ky, hey, hey, oh, fuck, baby, shit, did you twist your knee? Okay, you’re okay, hold on-“
Kyle leaned over to retch again, choking out “YOU SMELL WRONG” because that’s all he could manage between gasps.
Stan yanked his shirt off and threw it through the open door into the hallway, past where Moose was watching with wide eyes from the threshold. “Okay, I’m sorry, is that better? Here.” He gently eased Kyle’s hand away from his leg, carefully straightening it out. “God, yeah, it’s already swelling.”
“WHY do I have to LIVE IN THIS GODDAMN FLESH PRISON?!?” Kyle slammed his fist against the floor, frustrated beyond belief. Stan caught his hand before he could do it again.
“Shh, Ky, c’mon. You’re okay, it’s fine.”
Seeing his husband like this, sick, aggravating his bad knee mid vomit, broke Stan’s heart. But he had him. He had him and wouldn’t let go. Was that dramatic? Absolutely. But when the fuck was he not dramatic about Kyle’s health?
“THAT FUCKING STUPID ASS NURSE!” Kyle was yelling. “Sending me sick kids, thinking they were just trying to get out of class, that BITCH!”
“Baby, dude, calm down, man, breathe.”
“YOU’RE ONE TO FUCKING TALK!”
Alright, point to Kyle. Stan sighed as Kyle heaved over the toilet again, expelling nothing but water. They really needed to get something in him before he wound up needing the hospital again. Stan gently rubbed his husband’s back as he hiccuped and cried, clearly feeling betrayed by his body. A few minutes of heavy breathing, and Kyle was pulling back up. “I- I think I’m d-done.”
“Alright dude, I’m gonna get you up now, that okay?”
“Mhm”
Very, very carefully, Stan hauled Kyle from the floor, mindful not to move his knee too much and going slow in case of another bout of nausea. Moose trotted into the bedroom after his dads, obviously distressed seeing Kyle cry and immediately curling back up against the redhead when Stan set him down.
Stan was honestly a little nauseous himself, because Kyle’s frustrated tears never failed to make him emotional too. But he knew what to do here, he reminded himself. Fever was coming down, leg flare up was pretty routine, Kyle would rant it out if he had to and Stan would be his yes-man, and liquids were probably going to be the staple for the rest of the day.
He rolled up a throw blanket and propped it under Kyle’s leg, taking some strain off the irritated joint and kissing his husband’s kneecap when he did so. “You want ice, babe?”
“Yes I want fucking ice,” Kyle mumbled, arms draped over his eyes.
Stan could admit to enjoying taking care of Kyle when he fucked up his knee; pissed off Kyle was cute. “Aw, baby, I got you.” He grabbed the takeout bag from the nightstand too, not knowing if the bbq smell was lingering there too. “I’ll stick this in the fridge for when you want something solid, okay? How ‘bout another Ensure?”
Kyle grumbled something inaudible that Stan took as a yes. Poor thing was so upset. But he had every right to be, and Stan would never be annoyed at him for that.
Downstairs, he debated making his husband a smoothie, but the blender was loud, and his head probably already hurt from throwing up. Instead, he just grabbed an ice pack and a shake (strawberry, still gross but the flavor Kyle hated the least), taking the time to scribble out the nutrition information, just in case. That practice was pretty much habit at this point; he’d started ripping off or crossing out the calories on food for Kyle when they were fourteen, when his favorite person was recovering from his eating disorder, and even if he’d been more than fine for a longgggg time, Stan was prone to reverting to the past. When Kyle wasn’t okay, for whatever reason, food lore got crossed out.
“Dude, you up?”
“Mm”
“Shit, babe.” Stan knelt by the bed to carefully apply the ice, reaching a hand up to thumb away a falling tear. “You just mad?”
“Fucking pissed,” Kyle moaned. “It’s not enough that I have the goddamn plague?!? I have to have to fuck my leg up too? My parents are, like twice our age and even they don’t have fucking arthritis!” Kyle pointed two middle fingers to the ceiling as a ‘fuck you’ to god, which was actually pretty funny, but Stan didn’t laugh. That would only make his husband madder.
“Ky, c’mon.” Stan cupped under his head to kiss his cheek, relishing in the subtle smile that action brought. “And your parents didn’t shred tendons and refuse to do physical therapy.”
“I am damn well aware my goddamn arthritis is my own fault, Staniel.” But he sighed contentedly, adjusting the ice pack before leaning back against the pillows. “That helps. I’m sorry.”
Declaring the anger over for now, Stan climbed into bed beside him. “Don’t be sorry, dude. How’s your stomach?”
“I don’t fucking feel good.”
“I know, dude, can you drink a little water? We have to keep you hydrated.”
“It’ll just come back up.”
“Not necessarily.”
Moose crawled up between his dads, small furry head on Kyle’s shoulder, knowing he needed comfort. Kyle rubbed his face on the cat. “Babyman, did I scare you last night? I did, huh?”
“Dude,” Stan started, “he’s fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine. Drink something and don’t move your leg.”
“I didn’t shred my tendons, by the way.” Kyle protested. “I just tore some shit a little.”
