#i have been having the worst migraine all week </3

[sitpwgs]

Hi! It was my mom's bday yesterday so that's why I didn't reply. That's so cool that you're going with someone who didn't get to go and experiencing it for the first time and to bring your mom to the other show. I didn't think to bring my mom but that's way too long for her in a theater but might eventually watch it if it comes to streaming...and I hope it does! I think it will sometimes eventually. Also..I ordered the pink vinyl! I think it was a good cover and I didn't want to miss out this time. I hope you knew about it cuz I know Taylor didn't post it on her account. I love the color too! What do you think of the new beach aesthetic for the album? I know some people said it's so different than big city album..but I always kinda thought it was both too in a way. Or like..the city was just because that's where she was living at the time in her life more than the actual songs on the album. But I still love all the covers!

Did you get a chance to listen to Guts yet? I did and I liked it! I also think bad idea right is just okay and sounds a lot like brutal to me but vampire did grow on me a lot! I think there's a mix of pop punk and ballads in this album though and you might still enjoy it. I feel like half of my favorites were the pop punk ones and some were also the ballads. I noticed she has more relatable or different topics in this album compared to sour which made me think I liked it more. Like I was explaining, I think I just prefer that in songs and liked it more than Maisie's album on the first listen but it could be a little similar..maybe? Some people also compare Olivia to Billie Eillish and also Taylor. But I'm not trying to compare too much and they do have different styles..in lyrics and music, and I like both! I also prefer lyrics to music in songs since I like every genre..so usually the sound will eventually grow on me so maybe it will for you too. Also with lyrics, I listen to a lot of alternative music and there usually aren't very specific detailed lyrics most of the time so it's probably just a genre thing and sometimes more about the feeling. But my sister also said some of the songs were lacking emotion compared to sour and I kinda agree with that too. I'd be curious to know what you think but overall I liked it! Totally agree about Vertigo and it's cool that Taylor posted about it!

Ya I love dance heavy shows too..especially the ones you mentioned..and how well those revivals were, compared to the movie too. I'm so sorry you didn't get to see it..I had actually only seen the movie so I loved seeing it on stage and how different and exciting it was since the movie cut stuff out, and the acting was good. That video looks very cheap with no effort in set, acting or costumes so that really sucks! Ooh I have not looked at it yet but I totally will and I have only briefly heard of Marie Dancing still but that's good to know. I just realized most Sondheim shows have barely any dancing..lol. Also I am excited to listen to the Sweeney cast recording that just came out too!

Thanks for the recs! I will try to read as much as I can. I was really stuck on murder mystery and was originally just gonna do vague mystery but realized I own Arsenic and Adobo so that helps. I'm also not really into horror but do have something by Stephen King..I will try to find something else since it can be long.Also the witches one..but I liked your recs. I just realized I'll give you the Sun has a yellow cover..and you'll miss me when I'm gone does remind me of fall for some reason but I'm going to read it anyway. I did not know much about These Violent Delights and not really into fantasy but I heard good things and I do have both books. With autumn romance, I was wondering if Business or Pleasure counts..kinda? That's another book I still haven't finished. But if the Night Circus counts that's fine too! And ya..wuthering heights has been on my list for a while and now it sort of gives me a reason to read it..which is what's cool about the reading challenge..and also reading different books and genres. It keeps it interesting. Do you still read books at the same time for this or is it more one at a time for you? I'm trying to decide what strategy is best. I think reading one book has been working for me with Mistakes Were Made and I'll probably be finished soon, but with so many books..it also makes sense to start as many as you can..and I'm already in the middle of some of them so that's a good thing haha. I hope you are having a lovely weekend too and enjoy going to Vancouver!!!🩷🩷🩷

helloooo! i hope your mom had a lovely birthday and that you had a good weekend! i did get the pink vinyl! i was waiting for it!! i've ordered the pink one, and a friend was really kind and ordered me the yellow one. i also ordered the blue one, but i think i'll end up cancelling that one! i just don't have room for all of these vinyls haha. i really like the beach aesthetic for 1989, honestly! i think a good half of the songs do remind me of the city, and the other half remind me of the beach, so i think it's a fun! i can't wait to see what polaroids we get too!! which cover is your favorite so far? on another note, can i just say how lovely the vinyl colors are? i don't have a soft yellow or a pink vinyl in that shade yet so i'm super super excited to see how they look in person! some of my favorite vinyls are pink, so i'm just very excited!

i listened to guts a bit! i think it'll take some time to grow on me, but i was expecting that! i think a lot of olivia's stuff is very catchy, but i need some time to get into it! my top three currently are making the bed, teenage dream, and logical, but i also do like pretty isn't pretty a lot, and lacy is growing on me. i'm also very curious to see how olivia grows as a performer (i think she's really lovely, but i think she — like most artists that got big in the last three years — doesn't have a very strong stage presence, which makes sense given [gestures vaguely] everything). i don't listen to a lot of billie eilish but i really loved the song she did for the barbie movie, and i wish i got to see her at lollapalooza because i've heard she's a phenomenal live performer! speaking of vertigo, did you see the tiktok griff posted about vertigo/clean? it's so cute 🥺

i loved marie dancing still! it's one of my little musicals that i love very, very dearly (i saw it seven times in the span of three weeks — will never do that again for any musical + had a lot of lovely little circumstances/things fall into place that made it work out) but also a musical that i think should never go anywhere or at least needs very very heavy work before it should have another run! i haven't gotten a chance to listen to the new sweeney yet but hopefully soon!! i was at the bookstore today and didn't realize they released parade on vinyl, and then realized i also haven't listened to the new parade revival album yet either so i have to do that too! i just haven't been very good at listening to new cast recordings lately. i think the last thing i listened to was west end bonnie and clyde, and that was just because caitlyn kept posting about it! i will try to listen to the new sweeney todd soon and then we can discuss!!

arsenic and adobo is a very cozy murder mystery! i don't really read a lot of murder mysteries, unless they're cozy but i really liked it! i don't remember when business or pleasure is set, but if it takes place during the autumn months i'd count it as an autumnal romance! the witches one ... the very secret society of irregular witches (adult) is one of my FAVORITE books; it's so cozy and so lovely, but i also really liked the witch haven (ya) — some of my friends were let down by the sequel but i really liked how it ended! and the night circus is the loveliest autumn romantasy in my opinion!!! my friends and i are doing a traveling annotation book cub and one of them picked the night circus and i'm so excited because it'll give me a chance to reread (and to also count it for the readathon)!

i've been having the most chaotic reading schedule! i've mostly been jumping from book to book based on vibes, but sometimes i'll also just sit down and read a book in an entire sitting! so it really is just based on how much time i have/how i'm feeling that day. i also keep one book in my car, and one book in my mom's, and so if i have any time just waiting around i'll read a few pages of it (the book eaters is in my car, for the throne is in my mom's car) but that doesn't always work very well (and sometimes i'm in the mood to read it so i have to go to the garage to get it haha). i've got serpent & dove on audiobook, and then just started annotating seven year slip for traveling book club! i've been reading a chunk of les mis each month, but haven't felt in the mood for it this month yet, so i'm holding off! technically i started annotating the starless sea for a friend in january but then kept pushing it off, and i still have to get back into a fragile enchantment (arc) but it's not out for a few more months so i have time/have arcs coming out before that that i should get to! andddd i started harlem after midnight the other day but only got a chapter in and then wasn't feeling too well so i put it down and now i just want to get back to seven year slip haha!

vancouver was fun! and i've had a good weekend, health issues aside 🤍 hope you're having a good day and you have a great week!!!

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

[bucksangel]

Okay but imagine bunny has just been feeling so ill :((( and she’s so so sorry Bucky has to take care of her like this :( but she still tries to make him meals and keep up with her chores and be good for him :( even though he’s adamant that she not lift a finger until she’s better

Maybe he comes home one day and she’s crying and she’s apologizing because she knows he’s so stressed already with work and she’s just so so sorry for adding to that :(

And he’s just like “what are you talking about? why are you sorry”

And then she just hands him a positive pregnancy test and keeps apologizing for giving him one more thing to worry about

But he’s just immediately thrilled and is already thinking about how to decorate the nursery and he can’t wait to fuck the tears away while calling her his little mama

Anyway… I’ll see myself out… splendid writing as always my dear!!! <3

I’m literally laying on my stomach with my legs in the air and i’m kicking them and giggling, you’re so kind. And i looooove this idea so here’s a lil drabble :) (also you are always welcome to come back😭😭)

Title: An Odd Flu

pairing: sofdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: 18+ so minors dni, mentions of vomiting and being sick, so much fluff, minor angst, hints of abortion though it’s not said outright (only 2-3 sentences), soft love-making, sir kink, petnames (bunny, mama (but not in a mommy kink way)), fingering, dom!bucky, sub!reader, aftercare

main masterlist | run little bunny masterlist

-

Originally, you thought it was an odd case of the flu. You weren’t running a fever and you weren’t feeling overheated or freezing cold, but you were so tired all the time that you’d have to take a midday nap in order to stay awake long enough to have dinner with James. Then it was the vomiting, you’d wake up around seven in the morning and rush to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach.

What made things better was that James had been there for you, waiting on you hand and foot whenever he was home. He’d draw you baths and massage your back to relieve your sore muscles. He’d make you soup and tea, going so far as to feed you by hand. He would even cancel meetings if you were feeling especially awful.

But that’s where the problem lies. Leading up to your flu James had been stressed. There was meeting after meeting, paperwork the height of the Empire State Building, and calls coming in after the previous one ended. You already felt physically bad, but the fact that he’s become stretched even thinner has you feeling bad emotionally.

This morning in particular has been the worst of the last three weeks. You gagged when you went downstairs and smelt the eggs James was cooking and had to rush to the bathroom. Your headache felt more like a migraine and all you really want to do is curl up next to James in bed and have him rub your back.

But that’s not possible today. James had a meeting that he had been trying to organize for the past month and it was with people outside of the U.S., so there was no way he could miss it. He still offered to stay home anyway and let his right-hand man, Steve, take over, but you nearly cried when he suggested it. You didn’t want to mess anything up just because you were sick. So, at your insistence, he left with a kiss on your forehead and made you promise to call him if anything got worse.

The only stipulation was that you had to see a doctor while he was gone. His personal doctor, because of course he’s rich enough to have a personal doctor, agreed to come over and check you out.

It was when she got there that things started to feel… off. She noted your symptoms with a glint in her eye that told you she immediately knew what was going on. When she put away her tools, she reached into a different pocket in her bag, giving it to you with a small, knowing smile.

It was a pregnancy test. And suddenly you’re questioning everything. The morning sickness, the aversion to foods you once craved, the crying spells.

Then, you remember your period was supposed to start two days ago. When it didn’t come you just assumed it was because you were ill. Now, though, things are making sense.

That doesn’t stop the insecurities from creeping in. James has been so busy with work lately and this is just one more stressor to add to that. And on top of that, you haven’t been able to do as much cleaning or cooking as you normally do, as much as you want to do. James has been insistent that you not overexert yourself by doing your daily tasks, but you feel so bad that he has to come home from a long day of work to the house being a mess.

When you go to the bathroom, your hands are shaking as you hold the test in the proper position. You’ve always wanted kids, and you can’t imagine having babies with anyone else except James. He always takes care of you, is always lovely and patient even when he’s exhausted and snapping at everyone else, he’s the perfect man and would make a perfect father.

Your hands continue to shake as you wash them, and your whole body vibrates with nerves as you walk back out into the living room to see Doctor Romanoff packing the rest of her things. Her eyes are sympathetic when she senses your anxiety, and she carefully takes the test from you.

The five-minute wait is agonizing, you’re unable to sit still so you’ve been pacing back and forth around the living room awaiting the results. And when the timer goes off, your whole body goes rigid. Your back is to Doctor Romanoff when you hear her hum thoughtfully.

You know what that sound means.

It takes all your effort to turn around, but when you do you find her arm outstretched, offering you the test.

“I’m not sure if it’s the answer you want, but I’m here for whatever you need.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to take the test from her. And, with a big breath, you look down to see the little pink plus sign staring back at you, and tears immediately fill your eyes. You know that James wants kids, he’s very bad at dropping hints when you go to the store and pass by the baby aisle. But, he’s overworked right now, constantly answering calls and responding to emails, and you’re doubting if now is the right time to have a baby.

“Um, th-thank you,” You say weakly, looking up at her with a wavering smile. She nods, and you lead her to the front door and wave her goodbye.

The tears start falling when the door closes behind her, and you quickly rush to your room. You’re staring at the test through your clouded vision, worrying yourself over how to tell him. You know you need to, you want to. So, once you’ve calmed down you pull out your laptop and search for different ideas.

“Bunny, I’m home!” James sounds tired, exhausted really, though you hope the smell of chicken and vegetables will help him wake up a little.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Your hands are shaking so badly when you take the pan out of the oven, and you have to hurry to place it on the counter before you drop it. Suddenly, James’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and tucking his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume.

“What did I say about overexerting yourself?” His voice is soft, even though he’s clearly tired you know he’s about to march you upstairs and tuck you into bed. “You need your rest.”

“Well, I feel bad for not cleaning as much as I used to, and you’ve been so tired lately.” You pause, taking a large breath and turning in his arms so you can loop your arms around his neck. Your eyes start to water when you see his eyebrows furrow with concern. “Besides, it’s not going to go away any time soon. Google says that morning sickness can last up to 20 weeks and your doctor says I’m only five weeks along.”

James opens his mouth to say something, then promptly closes it when he registers your words. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his hold on you slightly loosening as he flounders for a minute. You can see in his eyes that he’s trying to piece together all of your symptoms from the last few weeks, and he’s a smart man, so it’s not a surprise that he figures it out pretty quickly.

“Are… Are you…?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Time seems to stand still, James seems to have frozen in place trying to sink in your words. And the longer the silence goes on the more worried you become, and a few tears slide down your cheeks.

“I-I know this isn’t the ideal time, and you’re extremely busy with work, but it just happened. I’m so sorry, I know this is just going to make you even more stressed, and I-I don’t know what you want to do, but –” You’re cut off by James pressing his lips to yours, his arms tightening around your body and pulling you into his chest.

The kiss is frantic, desperate, excited. And when James pulls back you can’t help but follow his lips with yours, trying to keep the kiss going. But James doesn’t give in, instead, he leans back enough to be able to look into your eyes. And his are glassy, filled with unshed tears as he brings up one hand to brush away yours with his thumb.

“Fuck, bunny. Don’t be sorry, never be sorry for this. Bunny, you’re – you’re giving me everything I’ve wanted since I first saw you.”

Loosening his arms around your waist, he drops to his knees, placing one hand on your hip and covering your stomach with the other. He stares at your belly with amazement, then pushes up your shirt so he can kiss your belly. Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, rubbing his scalp and running your fingers through it. After a couple of minutes, he finally moves back to look up at you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He smiles wide when you nod, more tears involuntarily sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m really pregnant.” Your voice wavers, but you’re finally at ease, no longer worried about how James would react.

“Fuck, bunny,” He whispers, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing your hips. He leans down, brushing his lips over yours and smiling a little when you whine. “You’re going to be such a pretty mama.”

James is unable to stop himself from lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. You bury your face in his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin until he gets to your room and lays you gently on the bed.

He doesn’t immediately climb onto the bed, he just stands at the end of the bed and stares at you with a mixture of love and lust. A few moments of silence goes by before you finally whine, wiggling your hips to hopefully entice him.

It works. James shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, smirking at you the whole time because your eyes are roaming over his bare chest, and you’re practically drooling when he gets to his pants.

“See something you like?” He chuckles when you glare at him.

“You know I do, so please hurry up. I want you inside me.” While you were teasing, you know you’ve made a mistake when his smile drops and one of his eyebrows raises.

“Where are those manners, bunny? Just because I knocked you up doesn’t mean I’m not still your Sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir! I-I didn’t mean to - I just -“ You stumble over your words, not worried about him punishing you physically, but you know he’s not above edging you for hours on end, and you’re sure you’ll actually cry if that happens.

“I know, bunny,” James coos, finally stepping out of his pants and boxers and kicking them to the side. Before you can say anything he grabs you by your ankles, then tugs you down the bed until your legs are dangling off the edge. “It’s okay, you’re still my good little bunny.”

You moan at his words, a pleasant fuzziness clouding your head. And then James helps you sit up a little so he can unzip your dress — his favorite floral one — and slide the straps down your arms. When he lays you back down he pulls the dress down and off your body, groaning when he sees your bare body, just as he likes it. One of his rules about living with him is that you’re not to wear panties or a bra, you have to always be ready for him.

You and James have never been more grateful for it.

“Fuck, bunny,” James groans and takes hold of his achingly hard cock, squeezing the base. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Going to make such a beautiful mama.”

“Sir, please.” Your eyes water, this time from frustration. You need him inside you immediately.

“Okay, bunny, okay, don’t worry your pretty little head.” James climbs onto the bed and arranges your bodies so he’s sitting against the headboard and you’re sitting on his lap, your back to his chest and your pussy resting over his throbbing dick.

It takes everything in you not to roll your hips against his, the only reason you don’t is because you want to be good for him. He seems to recognize this and lovingly kisses your cheek, humming softly.

“My good girl, my perfect girl,” James mumbles into your ear, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs and spreading them wide open, hooking your ankles around his calves. He drags one hand up to rest lightly on your stomach, his other stroking your thigh, climbing higher and higher until you’re practically vibrating with need.

“Sir.” You’re already sounding pathetic, but, to be fair, James has that effect on you. With only a few touches he can render you dumb, but you love it.

“What do you need, bunny?” James asks as though he doesn’t already know what you need. What you crave.

“You, sir. Always you.” Tears spring to your eyes, damn your hormones.

James sighs behind you, trailing his lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“You have me, pretty mama. You always have me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” His words make you sniffle, a few tears sliding down your cheeks.

You’re so lucky.

“Come here, bunny.” James urges you off his lap, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you. He leans on one elbow and reaches up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears, smiling softly when you nuzzle his palm.

“Are you going to let me love on you, pretty mama?”

“Y-Yes, please. Please!” You’re slipping even further into that soft space where nothing else matters except for James, except for Sir.

James leans down, brushing his lips against yours and chuckling when you whine. The moment he finally kisses you he slides his hand down your neck to your breasts, lighting tugging at one of your nipples before sliding down further until he can spread your legs. He only pulls back when his hand makes it to the inside of one of your thighs, cooing when you whimper.

“It’s okay, bunny. I’m going to give you everything you need.” He’s slow and careful when he inches closer to your soaking pussy, running his thumb along your lips and dipping in to gently rub your clit.

He teases you for a long while, staring into your eyes when he dips two fingers in your hole easily due to how wet you are. He’s slow and methodical as he slips in another finger, kissing your cheeks every so often to catch stray tears. When he finally decides you’ve had enough teasing he starts thrusting his fingers faster, crooking them upwards to hit your special spot.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to cum, both because of James’ expert fingering and because of his husky voice whispering praises in your ear. And it’s an intense orgasm, your body going so far as to squirt liquid all over his hand.

It does take a bit for you to come down from your high, your mind is too clouded and fuzzy from pleasure. But when you do come to your senses you’re in the bathtub, your back to his chest as you soak in the warm water. James’ hands are on your stomach, rubbing over it as though it holds a priceless gem.

And, to be fair, there is. The little baby growing inside you is going to be the most loved child in the world.

“James?” Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“Yes, bunny?” He kisses your neck, and you lean against him further.

“What, um—“ You wiggle a little, feeling his now only semi-hard cock against your lower back. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” James hums, suckling at your skin. “Tonight is about you, pretty mama.”

You’ll never understand how it’s possible to love someone as much as you love James, let alone be loved by such a perfect man, but you won’t question it.

tagging: @hisredheadedgoddess28

[poppadom0912]

Is it too late?

Warnings: Mentions of periods, hospitals, surgery, pain and illness

Summary: When your older brother is a fancy surgeon, being sick is the last thing you want.  

Requested by @1chicago5021

A/N: I'm still alive people. I had a sudden burst of inspiration and thought I'd finally get all these requests done before the next round of exams. I am in a lesson right now so I can’t do the usual aesthetic collage I always do. This was sent quite a while ago but I actually had so much fun writing this so thank you! I hope this lives up to your standards <3

*****

Two weeks ago now, your body randomly started not working the way you wanted it to, but you put all the blame on your period whose cramps hadn't been very forthcoming.

The painkillers were a coming in at a constant stream, hot water bottles never having the chance to go room temperature.

Your never-ending migraines and 24/7 cramps were a constant, so you expected to feel relief once you were back to normal. But that never came because this week started and somehow, you felt even worse.

When you woke up this morning to your throat feeling weird, you knew something was wrong when you drank water and the feeling didn’t go away.  

Despite that, you went to school anyways, bidding your brother goodbye when he dropped you off, completely unaware of your wellbeing. But you couldn’t blame the guy, he was stressed enough over work as it is, you didn’t need to add to his already overflowing workload.  

You only felt worse as the day progressed. It was only spring, nearing summer, but your body temperature wouldn’t stop fluctuating. One minute you were shivering and asking to borrow your friend's hoodie but the next you were sweating like you had just finished a marathon and was trying to get rid of as many layers as possible.  

The cramps were immense. The worst you ever had and to consider you just got off your period, you weren’t a stranger to post period cramps, but this was on another level. You hadn’t been in this much pain ever even while on your reds. None of the pain killers your friends kindly provided for you alleviated the pain. Death would feel ever so sweet right about now.  

You knew you were seriously sick when you were on the verge of collapsing at lunch. Your friends all shouted in alarm when you faltered on your feet in the cafeteria. You ignored their efforts and attempts to get you to the nurse's office. There wasn’t long left of the school day, there wasn’t any point in leaving with barely two hours left.  

As soon as you got home, you fell face first into bed. As soon as your head hit the pillow and you pulled the covers over your body with however much strength remained in your arms that got heavier as the day went on.  

You were in a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your dreams were non-existent. You weren’t too sure what time it was, but you felt someone shaking you, going from gentle to a hand tightly holding your shoulder, a muffled voice inaudible as you came in and out of your slumber.  

Their gestures were painful, but you didn’t have it in you to tell the intruder as you struggled to even muster a groan. Your eyes fluttered, face digging even deeper into the pillow as if to suffocate yourself. That was all the indication the person needed to shake you harder, adamant to wake you up.  

With a blocked nose, breathing out through your mouth proved itself to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. And stuffing your face into your pillow might not have been the best idea taking that into consideration.

Their voice sounded way too far away, as though they weren’t in the room with you. One second they were roughly holding you, the next, all pressure ceased but the pain didn’t.

Before you could even register what they were doing now, your eyes heavy with sleep dropped once more as you were enveloped into darkness again.

*****

Over the past two weeks, Connor had noticed your depleting energy but when the mood swings came along with your hot water bottles, he didn’t think any much more of the matter.

But then you showed no signs of improvements and at first, he could hardly notice. You hid it quite well at first but as the week progressed, it was apparent to him you were getting sick, and you were too stubborn to admit that to your surgeon brother.

Nonetheless, things didn’t look too bad that staying home was necessary. You were managing quite well, going to school the entire week without complaints, so he found no reason to intervene into something he knew would end up in an argument that would result in you holding a grudge and not talking to him for a few days.

He dropped you off and drove to work expecting nothing. You smiled at him when you left the car, and nothing seemed physically wrong when you picked up the pace to meet your friends.

His twelve-hour shift seemed to never end. When he had a moment to himself, he messaged you as he waited for his coffee, staring at his message that sat alone with no replies for hours. School has finished, you were sure to be home now, so why weren’t you answering?

He didn’t think much of it till he was meant to go home at twelve. He was all ready standing at his locker but then Maggie called his name and he saw several ambulances piling up outside.

As amazing as he was, his attention couldn’t be in two places at once and unfortunately for you, car crashes had more significance in this situation. But as soon as this was all over, you’d be his number one priority once more.

It was all over six hours later when he came out of the second surgery he had to take lead in.