“Enough that it’s a problem even now.”
“See, you get it.”
Stan laughed. “Quit being a dick and go to sleep, baby. You know you’ll feel better. I’m right here, dude, whatever you need.”
“I’m not being a dick, I’m being contrary.”
“Same difference.”
“Mm.”
God, poor Kyle, pissed off, sick, having a flare up on top of everything else. “Dude, what do you need?”
“Leg hurts.”
“We have a pack on it, dude. Maybe some ibuprofen? You should take some for the fever anyway.”
“It hurts.”
Stan started to gently rub his partner’s knee. “I know, babe. I know it’s hurting.”
“I hit it on the floor.”
“I know you did.”
“Fuck this shit.”
Kyle knew he was being a total dramatic asshole, but he didn’t care. God had fucked him over; he could be a dick. That made sense. “I’m mad, dude.”
“That’s okay.”
And no he didn’t have the right to be mad. Stan was being so sweet. Always. Any time Kyle’s meat suit betrayed him and he got upset about it, Stan was there, doting and adorable as ever. “I’m sleepy.”
“So go to sleep.”
“Something bad’s gonna happen.”
“Oh, dude.” Stan wrapped around him, carefully. “We’re not OCD spiraling. We’re not. A little rest, alright?”
In actuality, Kyle was too tired to argue.
It had to have been a few hours when Stan felt Kyle stir against his chest, swinging over to get out of bed… and promptly falling with a loud “FUCK!”
“Ky?”
“I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT MY GODDAMN LEG!!!”
Stan sprang off the bed then too, getting on the floor beside his hyperventilating husband. “Dude, shhh, okay, okay, straighten it out.”
Sobbing, Kyle did. “D-don’t, freak, okay? I moved it weird, that’s all.”
“It’s fine, dude. Look at me. I’m not freaking out.” He was just doing a good job hiding it. Stan hated seeing Kyle cry, emotional, probably still feverish and nauseated, trying to get up in the middle of the night and falling on his knee, just the perfect storm of fucked up shit. But Kyle needed to stay calm, above all else. “What did you need, dude? Let me help you.”
“Water,” Kyle mumbled dejectedly.
“And guess what? You have me for that.” Stan carefully felt around his husband’s leg. “Can I turn a light on?”
Kyle responded by throwing up into the trash can, which had Stan gagging too. Fuck. Honestly, he was surprised he lasted so long without sympathy puking. “Hold on, baby.”
Stan rushed to the bathroom to empty his own stomach, somehow only just noticing that he still hadn’t put a shirt on from earlier. And Kyle hadn’t said anything about him wearing “outside pants” in bed, either, which was probably the best indicator of how sick he was.
Flushing down the panic induced vomit, Stan stood and glared at his reflection while he rinsed his mouth out, gulping a few handfuls of water from the sink. He had to keep it together. He needed a plan. Okay. Get Kyle back in bed, check his temperature and blood sugar, go downstairs to fill up his water and feed Moose, go from there.
Kyle had curled up on the floor back in the bedroom, and Moose had the zoomies. Stan sighed.
“Dude, okay, let’s get up.”
“Moving sucks ass.”
“I know it does, babe, but the bed is better than the floor.”
“Quit being right,” Kyle mumbled, allowing himself to be helped back under the covers. Stan snagged his readers from the nightstand, flipping on the lamp and grabbing the thermometer too.
“Okay, melmë, let’s see.”
Kyle smiled a little. “You look like a dad.”
“I am a dad,” he reminded him. Even if he’d bemoaned needing reading glasses and his body getting softer with age, his sentimental side was happy he had made it this far in life, especially with Kyle at his side. “Our son is bouncing off the walls as we speak. Open.”
Down to 100.3, thank whoever the fuck was up there. Maybe he should be thanking Kyle’s God, not having any attachment to one of his own. When he’d first started AA and found that part of the whole thing was putting things in the hands of a higher power, he had posed the question of what to do if you weren’t particularly religious to his sponsor. Mark had said “hell, put your faith in the doorknob if you want. Got you in here, didn’t it?”
“What’s the damage?” Kyle inquired.
“Definitely better. You want to check your levels or can I?”
Kyle slowly opened his eyes. “I got it, sweetheart, you’ve been doing so much.”
“Because I want to.”
“I’m difficult.”
Stan brought Kyle’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “It so isn’t your fault that you got sick, or that you hurt your knee, or that you have diabetes. In sickness and in health, right?” Kyle’s fond grin only grew, and Stan decided to let up on the overbearingness. He snatched Moose up quickly on the cat’s next lap around the room. “I’m filling your water and feeding the dragon, okay? Be right back.”
So he had sweat out most of the fever, it seemed like. Judging by how sticky he felt, Kyle was fairly certain he was over the worst. At least in terms of the fucking stomach flu. His leg was a different story.
It was dim in the bedroom with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the window, and the soft light from the lamp, but he could feel that he’d aggravated his knee pretty bad. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. The cartilage felt like it was grinding when he shifted. Kyle groaned in frustration, debating trying to hop over to the closet for his brace, but deciding against it, because Stan would flip his lid if he saw him standing. And considering what his blood sugar was at, being vertical was a bad idea anyway.