Stepping out of the surgery theatre, he thanked all his co-workers and was dashing away to collect his things, not wanting to be here any longer. Having time to finally check his phone again, his concern skyrocketed when you still hadn’t replied to his messages.

Waving off the few staff remaining in the emergency department, Connor wasted no time in driving off. His adrenaline had yet to die down from the rush of a packed-out emergency room and doing several successful surgeries. Adding to this was his building concern for you. Maybe you were just sleeping, and your phone was on charge. Maybe it was on silent, and you didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was stolen, and you couldn’t contact him-

Connor sighed as he parked the car. Wasting no time, his body still thrumming from the surgery high, he walked into the building and took the stairs instead, taking large strides as he skipped every two.

The house was drop dead silent when he opened the door which you hadn’t locked from the inside like you usually would. That and the completely pitch-black apartment was the first things that put him on edge.

He locked the door behind him, walking in further and inspecting the living room and kitchen that didn’t look lived in. Everything was in its same place as he left it in this morning. Closing the blinds in the living room, he walked towards your bedroom, your door slightly ajar which had never been the case since you started living with him. You always shouted at him whenever he left the door even a slither open, you always needed complete darkness to sleep. The tiniest bit of light always hindering your sleeping ability.

Pushing the door open, Connor poked his head inside first to survey the room. He finally let himself relax at the sight of you lying in bed, your figure completely drowning in your duvet. The weird lump in your sheets being the only reason he could identify you.

He felt himself relax, his body physically deflating now that he had eyes on you, knowing for sure that nothing was wrong.

For some reason, your curtains were still open which they never were since you were young, always complaining, once again, that you needed complete darkness to be able to sleep. Closing your curtains, he found your phone on your bedside desk, and it was littered with notifications from not only him but all of your friends too. All of them were asking in variations if you were okay, if you felt better, did you get home safe and how you were feeling.

They were all sent at three in the afternoon. It was now two in the morning.

Concerned at the topic of the messages, Connor came over to the side of the bed you were laying on and placed his hand on your forehead, his eyes widening immediately. He felt himself warming up just from how hot you were.

Sitting down on the space by your knees, Connor shook you gently, trying to rouse you from your apparent very deep sleep but the only movement you made was from what he was doing.

“Y/N? Hey, wake up. Can you get up for me really quick?”

The adrenaline that was just dying down was picking up again along with his heart rate, why weren’t you waking up?

He shook you once again but this time, he was more rough, his worry meaning he gripped your shoulder tightly and shook you with a force that he’d never use on you before as his baby sister.

This time he tried calling you name while he tried getting you up. Lifting the duvet off your body, not only were you shivering but you were sweating a very unusual amount.

Swallowing harshly, Connor tried one more time, calling your name and roughly shaking you. “Come one, I need to you wake up Y/N.”

“Y/N. Y/N get up.”

But you just wouldn’t budge.

Deciding that enough was enough, he scooped you into his arms and it must’ve been the sudden movement that caused you to let out a small whimper in what was clearly pain. It was small but it was the most he’d gotten from you since he got home and that was better than nothing.

Foregoing his jacket, Connor made sure to slip your cardigan over your torso, so you weren’t going to die from the cold outside. He quickly slipped into his own shoes and left the building not a moment later.

*****

No one had been expecting Connor to be back at work so soon, not even him. It was a few minutes to three and the ED was relatively calm taking into account the big accident not too long ago, but Connor was grateful.

Getting out the car, Connor looked into the ED and called for the first person he saw.

“April! Get me a gurney!”

Said nurse was caught completely off guard, jumping from where she stood at the nurse's desk with Will not too standing behind her. He too clearly was confused but Connor had no time to dwell on them.

Not checking if she was listening, Connor rounded the car and picked you back into his arms, your head resting on his bicep and your legs on the inside of his elbow. Slamming the door shut, Connor strode into the emergency department and luckily for him, April and Will were more than ready to help.

“All the gurneys are used up from before, but we’ve got a free bed.” April said, leading the surgeon into an empty treatment room where Will was lowering the bedside rails.

“Talk to me Connor.” Will said, understanding there was no time for formalities when he saw it was you Connor was carrying.

“No clue what happened but she’s as hot as anything, she’s shivering and sweating at the same time and will not wake up for anything.” Connor started, gently laying you down and standing back to let Will and April do their jobs. He was itching to help but physically had to move further away from you so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Pretty sure she’s been sick and in pain for a while now, but she never said anything.” He continued, looking at all the numbers on the machines that were popping up as they were connected to your body. “When I asked last week, she just kept saying it was her period cramps.”

As April hooked you up onto an IV drip, Will started palpating your body in search for any particular place of pain. And when he came to a particular area in your lower abdomen and you cried out, the three of them looked at each other knowingly.

“Kieran should still be on shift.” Connor said, remembering the surgeon he left behind that was in charge and available.

Will nodded in confirmation, “Let’s move.”

*****

Waking up felt different to all the times before. Your levels of disorientation and haziness and confusion were on another level.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the lack of pain. You couldn’t feel not even a pinch in your stomach, maybe it was weird to say but it felt liberating to not be in debilitating pain.

“Oh, thank goodness your awake.” Connor looked dead on his feet in the doorway of the room but the immense relief painting his face was like no other.

You made him feel and look like that- Shit, what happened, what did you do?

Before you could say anything, Connor beat you to it. “How are you feeling? In any pain?”

As he questioned you, a poured you a cup of water, holding it so all you had to do was drink and not need to exert energy that he knew from experience, you didn’t have.

Once again, before you could ask, he answered for you. “It was appendicitis. Your period cramps were in fact your appendix and last night it burst.”

“But it’s all good. We got you into surgery and your appendix is gone as should your pain.”

“Wow.” You said shakily, your voice so quiet from the lack of use.

“Please don’t do that next time.” Connor said, sitting on the empty seat by the bed, taking your hand into his. “Please tell me when you're in pain and when you feel sick. You matter to me; all your small or big problems are mine too. I don’t care how trivial they are.”

Silence followed as he set the glass aside. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo.”

And to say you felt guilty was an understatement.

“Claire’s pissed.” You both winced at the thought of your sister finding out. “She’s going to visit when she’s finished with work. I told her your healthy and out of surgery but she’s still pissed.”

“M’Sorry.” You apologised, voice hoarse and lips chapped. “I didn’t want-“

“Y/N.” Connors face made it look like he was in pain from your admission he cut off. “You’re never a bother to me okay? Me being a doctor is a good thing, use it to your advantage.”

You nodded, confirming to change next time if there was another time. Fingers crossed there isn’t.

“How hard was it to not do the surgery?” You smiled, squeezing his hand and poking his bicep. He was still in his scrubs from his shift last night.

Connor rolled his eyes and groaned. Such a sight made you laugh.

[futurecorps3]

can i request a jj x reader where she keeps saying she's sick but jj doesnt believe it and thinks it's just an excuse to not go to the midsummers or whatever u choose, but then when they both go, she passes out and jj gets worried and protective. thank uuu smm!!

𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: JJ thinks you're lying Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader Warnings: JJ kind of being an ass lmao, sickness, mentions of headaches, reader faints and I think that's it, lmk if I missed any! Word Count: 2.6K Requested: Yes

A/N: Took me a while to figure this one out cause I think J wouldn't be like that in the first place but let's try!! Hope u like, nonnie<3

Everything sucked. There was no way a human could have this bad luck, and Y/N had begun to think the universe had it against her at this point. She had spent almost a month finding the perfect dress and headpiece for Midsummers' night, two months in convincing her parents to let her bring JJ as her plus one and a solid three weeks in convincing JJ.

Only for a mind bending migraine to come storming its way right in the morning. She tried ignoring it for a while, taking some pain-killers to try to ease the pain, but they did absolutely nothing. Her parents had left early to help the Camerons set everything up (sitting around and ordering people) and the party started around five, so she opted for sleeping to see if the headache would subside.

It didn't; she realized right when JJ's booming voice rang through her ears, waking her up. "Figured I'd come down here so we could get ready together!" Her boyfriend said with a grin, holding the tuxedo she had bought for him in his arms. She incorporated from her bed. Standing up with a little dizziness, she couldn't let slide and kissed him as a greeting.

"For an event, it took me days to convince you to go to, you truly are excited." Y/N smiled, feeling a little light-headed. "Did you shower?" She asked as she buried her head in his chest as JJ's arms wrapped around her waist "'Course mamma, just for you... but by the looks of it you haven't" he smiled as his girlfriend hit his chest playfully.

"You're right though, be right back". Y/N stepped in her bathroom as she heard JJ play some music on her speaker. Hopefully, the shower would help the pain she could no longer stand. She tried massaging her scalp and breathe in the scents of her soaps, relax in the water and whatnot but it didn’t help.

She felt as if someone was pushing her eyeballs into the inside her skull while pounding the sides of her head with a hammer, the worst migraine she ever had. Now, this whole thing was important for both Y/N and JJ, as it was the first time they’d be attending an event of this nature together… but she wasn’t sure the headache would allow her.

The thought made her sulk a little, but in the end, the migraine was stronger. She stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel as well as her hair, watching JJ play around with her necklaces and rings. “J, I-I don’t think we can go” she muttered, disappointment clear in her shaking voice when she noticed how his face fell.

“What do you mean?” he sounded almost shocked. “My head’s been hurting like a motherfucker since I woke up, I-I tried taking some painkillers but they worked for shit and-“ “Y/N you ain’t gotta lie… just say you don’t wanna go with me”.

She couldn’t bear thinking JJ thought it had to do with him “Baby no, I-I’m serious! We could stay in and cuddle if you want, maybe watch Top Gun or-“ then he laughed. “Stop pretending”

“What?” “I know you don’t want me to meet all your kook friends and I know you're kind of ashamed of dating me even though you say you aren’t and-“ “What are you talking about!?”

This was a very JJ thing to think. And no, he wasn’t being manipulative. Y/N knew he meant every word he was saying. And that’s what hurt the most. He could get insecure and honestly, she couldn’t blame him. He grew up in a place that condemned him for the blood running through his veins, hearing things like “he’s just like his old man” or “a Maybank after all” when he fucked up.

Yes, he was reckless and stupid, but he was also kind and a good man. Y/N knew he had some reservations coming into this entire relationship with her because being friends differed completely from being boyfriend and girlfriend. The judgments they were to face were clear, but she always reassured him that as long as they were together they’d be okay.

She could see why he’d think that way. “It’s not like that, baby-“ “Except it is” he said, running his hands through his hair and pacing around the room. “Let’s go then” she gave in. Physical pain hurt way more than knowing JJ thought she was embarrassed to be dating him. She could handle it.

“Oh, so suddenly your headache goes away?” He snapped, throwing air quotes in the word headache which made Y/N, who was already getting her hair done, give him a look of “drop it” and he did, kissing her in the cheek before changing into his suit.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When they got there, Y/N’s headache was nowhere near better, but she tried paying no mind to it; what mattered was she was walking down to the party with JJ holding her hand. She squeezed his fingers gently as they approached her parents; him squeezing her's back.

“Hi sweetie!” My mom smiles, hugging her tightly with the sweetest grin and then moves to hug her boyfriend. “JJ, we’re so glad you could make it! Go ahead to our table. It’s four over there and I made sure to seat you with Sarah and Kie”. The woman was always kind to J, making sure he felt welcomed in their lives.

Who was really hard to convince was her dad, always wary of the boys Y/N brings home. Now, him being a pogue well… that stir shit up to say the least. “Thank you” the boy answered her mom, then turning to her dad. “Hello, sir”. Her dad gave JJ a stern look and held out his hand “Hello JJ”. And that was it for him.

As they were walking to their table, Y/N realized her boyfriend’s face fell a little at the interaction with her dad. “Hey hey, it’s okay… you know how he gets,” she quickly assured and he directed those sad blue eyes to her “I just don’t get why he doesn’t like me” he sighed, a sad chuckle leaving his lips.

“You don’t usually care what people think of you, J. Why do yo-“ “I care because he’s your dad! I don’t care if Pope’s parents or- or Kie’s don’t like me, I couldn’t give less of a fuck but not with you. He’s your dad and as much as we know he’s unfair with me for being a pogue, I-I would like him to like me”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words, making her feet stop next to the dancefloor, her headache pulsating at the strong wave of emotions. “We can’t make him like you but when we get married…” JJ laughed at that, placing big hands around her waist and smiling “When we get married, he’ll realize I couldn’t wish for a better person to be with me forever. Because you love me, and I love you.” She grinned, pecking his nose to then resume their way to their seats.

When a waiter approached them and Y/N ordered water instead of some champagne, JJ looked at her funny. "Water? Who are you? Kie?" He joked, the aforementioned throwing a small napkin to his head "At least I'm not going to die of some weird liver disease like you J!" Kiara countered, giggling slightly. "I told you I'm not feeling well" Y/N mumbled, and before he could say anything, she joined Sarah and Kie's conversation.

As the conversations flowed and laughter filled the air, Y/N valiantly pushed through the discomfort, not wanting her condition to dampen the joyous occasion. Engaging in lighthearted banter with her friends, she managed to mask the underlying pain she felt. Yet, behind her radiant smile, an unrelenting throbbing persisted, casting a shadow on her otherwise vibrant spirit.

As Y/N's voice intertwined with the playful chatter, a sudden surge of dizziness overwhelmed her senses. Her head felt heavy, as if wrapped in a dense fog, and her vision blurred around the edges. The familiar pain that had been nagging her intensified, clawing at her temples.

She desperately clung to the facade of normalcy, but her body betrayed her resilience. Y/N's grip on the conversation faltered, her words becoming muddled as her mind struggled to keep pace. Her friends noticed the change in her demeanor, a fleeting flicker of concern crossing their faces. "You 'kay Y/N/N?" John B asked.

In that moment, Y/N's world seemed to spin out of control. Sensations of disorientation and weakness cascaded through her body, leaving her feeling adrift and vulnerable. The sounds of her friends' voices morphed into a distant echo, as if they were calling to her from a great distance.

The once vibrant party faded into the background, overshadowed by the overwhelming intensity of Y/N's migraine. Her focus narrowed to a single point of struggle, her every instinct urging her to find solace and relief from the torment that gripped her. "Baby?" She heard JJ mumble as her consciousness teetered on the precipice. Y/N's body succumbed to the overpowering sensations, causing her to lose consciousness.

A profound stillness enveloped Y/N as she drifted away, suspended in a momentary limbo between wakefulness and oblivion. Time became a fleeting concept, and the outside world ceased to exist for those brief moments.

In that suspended state, Y/N's body rested, unaware of the commotion that unfolded around her. JJ held her full weight in his arms, shock written all over his features. "Y/N! Baby, wake up!" he hopelessly pleads, the attention of the nearby tables focusing entirely on him. Kiara rushed over to her as well as Sarah and John, all in a frenzy, knowing nothing of what was going on.

"John, go get the twinkie! Ambulances will take a while to come to this side of the island." JJ hurried, feeling everyone's gaze on him but caring only for the peaceful look on his girlfriend's face. John B nodded and left quickly to get the van as close as he could. Then, guilt came rushing through J's veins like injected adrenaline; this was hois fault.

Y/N had tried to tell him she wasn't feeling okay, but he was too petty and way more inside his head when she was just being honest. He felt a sting in his eyes and as soon as he blinked; the tears stained Y/N's dress. "I'm so sorry baby" he whispered, Sarah and Kie looking puzzled at him asking for forgiveness at a time like this.

"JJ, this is not your fault" the blonde said, rubbing his back reassuringly but before she could continue, he began shaking his head "Y-You don't understand, she told me her head was hurting but-but I was stupid and thought she didn't wanna be seen with me and-" a sob interrupted his sentence, making Kie hug him tightly. "It's still not your fault".

He cried for a few more seconds, holding Y/N close so he could feel her still steady heartbeat against his ear until John B came rolling down in the twinkie. JJ noticed Y/N's dad approaching when he lifted up his girlfriend, but he needed to get her to the hospital quick. "I'll get her to the hospital sir, meet you there," He said in a panic, his friends and him getting in the van and speeding off to the emergency room.

He felt his heart sink as John drove and he could notice Y/N's breath quicken, then falter. JJ rarely felt guilt, but this was the way the universe was punishing him, he figured. "Hurry" he mumbled, knowing his best friend was doing his best not to crash while getting his girl to the hospital as soon as he could.

Eventually they got there. Everything from when the car stopped to him sitting next to her bed was a blur for JJ; he had a vague memory of the doctors saying she passed out from the migraine and dehydration, nothing fatal but if JJ hadn't been there to catch her when she blacked out it could've caused a concussion.

The pogues stayed there against the professional's advice, saying they should go home and sleep, that Y/N would be awake by morning and they would be able to talk to her then. They refused. Kie and Pope (who got there as soon as he heard the news) cuddled on a couch. Sarah and John did the same as JJ just sat next to Y/N's bed, holding her hand.

The doctors instructed her boyfriend to give her water as soon as she woke up and notify a nurse that would help her immediately, but in the meantime, all they could do was wait. Her parents walked in to find a room of teenagers sleeping at around eleven. Her mom woke JJ up so he could fill them in.

"Mrs. Y/L/N... hi" he sleepily mumbled, rearranging the wild mess his hair was by brushing it back to later rub the sleep out of her face. Her father was standing behind her with an angry expression, and before Y/N's mother could speak, he approached JJ menacingly. "You explain to me right this second why you didn't ask me what was to be done as soon as she passed out! We were so-" the man whisper yelled so the others wouldn't wake up.

"I'm sorry sir, and with all due respect, I could not care less about what you thought would be appropriate other than bringing her to the hospital. I couldn't care less about how you both were feeling; she needed help, and she needed it right that second. I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries but, as you would be able to tell if you gave me a chance, I have no limit when it comes to your daughter's well being" JJ declared, not once getting his eyes off Y/N's dad.

And he was telling the truth, too. He would go to the ends of earth for her and if her being safe meant her dad would hate him more, it was okay for him. Suddenly, Y/N's mother engulfed him in a tight hug. "She couldn't be with someone better than you. We're just glad she's safe and to know our girl is with someone who will look after her. Thank you, JJ" she smiled.

He smiled wide, returning the hug. "No problem, ma'am. The doc said she'd be just fine. Apparently she had a migraine and hadn't drunk enough water... we're all just waiting for her to wake up". When the blonde raised his eyes to the man behind her, there was something different. Respect, maybe. He didn't really care in this moment.

Her parents stayed in some chairs outside, and, at around midnight, Y/N woke up. JJ was the first one to notice when her hand moved to wrap around his finger while he mindlessly scrolled through twitter. He dropped his phone, almost falling to the ground when he tossed it somewhere as he turned to look at Y/N. "Hi, hi baby" He cooed, pretty y/e/c staring at him just like he needed "Mmm, my hero", Y/N's voice was hoarse.

JJ giggled, handing her a bottle of water and stroking her cheek softly. "I'm sorry baby, I-I should've listened to you when you tried to tell me" He sighed the apologies he repeated like a prayer hours ago "S'okay J" "It's not. Shouldn't have let my mind get in the way. I'm glad you're okay" "Yeah me too... I'm also glad to see you, baby... Dreamt about you while I was out" "As you should," he jokingly said, both of them laughing and sharing a sweet kiss.

The story after that is short. Y/N recovered, JJ was finally allowed at family dinner (and exchanged pleasant conversations with his soon to be father-in-law as he called him). ♡

˚ · • . ° .

The ending feels rushed, I'm sorry ahhhh. Tysm for reading! Hope you enjoyed

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[lizzy06]

Tenya Iida x Reader Fic Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

An Unintended Match ✨by dairyair (fake dating, stranger to friends to lovers, fluff, eventual smut)“I have been informed that you have foresworn your life of crime in order to prevent loss of life. That is admirable, and may I be the first to congratulate you on turning over a new leaf.” [COMPLETED]

The Prince ✨ by ScatteredScribbles/ @bnhascribbles (oneshot, prince! Iida, tutor! reader, royalty au)You should’ve expected that this conversation would happen eventually. You can’t pretend you hadn’t noticed the way Iida stole glances at you over the edge of his book when he thought you weren’t watching. The worst part was…you’d caught yourself doing those very same things.[COMPLETED]

Songfic: Iida Tenya x F!Reader - Crave You  ✨by @flannel-cladpika (oneshot, fluff, slight angst)It was official. You were permanently friend-zoned by the one person you actually had feelings for.[COMPLETED]

BNHA Soulmate AU Week Day 3: Blue Eyes by @writing-freak (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)you are obsessed with the color blue, and spend your life dedicated to the things the beautiful color produces. only problem? you’ve never been able to see it.[COMPLETED]

This piece of you by @sleeplessdreamer14 (oneshot, fluff) you left your jacket in iida’s room.[COMPLETED]

The Baby Curse ✨ by Bonkers4hatter(oneshot, fluff, pregnancy, chubby! insecure reader, slight angst)With a family filled with boys, Iida dubbed it "the baby curse". You always thought it was a bit ridiculous, but when you start to consider kids of your own, Iida's little "curse" crosses your mind.[COMPLETED]

The Class Representatives ✨ by mooncandi(oneshot, fluff, humor)5 times your classmates could've found out about your relationship, the one time they did.[COMPLETED]

Her [ Iida Tenya + Reader ] by iiAnon (oneshot, fluff, angst)Tenya is pining hard for reader. Sweet and fluffy! <3[COMPLETED]

Love Letters  ✨by lyrical_panic(oneshot, fluff, love letters, secret admirer) Tenya Iida has an ordinary, routine life. There's nothing out of the ordinary, ever. Until one day when a anonymous love letter finds its way underneath his door, and his whole world turns upside down. Determined to find the author, he conducts a little investigation, leading him to none other but you.[COMPLETED]

Study Date ✨ by levithestripper(oneshot, fluff, crushes, humor)Tenya has always been quite confident in himself and in his appearance, not normally being overly nervous around people or shy. Yet you were different. If he wasn’t constantly fixing his hair before, he sure is now.[COMPLETED]

Birthday Kisses by goldxnapplxs (oneshot, fluff)Using a quirk that allows you to phase through objects, you sneak into the boys dorm to wish your favorite class representative a happy birthday.[COMPLETED]

Providentia by SongsOfAdelaide (oneshot, soulmates au, childhood friends to lovers) meaning The ability to see something in advance; foresight, foreknowledge./Precaution, providence, forethought.[COMPLETED]

i adore you. by TheBestParkBenchYouveEverSeen (oneshot, fluff, hurt/comfort)you have a BAAADDD migraine, iida trys to help.[COMPLETED]

Graduation Party by nek0zawakun(oneshot, fluff, humor) “I kissed you, because I wanted to.” She finally breathed out. His grip tightened. “We don’t always get what we want.” He responded seriously. “But I will,”[COMPLETED]

The Possibility of Rain or Shine by SongsOfAdelaide(oneshot, strangers to lovers, fluff, alternate au) In which you try hard not to fall in love with a potential business partner who may actually be married.[COMPLETED]

In Which Iida Treats A Date Like Everything Else by kawaiicthulhu (oneshot, fluff)"He had printed an itinerary for your date."[COMPLETED]

Broken Glass ✨ ✨ by Anonymous(oneshot, fluff, humor)In a quirk-related accident you find yourself surrounded by shattered glass. Worst of all, most of that glass is from every single pair of your boyfriend’s glasses. What will you do? Just some silly fluff.[COMPLETED]

The Duke's Son and the Viscount's Daughter by btp (oneshot, historical au, fluff, slight angst)When you attend a ball, a certain man catches your eye. Things seem to be going well until an announcement changes everything.[COMPLETED]

Courtship & Heartbreak in Alryne by @bakugotrashpanda (oneshot, victorian au, angst)[COMPLETED]

Soulmate au by @captainsolare (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)You have each other’s initials on your wrists, they glow when they are held up and shown to your soulmate.[COMPLETED]

Arranged love by @wonderwomanfantasy (oneshot, royalty au, arranged marriage)ever since you were a child you were in love with the idea of love, red roses, and romantic poems, too bad you were sold off into marriage before you could find that kind of love. But is it really too late? after all what is more romantic than a Masquerade ball?[COMPLETED]

Quirk Marriage by @swigglesandwiggles (oneshot, angst, arranged marriage)What happens when a quirk marriage is arranged between two students and both have two very different reactions towards it?[COMPLETED]

[unicornpopcorn14]

1, 8, or 32 for skk (from the hug prompts) 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

bestie you can’t do this to me i will request all of them

THEY'RE ALL SUCH GOOD PROMPTS I AGREEEE

Hug prompts

Decided to go for 1- "Are you cold? You look like you're freezing."