Said husband returned to the room. “I come bearing gifts for the king!”
Dork. Freshly refilled water, a KMBS, sleeve of crackers. Stan presented the juice. “Your elixir, melda târ. And-“ he beelined for the top of the closet, clearly having read Kyle’s mind.
“Thank you, my most dutiful and trusted of knights.” Kyle let him secure the knee brace, watching as those careful, strong, gentle hands worked, as Stan leaned down to kiss his leg when he was done. His Stan. His sweet Sir Marshwalker.
“Oh, shit, dude, are you crying? Does it hurt that much?” Stan was up by his face again. Kyle shook his head.
“It’s not that; I just- I really fucking love you,” he sobbed.
“Aw, baby, come here.” Stan climbed into bed and wrapped around him again, avoiding touching his husband’s stomach or leg. A little jingle of Moose’s collar announced their boy’s return to the bedroom, a tiny *prrrt* as the cat settled back at Kyle’s side. “You’re not as warm as you were, Ky, I think you’re getting better. That’s good, my love, you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Kyle murmured against him, damp eyelashes tickling Stan’s chest. “You still don’t have a shirt on.”
Stan laughed. So he had noticed. “You complaining?”
“You know I’m not.”
#gaywads#bedtime stories with PCE#for Ana my love#OrangeJuiceVerse#again idk how to tag this#style#them#south park#my shit#emeto tw#illness#chronic pain#whump#more bullshit#lmm voice: look at my son#look at this i learned something today ass bitch#i spy an elf king#fanfiction#my wriitng#sorry for all the vomit in this dude#also this shit#self indulgent#as fuck#PCE stfu abt OJV Kyle’s bad knee#here we goooo#yea the title is a direct throam reference and I’m not sorry
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How sweet it is to be loved by them part 3
It was another long day ahead of him, Zoro had been using this time for mediating and training his observation haki. But he missed his husband. He's missed traveling and testing his skills. Curly had promised spicy and soy raw marinated carb in his onigri tonight, so he had that to look forward to. Sanjis scent had long faded, the omega always careful about leaving a trail.
A familer presonos tip toed closer to where he was tied up. The little girl he had saved crept towards him as two unfamiliar people preed from over the wall. As she came closer, he could see she held aloft two lumpy balls of rice in her tiny hands. She wasn't safe. There were marines crawling all around this place, and he didn't want her to be hurt.
“Go away,” He told her before she could say anything. The marines here were under command of someone who cares not for the weak and small.
“I burghtt you food Mr. Marimo, I worked really hard on this,” Rika ignored him. She must be spending too much time with Sanji if she was calling him Marimo. He could smell hints of him along with her mother. Pups always had a soft muted scent. They smelt more like their parents and the people they spent time with. “Please eat it. You must be really, really hungry,”
“I'm not hungry,” He should be more than he was, but his husband kept him from going hungry. He would have gone without, but Curly wouldn't hear of it.
“It was my first time making them, I watched mom and Mr. Sanji a whole lot first,”
“Scram! Go on, get outta here!” He growled menacingly at her. He could feel them drawing near. She had to get out before they found her. But she only shook her head and stepped closer, still her eyes wide and far to trusting. He couldn't remember a time when neither his nor Sanji's eyes were that innocent and naive. He hoped they stayed that way for a long time to come. “Leave or I'll kill you!” Sanji would kick him if he heard him say it, but at this point, time was running out.
“Roronoa Zoro! Is that really any way to talk to a kid? Or are you working together and worried you'll get caught?” The little fucker who put him here suanted over in a guady suit or at least that's what curly called it anyway and reeking of perfume. He was flanked as always by a few Marines to weak and lazy to do anything on his own. “Oh what's this? Thouse sure do look good,” The anyoing fucker stole one of balls of rice and took a bite.
“Hey! That's not for you!” Rika cried out.
“Disgusting!” He spit the food out. “It's to dam sweet! Did you use sugar instead of slat!?” He screamed at the little girl. Zoro wanted to smack the shit out of the guy. His swords were too good to cover with his blood.
“But I thought they would taste better if they were sweet,” She told him, who knows maybe she could turn them into a dessert. Zoro hated sweet thing but he knew better than to waste food and to yell at an inceont child…he was only doing it to try and save her.
The blond with the ass for a face samtched the other ball of rice from her hands and therw both om the ground and stomped on them both. What the fuck was worng with him!? Ever before meeting his husband, even if he didn't know why Sanji and Zeff were against food waste he hated it to. After his prants died and before the dojo had taken him in he hadn't know when his next meal would be. He had gone to sleep many a night curled up with an empty belly.
“But I worked so hard to make thouse,” Rika knelt next to the dirty rice crying. Thire was nothing he could do, nothing that wouldn't make this worse.
#one piece#fanfic#alpha beta omega#roronoa zoro#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#zoro#black leg sanji#zoro x sanji#monkey d luffy#luffy#luffy x sanji#luffy x zoro#zosan#married zosan#zolu#lusan#zolusan#monster trio#alpha luffy#alpha zoro#omega sanji#how sweet it is to be loved by them
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