Additionally, for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 Day 3: Good Intentions + Masks

Words: 3.3k. Hope you like it, Essie!! :D

Rings a Bell

You’d think being stuck with your former partner/enemy in a confined space is the worst thing that can happen to a person…

But no, it can get worse, when said confined space happens to be a fucking freezer room.

Yeah, Chuuya has no idea what led them to this. Well, he does, but thinking about it too hard might cause his fifth aneurism today, and, less importantly, dissipate his already fickle energy.

A snicker resounds from beside him, “Chuuya’s growling like a dog again!”

“Shut the fuck up before I hang you from that meat hook myself…” He tries to give his usual bite, but it falls short as his stomach lurches again, feeling awful in all sorts of places.

Great news: he can’t see shit. Mostly blurry shapes and wavering colors, but never past that. It doesn’t help that he has the fattest migraine of the century, accompanied by an urge to vomit he honestly doesn’t know how he managed to fight against this long. Arahabaki, the damn scoundrel, decides to stay standstill and let him handle this one on his own. Fucking fantastic.

He had been told what poison he’s been injected with, but he can’t for the life of him remember the name right now.

And who’s to blame for all of this? You guessed it.

“Chuuya!!” Dazai claps with a higher-than-normal-pitch, which successfully sends stronger-than-usual-ringing to his ears, “How did you know the new method I was planning to try out?! And you’re offering to help me?! My, you should get poisoned more often!”

“You’re lucky I currently am, piece of shit…” God, he wanted to sound harsher than that– perhaps come up with a more creative thing to retort with, but that all gets swept away by low groans and helpless eye rolls…

Chuuya doesn’t know why he even bothers with looking out for that bastard when all he does is become a pain in the ass afterwards. Every time he tells himself he would wholly ignore his former partner the next joint mission, something like this happens which throws all of his vows to the curb:

Dazai was probably distracted, probably not, but Chuuya grabbed him aside anyways, rendering him without an ability for just a second.

And right then a needle buried in his neck.

They got their asses handed to them immediately afterwards, because of course, and the fuckers decided to add onto their frozen meat collection today of all days– thus, their predicament.

Which consists of opposite organization members seated in a freezer room against an icy wall, the mafia member certainly looking more limp and uncoordinated than the other. Chuuya doesn’t know how Dazai’s seated, but he’s 90% sure he isn’t staying still for the life of him, so guessing that would be impossible.

“Think Koyou-san will send a search party after you?” The question comes out as slyly as you’d think a Dazai-question would come out.

“This fast? No… She knows I can handle myself…” Dazai should already know this, as nothing has changed much in the last four years. Chuuya groans out, breathing coming in difficult, “I’d have to be gone for an entire week before she gets worried.”

“Hm, same with the Agency. But not that long. Just a day at most…” He hears shifting from beside him once again, overly wary of his surroundings since his sight is on hold, “So we’re stuck here until the poison symptoms wear off. Alone. Together. Great.” Dazai concludes like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

“At least you have the blessing of seeing in front of you.” Chuuya closes his eyes to stop his spinning vision, as perhaps that can help keep the migraine at bay, “Do you realize… how nerve-racking it is to stay this close to you while blind?! You might try anything…!”

“That’s right!” Dazai chirps, his enthusiasm successfully making Chuuya’s nerves prickle, “Chuuya better use his ultra-deduction-instincts if he wishes to stand a chance!”

He grimaces while thumping his head back, wanting to re-demand the other to shut up for how splitting his voice rings in his skull, but Dazai would probably take that as an opportunity to scream, so he resorts to: “God, I hate you…”

From (unfortunate) experience, and seeing how high on the awful-feeling scale this falls, Arahabaki will stay asleep for twenty more minutes -adding to the fifteen he already suffered through-, until he finally feels the need to fucking do something and starts kicking his freaky immune system to life.

His breath comes out as condensed clouds, each intake of breath colder than the last. The shitty smell of raw meat doesn’t help with the nausea, and he has half a mind to sleep all of this off, but leaving the suicidal freak alone with metal hooks all around is probably a wildly stupid idea. He’s still weighing his options-

“I’m booooored!!” Dazai suddenly whines, high pitched and grating. Chuuya jolts, opening his eyes in order to send the other a scowl out of habit.

Only various shades of brown meet his vision, swimming before him. The migraine remerges tenfold,  “Wh-”

“Chuuya, entertain me!” Dazai leans onto him, shoulder to shoulder, so roughly that the clench of his stomach tightens. Chuuya barely has the energy to push the bastard back, said bastard surely aware of that, “Be my jester! Now, now!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Hey-”

Just as Dazai straightens on his own, Chuuya feels his fedora getting snatched, followed by low chuckles and murmurs of “Disgusting hat, I’mma burn you when we’re out of here…”

If Chuuya were to sound crazy, he’d have told you that Dazai is purposely being extra obnoxious right now– ridiculously so, but four years of separation might have granted him the blessing of forgetting how annoying Dazai could truly get, thus doesn’t humor that thought…

“You have two seconds before I start calling for grantors of dark disgrace and level this whole room over your head.” He warns, and doubts this is a good idea at all (Forcing Arahabaki awake is never a good idea). But he’s seriously getting tipped over the edge and the drug rushing in his veins isn’t helping in the slightest, “Give it, now.”

Dazai stays silent for a few seconds. A few seconds too long. Catching a glimpse of his face threatens to empty out the contents in his stomach, so Chuuya just decides to close his eyes again and relish this brief moment of piece, brushing the flicker of confusion aside.

Then the grating is back, “Fiiiine…”

It’s weird how Dazai takes his already outstretched hand and places the fedora on top of it, even lingering the hold on his gloved fingers for a second before letting go. Weird, but not concerning.

“Smart choice.”  He plants his belonging back on his head, sighing lowly. The option of sleeping sounds like a dream right now– would save him the trouble of handling the two constant problems in his life at once. But nothing ever feels as good as it sounds in Chuuya’s case– sometimes his comfort comes with a heavy price, even.

Suffering through this it is, then.

“Ne, you really still can’t see?” Dazai leans onto him again– not as roughly, but certainly making Chuuya lose his balance all the same, “What about the headache? Is it getting any better? Is it? I’m bored- can you see yet? Can y-”

“No I fucking can’t, that’s why we’re still here!” Chuuya exclaims, successfully shoving him off, unable to handle Dazai’s toddler whining a second longer, “You think I wouldn’t have kicked the door down the second I regained my ability?!”

“Eh, you’re right. The air smells so bad when a dog is sharing it with me.” Dazai taunts, and must be leaning back onto the wall now, legs overly outstretched before him (probably rocking his heels back and forth) because God forbid he ever sit normally, “Too bad the door is too sturdy to budge with my kicks.”

“Cuz you’re a wuss.”

“Cuz it’s sturdy.” The other stresses, then it’s silent for a few minutes. The moment the headache begins to dissipate into a buzzing sting, rather than pounding ache, Dazai decides he should resume the torture session,

“Chuuya should cut his hair.”

That’s… so random. Even by Dazai standards. “What the he- Are you touching it?!”

Fingers tug on the longer end of his hair, brushing it, “Need scissors.”

Chuuya wishes he could recoil back in disgust, he really does, “Keep your grubby fingers to yourself, piece of shit! You know how much product I use?!” He tries to smack the hand away, never lands on it, “They’re worth your damn hands.”

Dazai blows a raspberry, and the fingers meekly abort, “My bad for trying to make a slug look a hundred times better.”

“This is neither the time nor place for it, freak.”

“Oh, so you agree to cutting it later? Consent granted!”

Chuuya springs up from the wall, “THAT’T NOT WHAT I-” At the violent lurch he receives in his abdomen, he gags mid-sentence, but thankfully doesn’t fully throw up. Or unthankfully. He isn’t sure what’s better for him at the moment. He tries to breathe through the acid in his throat, “Fuck…”

He hears shifting from beside him, peeking to deduce Dazai hugging his knees now– rocking back and forth? He closes his eyes again, wishing time wasn’t a slow bitch at the moment. One arm presses to his abdomen, right where it’s angry and upset, the other stays numb on the floor beside him. Several clouds form in front of his lips, with him somehow sweating midst the freezing room, the water cooling on his burning skin terrifyingly fast. Perhaps a minute more and they’d turn solid.

“Can your trusty dusty chaos God wake up any faster?” Oh, right. Dazai isn’t dead yet, so peace for him isn’t an option, “Does turning him off and on again works?”

Chuuya rigids once something that feels like ice pokes his cheek,

“Fucking hell, when did you find an ice cube?” He uncoordinatedly smacks the thing away, which turns out to be a hand. Huh. “You already know the answer to that, bastard. Why are you even trying?”

“Worth it…” He giggles, something breathy about it, off. Chuuya pauses, sharpening his hearing instantly, because anything off regarding Dazai is always a bad sign, and his sense about this never lies. Call it a sixth sense, if you will. “Besides, pestering Chuuya when he’s weak is fun! You think I won’t take my chances? You really don’t know me at all!”

At that his concentrated frown dissipates, immediately replaced by one of assessment.

“Wait a second…” He keeps his head hanged and eyes closed, but his tone rumbles all the same, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Whatever you mean, sluggy poo?”

Chuuya doesn’t fall for the bait, sharpening his hearing even more, “I thought you were being annoying just for the sake of it, but now you’re outright telling me you’re being annoying?” He lifts his head to look at the direction of the other, sending a glare with closed eyes, “You’re trying to hide something. Out with it.”

“Pfff, paranoid much, aren’t we?”

And just like that, Chuuya catches it.

The shivers in the other’s breathing, that automatically translate to shudders in his speech, are so subdued, desperately trying to stay hidden from him, trying to get concealed behind loud pitches and provoking fronts.

It’s a testament to how far gone his mind is in order for that to escape him.

“You’re-” Without asking for verbal confirmation that he wouldn’t get, Chuuya hurriedly takes off his gloves, “Gimme that- where is it?” He blindly wanders till he finds a bandaged wrist and grasps it. The stiffen of the other gets ignored as his hands travel to the only bare parts in Dazai’s body– his fingers and face. The fingers are frigid to the point where he can’t hold them for more than a few seconds, while the moment he clumsily smacks the face in order to cup it with both hands, it’s like all his body heat rushes to it– the skin cold, hungry and craving any kind of warmth, “What the hell- you’re fucking freezing!”

“Wow, what an astute observation, Chuuya.” He hears the roll of the other’s eyes, as Dazai’s quivering fingers hold onto both of Chuuya’s wrists, trying to push them away from his face but not putting that much effort into it, “It’s not like we’re literally in a freezer room.”

“No- this isn’t normal.” Chuuya declares, squeezing the cheeks in. How come cold skin can burn so much? “We’ve only been here for like…”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Exactly. Doesn’t it take about… way longer for hypothermia to kick in?”

“That’s you! You’re the abnormal one!” Dazai exclaims, sounding more genuine than he has been since they’ve been thrown in here. Scratch that– since he’d known him, “You think all people come with a built-in heater? I thought you realized that that’s not the case during your mission in Siberia. And you call me a fish.”

Chuuya pauses promptly. Oh, right. Sometimes he forgets that he isn’t the only one who occasionally wakes up to screams coming from within, or feels unprecedented urge to unleash chaos in stressful situations, or even runs way warmer than others. These are constants in his life. Constants he has to remind himself that no other person experiences…

And even if Arahabaki is asleep, the remnants of his abnormally high temperature is still very much intact. Chuuya doesn’t feel much past the chills of the poison itself, other than that? Coolness at best at his extremists. He’d need to stay here thirty minutes longer for the real frigidness to kick in…

Though Chuuya is equally aware that while his core temperature is abnormally high, Dazai’s core temperature is, funnily enough, abnormally low. Leave him out in the snow for a few minutes and you’d get a hypothermic mackerel popsicle in no time.

Chuuya grimaces. Stupid, stupid.

How could he forget that? His mind defends him, tells him it must have been the poison, that it must have played a part in brushing that fact aside. Chuuya wants to curse it out. He’s retained many random facts about Dazai by heart– so, so many, some even entirely useless; but when it comes to important stuff he somehow has to be reminded of them the hard way. What is wrong with him?

Well, time to make up for that. Harshly, because the bastard deserves it.

“I’m perfectly normal, thank you very much.” He lies through his teeth, but his voice is almost soft, fingers still intact with the skin cosplaying an ice wall, “You’re the one with a terrible immune system that is eager to kill you at the first given chance.”

Dazai chuckles, breathily once again. Shakily, the accurate word for it. “Dying by hypothermia i-isn’t too bad, actually!”

“Just- fucking drop it, will you? You don’t need to do that shit.” Once again he grits out softer than intended, finally cutting the contact. If he had his eyes working, he’d have seen the way Dazai chases the hands for a second before collecting himself and drawing back, “Come closer before I snatch you by the hair.”

“Chuuya wouldn’t have the energy to, anyway…” Dazai finally sounds as slurred and exhausted as he should, and Chuuya’s thankful he can even move– numbness probably there but hasn’t fully settled in.

“You remember our code?”

“Code white? O-Of course I do. Have many fond memories with it.” He hears the rustle of fabric, which means that Dazai is taking off his coat. Chuuya does the same, if a little slower.

“Stage?”

“Mild.”

Chuuya exhales, “Thank fuck, I wasn’t looking forward to sharing body heat with you properly.”

There is a pause, then, “…Severe, then.” He sees the smirk in the Dazai’s face without the need to see at all.

“That so? I’ll bash your head against that metal wall, then.” He knocks behind him twice, just as he senses Dazai drawing near, “Seems like it would do the trick nicely.”  

“No thanks, I-I change my mind. I’d like the mild-stage treatment.”

“Just as I thought.”

Chuuya suddenly feels a weight on his lap, and acts. He takes both of their coats and wraps them with it as make-shift blankets, just as Dazai gets comfortably seated, ear over Chuuya’s heart, knees tucked close. The redhead presses his lips on the hair beneath him before he can help it, feeling the frost that has settled there. One arm supports the taller’s shoulder and back, while the other wraps around Dazai’s midsection, keeping him caged in.

Now without the need to hide anything, Dazai’s shivers turn to trembles, rocking him to his core and rocking Chuuya along with it. The brunette wraps the coats tighter around himself, pulse audibly rapid and panicking, trying to compensate the body for the heat it lost apace.

Chuuya’s migraine begins dissipating a little, and he dares open his eyes, to find the variety of colors taking the form of actual shapes, now. He relaxes, just as he feels Dazai do the same– their positioning, strange as it may come for them, somehow feeling utterly natural…

“Gosh, I almost forgot your stupid tendency to never speak up in situations like this.” The mafioso chastises midst the curls, “What? Were you trying to make up for the fact that I got drugged cuz of you?” Chuuya is sure there might be a number of other reasons, like the fact that Dazai could have simply been waiting to die like that– to pass out from the cold and never feel it when Chuuya tries to wake him up again.

But Dazai’s silence grants him an abundance of answers, one of them that confirms his verbal question, and he tskes in displeasure.

“Goody-two-shoes act that makes me sick...” He rasps, his upset stomach comforted with the added pressure to it.

Dazai huffs, finding the energy to nuzzle his cheek to Chuuya’s chest exactly like a freaking cat, “My personal heater…”

At how weirdly endearing that sounds, Chuuya bristles, “I’m not your fucking-”

“Along with being my dog? Too many jobs for your brain to handle, Chibi…!” Dazai’s slurred speech sounds funny, but the words themselves cause the shorter to growl, “You’ll overwork yourself!”

“Your neck is in a perfect position to get snapped. Watch your words.”

“Hm…” Dazai takes the threat in stride, one of his hands that was lost under the blanket coming up to hold onto Chuuya’s shoulder, “The air still smells bad, by the way.”

“Then I’ll keep you trapped in it for longer.” Chuuya counters, sharing his former partner’s frigidness without mind or care. He meekly feels the forehead concealed under brown bangs, to find it minutely warmer than before. Good, great.

“How much longer are we staying here again…?” Dazai asks.

Chuuya blinks, cozy, “Not much. I can see better now.”

“Mm, then all your strength will be back in ten minutes at most…”

“Of course you still memorize the exact cooldown duration of my ability.” Chuuya would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for his splitting headache, “Why am I not surprised?”

Dazai keeps quiet, head hanging as he mumbles, “Chuuya’s the one with a bad memory…”

The redhead pauses, unable to deny the present truth before him, “Maybe…” He mumbles back, then huffs, “But at least you’re a thorn in my side that annoyingly reminds me of the kind of stuff I eagerly want forgotten…”

“If it’ll make Chuuya miserable,” Dazai tilts his head up. Chuuya sees the smile so clear, bright and giddy. Blurry at the edges but real. “I’ll always be a thorn in his side that will always keep annoyingly reminding him…”

Something leaps in his heart at the connotation embedded in these words, of his former partner vowing to never leave again, to forever be a part of the mafioso’s life despite what life has done them, despite the circumstances. And Chuuya himself vows to never forget how such a simple word almost sent him in a haze of emotions so deep and human. The word always.

His hold tightens, and he hides his face before mumbling, “Of course it will make me miserable, bastard…”

~~~~

Hc for context: I’m a ‘Chuuya has amnesia as a trauma response’ believer. Like yeah he remembers some details regarding missions but otherwise blocks out anything his mind deems too stressful to deal with. “Your mission in Siberia” Actually had most of his subordinates die because they stayed for the cold too long. :’) Obviously, some missions with Dazai are in that chunk as well, along with the entirety of Stormbringer cuz I said so jnrgjrn.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! This wasn’t my best work so forgive me, Essie! I’ll try my best to edit and tweak some things in here when I have the energy. <33

[bloodlessbelmounte]

Eternity Will Bring You Near - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Summary:

Wade understood that Logan was from a world where Alpha, Beta and Omega were everyday terms, not exclusive to red-pilled incel fuckheads who kept inventing new performative male genders. Wade would’ve been classified as a Beta. Logan, however, was an Alpha - Wade’s read enough fanfiction and yaoi manga to know what that means. Though it doesn’t explain why Logan keeps sniffing him.

Pairing: Alpha!Worst Wolverine/Deadpool Genre: A/B/O, Smut, Domestic-ish Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Scent kink, Praise kink, Biting, Blow Job, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Orgasm Denial, Feral-ish Logan. Let me know if there's any I missed.

Beginning Note: Sorry for the delay folks, when I started writing this chapter I got ill, then just as I recovered the school holidays ended and it was time for me to go back to work AND THEN I got a fucking migraine that lasted FOUR DAYS! I've altered Logan's dialogue so he has a more defined voice. As like last chapter, I'm sorry for any mistakes, I'll no doubt find them over the next week or so. Again I didn't want to subject my partner to my smut writing.

Cross posted to AO3

Logan sat on his bed, tossing a little spherical gadget from one hand to the other in consideration. Wade had somehow strong armed Hank into making the zone isolation device. He shuddered at the thought of what kind of blackmail the merc had on Beast. It had been finished in time for the patchwork family to move into a rather spacious four bed apartment. And it had come in handy a few times already as Wade was making full use of having privacy and an en-suite. Though despite all their… activities Wade had still been apprehensive about going all the way. Logan wasn’t surprised he was intimidated so they took things at his pace. He wished that he had all the time in the world to break Wade in, however, he could feel the restless itch under his skin.

Rut was approaching.

He had completely lost track of it. Of course, he had no suppressants to deal with it because, as he’s come to know through living with the merc, Wade’s executive dysfunction was atrocious. He had no one but himself to blame for leaving the task up to the ADHD asshole. Which left him in his current predicament – how to deal with it. He didn’t want Wade to feel obligated to help him. It wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park for the man. So what did that leave him with? Shut himself in the spare room with this device and try to wait it out with herculean restraint? Didn’t seem feasible with how Wade’s sweet scent had been a lot stronger lately, less of an undercurrent and more of the main note. It was like he was perpetually horny or something. Should Logan find a cabin in the woods somewhere so he’s away from temptation? Who knew what trouble Wade would land himself in with his absence. Either way, booking the time off work on such short notice was going to be a nightmare.

Logan stood with a growl, features set in a scowl, and placed the device back in it’s stand on top of Wade’s bedside table. It’s not on his due to the amount of desk lamps that had been victim to his nightmares (and sometimes orgasms, folks. Peanut has claws when he’s very happy too but you already knew that). There wouldn’t be a replacement for the gadget so it remained on Wade’s side. He had about three days to get this shit figured out if his usual cycle was to be accounted for. Jesus, he was going to have to discuss it with Wade, wasn’t he? He needed a smoke.

He left the bedroom and made his way to the fire escape outside the hallway window. He wasn’t allowed to smoke inside the apartment building so he had set up a little smoking area out there. Fuck walking up to the roof every time he needed a cig. Which was more frequent since Wade replaced all the alcohol in their home with Dr Pepper, a drink that seemed to be his new addiction after he cut out cocaine for “our darling daughters’ sakes”. Althea had also been cut off as collateral, the poor woman was experiencing withdrawal the likes he’d never seen before. He picked a cigar from the box which was situated on the window ledge, lit it and took a drag.

Laura was currently attending evening classes at one of the local high-schools as the girl didn’t exactly get a formal education. The older mutant had wanted to send her to Westchester as a day student but Wade adamantly disagreed. He wouldn’t open up as to why but Laura had also agreed not going was for the best. The two of them shared conversations in Spanish which frustrated Logan to no end because they knew he didn’t understand the language. Those two knew something he didn’t and the scent of unease from them whenever it was bought up really perturbed him.

Wade should be home any minute now. As improbable as it seemed to Logan, the merc could in fact hold down a nine-to-five job as much as he seemed to loathe the dealership. Speak of the devil, the jangling of keys being slid into the lock alerted Logan to his… partner’s(?) return. He could smell Wade’s sweetness over the cigar smoke despite the distance. Something had got the man going it seemed. A bloodied Wade strutted through into the apartment, his clothes all askew but a triumphant smile on his face. At least the blood didn’t smell like his. So whatever happened, Wade hadn’t been the one to get hurt. The older mutant couldn’t help the fond quirk of his lips at that realisation. When he spotted Logan out through the window, he sauntered over and ambled through. Wade took the cigar from between his lips and gave him a quick peck, taking a drag before placing it right where it belonged.

“How was your shift at the workshop?” Wade asked, leaning against the side rail.

“Still have clients confusing me with Howlett,” Logan grunted in response, “Doesn’t help that I’m still not used to being called James-”

“Or that your name badge on those cute oversized overalls of yours says Logan,” Wade interrupted with a teasing grin.

Logan rolled his eyes and waved his hand from Wade’s head downwards, “What’s with the blood?”

“Came across some fuckheads trying to kidnap some boy. No older than elementary school age I’d wager. Lucky for him, I always have Baby Knife on me. Unlucky for them though. One has his organs spilling in some alleyway now dying slowly, the others had a much quicker end.” Wade unsheathed Baby Knife from God knows where and started stabbing and slicing at thin air as he spoke. He seemed… happy. Excited even. Logan hadn’t seen so much life in Wade (outside the bedroom) since he resumed work. It looked good on him. “I think I might quit the dealership and go back to mercenary work. For the right price and only those who are deserving, of course.”

“Anything to get y’to stop wearing that God awful toupee,” Logan taunted, reaching to pluck the staples out of Wade’s scalp to remove the affront to his eyes. “How soon can y’quit?”

“It’s a hair system you insensitive cunt. Because the author is British I can get away with saying that. And its courtesy to give two weeks notice, but when have I ever cared about corporate bureaucracy bullshit. I can quit tomorrow.” Wade shrugged.

“Good… good. There’s, uh, something I need to talk to y’about-”

“If you’re breaking up with me you could have told me before I kissed you.”

“What? No. I’m not breaking up with y’moron. I’m going to be going into Rut soon. Usually lasts about a week, was thinking of shutting myself away for that time. I need y’to be on y’best behaviour.”

Wade cocked his head to the side, would-be-brows furrowed and a tinge of bitter bewilderment wafting over, “Wouldn’t… wouldn’t you want me to join you?”

Logan heaved a sigh, took his cigar in one hand and rubbed his face with the other, “Yes I would like y’to join me. But I know y’not mentally ready for what that entails and I don’t want y’to feel pressured.”

“But I’ve been getting specialist training from a Wolvie who has exceedingly talented fingers. I’m ready.” Wade waggled his brows at the older man.

“Ready for a week straight of getting y’ass railed?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. Actually do. That’ll really get me in the mood.”

“There’d be little to no breaks except for food, water and bathroom.” Logan warned.

“Honey Badger, for my mug to resemble a shaved ballsack I had to be tortured – while terminally ill – for a month straight. Got pressure washed while buck naked; used as a punching bag by a big buff bitch with super strength, electrocuted, held under some sort of oily shit repeatedly, sealed in an ice bath until my lips turned purple and the coup de gras: locked in an oxygen deprivation tank over the course of two days where I was bought to the point of suffocation again and again but never given the sweet reprieve of unconsciousness.” Wade mimed out his experiences, seemingly not noticing Logan’s very concerned look. “If that didn’t prepare me for a week of fucking a sexy Alpha, then that fight in the Odyssey certainly did.”

Wade’s ability to casually trauma dump as a joke would never cease taking Logan by surprise. Sure, he had heard some people deal with it through humour but to that extent? No that didn’t seem normal.

“It’ll be intense but Jesus fuck, I’m not going to torture y’, Wilson.”

“Oh, last name that means you’re serious. Look I was just trying to say I can take anything you give me.” Wade bought his hand up to rest on Logan’s bicep, squeezing gently to try and comfort.

Logan growled, “Are y’sure it’s what you want?”

“Yes! How many ways can I say it? The author is running out! Give Belmounte (read: Belmont) a break and just accept my company already. I’m ready to graduate to the danger cucumber.”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh at Wade’s ridiculous euphemism, slouching back against the rails and blowing smoke, “Fine, I need to get a few things sorted out first but we’ll be heading off in three days.”

“Heading off? But we have the Sound Bubble-inator.” He made a round shape with his hands.

“My instincts will be running wild. I’d rather not risk anyone getting caught in the cross fire.”

Wade’s mouth dropped into an ‘O’ as he nodded. In a rare case, the younger man opted to not continue that path of conversation. Instead he chose to prattle on about his day at work and how he was very close to convincing Peter to just give them a Honda Odyssey. They passed the cigar between them, Logan grunting every now and again at points to show he was still listening. Once the cigar was finished, the remains were stubbed out and flicked off into the trash below.

They climbed back into the apartment. Logan got started on making dinner while Wade joined Althea on the sofa who had been listening to the radio. Sure, Wade had the ability to cook, in fact he was a pretty good one but Logan’s instincts were nagging him to provide and show off desirable skills. Something that he hadn’t experienced in a while, not since… The alcohol and suppressants had done their job in numbing him and now he was sans both.

Alright alright alright, my turn! We’ve spent one-thousand-and-sixty-three words on Logan’s introspection. I’m trying not to be offended by the fact you started without me. I’ll put that down to poor decision making due to your illness. Time to give the people what they paid for in souls as well as blood and virgin sacrifices – me.

Wade, I know asking you not to be sassy is a lot for you, but please my brain is barely functioning. Let me write.

Ah, my bad. Take your time. Let those meds fuel you.

Thank you.

That evening, Wade sent Peter a text:

[Yo Sugar Bear, I’m gonna be quitting tomorrow. Think you could swing me that Honda as a leaving prezzie?]

[Going back to the suit? Always knew you would.]

Oh you should have seen the look on his manager’s face when he handed them a used napkin with ‘I QUIT’ scribbled in Neon Pink crayon with unicorns doodled around it. He had skipped out of that office as they shouted for him to come back. Peter had almost handed his notice in too but Wade had argued he needed the steady income if he was going to sustain a relationship with his wife and B-15. Yeah, a lot of people forgot Peter was married in the second Deadpool film. And that he was a bee keeper. Shame on you for forgetting. Anyway, Wade left DriveMax in a brand new second-hand Honda Odyssey that day. Just in time for Logan’s little get away he was planning.

The following days were a hectic blur of making sure everything would be okay in their absence. A large scale shop was done to make sure Laura, Blind Al and Mary Puppins would have enough food and the basics of other household necessities. Vanessa had agreed to check in on the girls in the evenings. A walking schedule was devised for Mary as well as a shit duty rota. And the packing! My God, trying to get a moment away from Logan so he could pack some secret surprises into his Hello Kitty duffle bag was an unexpected challenge.

The afternoon before Logan’s rut was predicted to start, the older man had corralled Wade out the door with a hurried farewells to the apartment’s other occupants. Apparently they would be driving through the afternoon and into the late evening to whatever location Logan had planned; who had called his boss that morning claiming a family emergency and that he would be out of town for just over a week whilst things get sorted. Small businesses like independent mechanic workshops can be hit or miss about things like sickness and emergencies, luckily for them – this one was a hit. And so into the Honda they went, with Logan driving of course, on a journey to some mysterious place where they hopefully won’t be disturbed. RIP to whatever poor soul stumbled upon them if Logan had decided on camping.

Eight hours.

Eight fucking hours of being sat in that car.

Obviously there were pit-stops to piss and eat but by Marvel Jesus, Wade could not stand long car journeys. You saw how he was in the Void. Imagine that but worse. He couldn’t keep still for the life of him. However, Logan had seemingly planned for this as he took the first traffic light as an opportunity to reach over and open the passenger glove compartment and hand Wade a Nintendo Switch. So the old dog did know about modern tech. Though arguably some might not consider the Switch to be ‘modern’ as it was now eight years old. Outdated in today’s world of extreme consumerism. Anyway, he must have stashed it in there the night before, which would explain why Wade had not been able to find it. But with it being just a Switch and not an OLED (God he hated half step releases, they reeked of money grabbing) the battery only lasted about four hours before it died. That was why he was ever so glad for smartphones and their doom scrolling time sinks.

Another hour and a half later, he was genuinely surprised when Canadian boarder patrol asked for their passports. Wade had turned to Logan in shock, jaw hanging open and eyes wide.

“Your taking us back to the motherland?” Wade squealed. Fucking squealed like a girl excited to receive flowers on prom night.

The fucker just gave him a crocked smile and handed their Canadian passports over to the officer who had been staring at the merc. Which didn’t go unnoticed by the pair.

“Do you often stare at injured veterans?” Wade reprimanded, glaring at the officer who quickly looked over their passports and handed them back.

“S-sorry, sir. W-welcome back,” the man stuttered with a salute before stepping back to let them through.

“Asshole,” Logan muttered, as he drove by. His hand reached for Wade’s thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. It remained for the rest of the journey unless Logan had to change gears.

It would be another two and a half hours until Logan pulled up in front of a lone rustic looking log cabin surrounded by golden woodland that occupied one of the shorelines of Lac Chapleau in Quebec. It was dark outside, almost pitch black. Stepping out of the car, the autumn chill greeted him as Wade stretched and joints popped in satisfying release from being cooped up for so long. Mid back stretch, he was distracted by the sheer beauty of the sky as his spine bowed backwards. How long had it been since he had last seen the stars? Had he ever even seen the glory of the Milky Way before? Like iridescent glitter and metallic purple watercolour on black card framing the full moon. Or Van Gogh’s Starry Night. This must have been what the skies looked like back then. Wade turned to look out onto the calm waters of the lake, a mirror reflecting the star-field above.

Putting those Poetry modules you did in uni to good use I see.

Well, Prose Poetry was my highest marked piece and I was the only one in my class who tackled it after the lecturer said it was hard.

Finally! Some confidence from you.

“Y’okay, Bub? You’ve been staring at the lake all quiet while I’ve unloaded the car.” Logan asked, concern lacing his voice as he place a hand on Wade’s shoulder.

“I was considering skinny dipping in it with you. But that’s too much like the lead up to Edward and Bella’s first sexy time in Breaking Dawn part one.” The merc’s nose scrunched up in distaste. No way was he ever going to replicate that dumpster fire.

Logan turned Wade to face him, scowling utterly confused, “The fuck are y’on about?”

“You know, the Twilight Saga? Team Edward vs Team Jacob? The pentalogy of sparkly vampire films? Teenage girls fantasising about Robert Pattinson and his airbrushed abs that caused him body dysmorphia?” Logan stared at him, still scowling but eyes blank. Not even a hint of recognition in those caramel pools of his. “Come on, it started off as a book series dreamt up by a sexually repressed mormon woman and was really popular in the late naughties early tens.”

“Never heard of it. If it was that popular the girls would have told me about it.” Logan deadpanned.

Oh. Yeah. He would have been at the mansion then. So if Kitty, Rogue or Jubilee didn’t watch it then-

“Holy shit! Your universe doesn’t have Twilight! Maybe that’s where your timeline started to go tits up. Either Stephanie Meyer got the dicking down of her life before she could have wet vampire dreams about Henry Cavil or she was hit by a bus.”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked past Wade towards the lake, shrugging off his leather jacket and pulling his t-shirt over his head. When he realised the younger man wasn’t following him, he glanced over his shoulder at him.

“We doing this or what, Princess?”

Wade was quick to follow suit, stripping off as he jogged after Logan, stumbling when he tried to hurriedly fling off his shoes and shuck his bottoms. Logan, on the other hand, was in no such rush by the looks of it. He took his time to remove the layers that covered his lower half to create a tantalising trail to the water’s edge, where he stood waiting for his companion in all his naked glory, haloed by moonlight. God what a sight. Wade swore he would never get used to it. Sure he had been down bad for Logan’s rippling cumgutter abs but this, with his hard angles mellowed out into soft curves – nourished and flourishing like well maintained garden – nothing could compare. These past few months had certainly been kind to the older mutant and Wade was certainly appreciating the view as his cock twitched in interest.

Wade blinked a couple times and shook his head, now was not the time to get distracted. Stupid unmedicated ADHD. Once he joined Logan, they waded (hehe) into the lake. Wade yelped at the initial caress of nippy freshwater, the brisk autumn night air doing nothing to help him acclimate and everything to send his balls rocketing upwards into himself. Logan chuckled and dragged Wade further into the water with a playful smile until they were chest deep.

Wade shuddered as his body heat was leached out, teeth chattering. “O-o-okay, thi-this wwwwasn’t my f-f-finest idea.”

Logan – that furry fuck – seemed utterly unbothered by the water’s lack of warmth. Probably a part of his mutation.

He drew Wade into him, wrapping his arms around the other’s slim waist as they faced each other, “What’s the matter Darlin’, water too cold? A little hypothermia won’t kill y’.”

Wade plastered himself to Logan, trying to absorb his warmth and eliminate any space that would prevent that, “I-it’d k-k-kill the mmmmood.”

Logan hummed in agreement which Wade felt vibrate in his chest, nuzzling a textured scarred cheek with his nose, “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Not waiting for a response, comparably fervid lips captured Wade’s frigid ones. The was no urgency behind it as Logan’s hands travelled, caressing and coaxing warmth wherever they lingered. Wade’s fingers weaved and tangled into Logan’s hair, which had also grown out a bit to create extra fluffy tufts he loved to tug. Especially in these situations. Hands on his thighs lifted him, making him squeal and wrap his legs around Logan to settle on his hips. He could feel Lil Logan already at half mast against his ass. Ever the tease, Wade ground against him. Logan growled in response and nipped at his lower lip, his hands travelled upwards to cup and squeeze Wade’s rump. Wade laved at the seam of Logan’s mouth, seeking and gaining entry with a breathy whine.

And then they were moving, the inky waters receding as Logan sauntered out from it’s depths. Wade broke away, panting for breath. His hands flew to Logan’s shoulders, nails biting into the skin there and he clung to him. Moans spilled from his lips as every stride caused his cock to rub deliciously against the other man’s stomach and Logan’s now fully hardened member to thrust into the cleft of his ass. He buried his face in Logan’s neck, mouth watering at the scent of pine trees, cigars, sandalwood and something musky that was distinctly him. Maybe it was sharing a room or just how much time Wade spent trying to be as close as possible to the older mutant but it had become unmistakable – Wade could smell him. And he liked it. It gave him the warm fuzzies. Fuck, it made him feel safe. Like Logan was home. Wade mouthed at Logan’s throat, tongue catching the sweat forming there, he felt Logan’s grip on him tighten and his pleased rumble.

The door clicked open and slammed shut behind them, wet feet padding against hardwood floors until Logan reached his destination. He sat at the foot of the bed, hands coming to rest at Wade’s hips. Wade unwrapped his legs from around the Alpha to comfortably cage him between them instead.

“Lean back for me, Princess. Let me get a good look at y’.” Logan murmured into his ear, an involuntary shiver ran down Wade’s spine.

Wade immediately braced himself on Logan’s thighs, back arching slighting to put his chest on display like he had done many times before now to the point it was almost instinctual. Heat spread up his neck and into his cheeks. Wade bit back any self depreciating comments and the need to hide himself, already knowing that doing so would have him over Logan’s lap with stinging ass cheeks and a denied release. And as much as Wade loved those moments, he did not have the patience for it at that moment.

“That’s my good boy.” Logan purred appreciatively, eyes roving over the offering before him.

Pre leaked from Wade’s tip like a broken faucet at the praise. One of Logan’s hands traced a path up from his hip to his chest to thumb over a hardened nipple. Wade jolted at the sensation because somehow Logan had actually trained his nipples into being more sensitive and he swore they had gotten a little bigger too. That fucker must’ve had some sort of healing factor override cheat code or something. Wade hadn’t realised his eyes had fallen shut until a sudden heat enveloped his other nipple and he keened at Logan’s tongue flicking over the nub. And when those fangs scraped over the delicate skin there, Wade rutted desperately against him.

“Fuck. Logan. Need you. Hurry the fuck up.” Wade moaned wantonly.

The Alpha grumbled but acquiesced to the demand with a tap to Wade’s thigh. Wade shuffled off him and watched as Logan got up and unzipped a backpack to search through it. Once he had located what he wanted – lube – he returned to the bed but settled closer to the headboard.

“C’mere, Bubba.”

Wade crawled up the bed and sat on his knees beside Logan who sat back slightly reclined, “How do you want me?”

Logan gave him a crooked grin and manhandled the slightly taller man into position over him, scarred cock level with his face, “Right here.”

Without waiting for Wade’s response, Logan lapped up the trail of precum that was still leaking from Wade’s tip.

“Oh fuck!” Wade cried out, bucking forward and grasping onto the headboard. “Give a gal some warning, Honey Badger.”

Logan chortled and continued to lave at Wade’s dick, tracing scars and veins alike as it twitched under his attentions. Logan’s tongue had a roughness to it that most people probably wouldn’t like. But Wade wasn’t most people and that wet muscle had a way of catching on places that had him gasping and whimpering like a bitch. The only warning Logan gave him before swallowing his length was a lap at his slit, then his tongue flattened and he was taking him down to the base. The wooden bed frame protested under Wade’s grip as he fought the urge to thrust into the inviting heat. Logan hummed in approval as he set to work bobbing his head and Wade cussed, moaning and shuddering, as the sensation went right through him.

A slick finger circled Wade’s rim before slowly pushing in and began thrusting. Wade stiffened, torn between trying to stay still, rutting into the heavenly wet warmth of Logan’s mouth or grinding back into the finger working him open. Make that fingers as a second one soon joined the first and started scissoring him open. This bit always stung slightly but Wade was a sucker for a bit of pain with his pleasure. As if sensing his thoughts, Logan lightly bit down on the cock in his mouth, fangs digging in and drawing droplets of blood that made Wade mewl while Logan groan beneath him. It wasn’t much longer till he was loose enough for a third finger to slip in. Wade hissed at the intrusion which melted into a moan when Logan struck his prostate with targetted precision.

“Holy shit, there! Right there!”

Logan smiled around his cock, never once missing the sensitive bundle once he had found it. And with that, Wade’s restraint crumbled, his hips rocking back onto the Alpha’s thick fingers and forwards into his throat. Logan choked around him at the unexpected motion. The sudden tightening had Wade right on the precipice of climax, heat roiling low in his stomach. Once. Twice. Thr- Wade choked back a sob as the hand on his hip swiftly gripped his cock like a vice, the heat of Logan’s mouth removed in favour of sucking marks into the diverts of his abs.

“Not yet. Y’d been doing so well. Y’ll cum on my cock like a good little Omega.” Logan growled out, voice low and rough, “I want y’to ride me while I can still be nice.”

Someone call a plumber because as if his cock couldn’t get any wetter, Wade swore to god he felt his hole become slicker around Logan’s fingers like he was an actual Omega. But that wasn’t possible so it was probably just his imagination.

“Fuck- Sure. Yeah. Get comfy then. Gonna rock your world, old man.”

Logan pulled his fingers out to swat his ass. Again, Wade clambered off him to let him reposition. When he was led down and settled, Wade grabbed the lube, squirting a liberal amount into his hand. He threw his leg over Logan and reached his lubed hand beneath him to spread it onto Logan’s neglected dick. It twitched in his grip as Logan groaned at the contact. Wade gave him a few quick pumps to watch him squirm and make sure he was all slicked up then lined him up with his hole. He knew he had it right when he felt the bulbous tip catch his rim. Slowly, Wade sunk down onto Logan’s length, breath catching in his throat at the burning stretch. No amount of fingering could ever have truly prepared him for just how thick Logan was. Beneath him, Logan had gone rigid, jaw clenched tight and white-knuckling the sheets as it was his turn to show restraint, to let Wade set the pace. His pupils were blown wide, eyes never leaving from where they were connected. Low grunts and groans escaping him with every shallow thrust Wade made to work his way down.

“Logan, please I need- please you have to-” Wade whined, desperately needing something to take the edge of.

Logan understood what Wade was trying to say. He spat into his hand and wrapped it around Wade’s cock, thumbing at the slit to spread the precum there. Wade moaned softly and Logan seemed to take that as the okay to do two things. First, to start stroking Wade’s cock in time with his rocking. Second, to bend his knees so his feet were flat on the bed so he could better angle his hips. Wade choked out a cry as Logan’s cock rubbed against his prostate.

“Jesus! H-how are you s-so good at finding the on switch?”

Logan huffed out a laugh, “When you been around for two hundred years, you learn a thing or two.”

The duel sensations were pleasurably distracting enough that Wade was able to take in more and more with each roll of his hips. And when his ass became flush with Logan’s thighs he stilled. Fuck he was so full. Taking a moment to catch his breathe and get used to the feeling of an actual dick being inside him. He could feel Logan warm and twitching. Very different from the solid, cold, unyielding silicone of a strap. Logan’s hand fell away from Wade’s cock to fist the sheets again.

“Fuck, Princess, y’re so fucking tight.” Logan grunted.

“Am I tight or is your monster cock just stretching me to capacity?” Wade giggled.

Logan’s hands flew up to Wade’s waist, gripping it tightly as he bucked up beneath him punching a breathy ah from him.

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t- Don’t laugh when I’m in y’.”

Wade leant forwards, bracing his hands on Logan’s pecs to experimentally roll his hips again. Both men groaned at the sensation. Didn’t burn any more, just a tolerable sting. Easily ignored if Logan’s cock kept abusing his prostate like that. With that in mind, Wade began to bounce on the cock impaling him in earnest. Wanton mewls and keening whines tumbled from Wade’s lips, each cant of his hips sending ripples of bliss up his spine and into his cock that slapped against his stomach with every motion. Logan looked tortured beneath him, still trying not to move, his eyes squeezed shut and his head kicked back, exposing a rather appetising vein in his neck.

The problem of being a first time dick rider was the lack of endurance. You see, riding uses different leg muscles to ploughing, or at the very least uses them differently. Wade’s thighs were already throbbing and sore from exertion. But he couldn’t throw in the towel yet. He switched between bouncing, rolling and swivelling his hips, drawing a symphony of groans, grunts and growls from the man beneath him. Felt his nails break the skin where he clutched at him. How much longer would it take for his resolve to break?

“Not much of an hahAlpha are ya? Just laying there mhm taking what I give you,” Wade taunted, chest heaving.

Logan’s eyes snapped open, glaring at the man currently literally and metaphorically riding his dick. He snarled as he batted Wade’s arms off him, sending him tumbling into him. He hastily rolled them over, pinning Wade beneath him and hooking one of his legs over his shoulder. Thank fuck this was a Queen size bed.

“Y’asked for it y’fuckin brat,” Logan warned.

He pulled out until just the tip remained then thrust back into the hilt, Wade arched his back trying to meet him thrust for thrust. God it was so worth teasing him and he was thankful for his flexibility as it meant he could pull Logan down into a heated kiss whilst being bent in half. Each of Logan’s ruts was met with a buck from Wade, falling into a rhythm that had them panting into each others mouths. A particularly hard thrust had Wade clawing at his back, heat pooling low in his gut yet again. He tried to reach between them to jerk himself off but his hand was slapped away.

“PleasePleasePlease let me hah cum. Need to cum. Fuck!” Wade begged.

Logan smirked down at him not stopping or slowing, “What did I say?” he demanded.

“To- hng to be a good Omega and c- ah cum on your cock,” Wade responded weakly, yelping when Logan tweaked one of his nipples.

“So what are y’gonna do?”

“B-be good and ah cum on my Alpha’s-”

Logan’s eyes glazed over, nostrils flaring as he suddenly bore down on him, sinking his teeth into the meat of Wade’s neck. Wade screamed as he came, pain and pleasure dancing through his veins to creating an intoxicatingly raw delirium. Tears running unbidden as his body writhed. Logan clamped down harder, growling as he seemed to enter a frenzy, setting a brutal pace that would’ve been sure to break anyone else. Oversensitivity was fast making itself known to Wade, his hole clenching around Logan’s cock with each pass of his prostate.

“C’mon Pean-uh-t, cum inside me. Knock me up with ah whole litter of Wolvies.”

That did it. Logan stilled above him, cock buried deep and shooting into him in spurts. Every now and then Logan would go to pull out only to push back in, more warmth covering his insides. How much could he fucking cum? And Christ on a bike, this was without knotting. Eventually, Logan released him from between his jaws and let his leg slide off his shoulder. Wade idly played with his hair as he waited for the Alpha to calm down.

“So, my Honey Badger has a thing for breeding ey? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Logan heaved a sigh and finally rolled off him, “You stay here, I’m gonna grab our clothes then get something to clean you up with.”

He made his way off the bed and towards the door.

“I thought you said there’d be no breaks.”

Logan shot him a grin, “Oh we’re just getting started, Princess. The real fun begins tomorrow.”

Finally! We arrived at PoundTown via the penetration express! I’d like to thank everyone who made this possible: The virgins who were sacrificed, the souls that were sold, Satan, my mum-

And I’m feeling better. Only took me like nearly twenty days to write this between illness and being back at work T^T

There, there dear author. You’re nearly done with this chapter.

What do you mean “nearly done”? I’m done here. Nothing more to add to this one.

Oh hell no. You can’t write about Peanut being in rut and not even show us the actual rut!

Fine. You actually made a good point there. Time skip.

Day three of Logan’s rut was interesting. See Wade thought it’d be a waste to be in such a scenic location and not fuck outdoors and under the stars. There was just one problem: a Peanut in rut was a nonverbal Peanut reduced to growling, grunting and purring. Yes, purring. So he couldn’t exactly discuss the idea with the other mutant. Which left him one option. As Logan lay sated on blood and cum stained sheets, Wade grabbed his duffle bag slunk off into the bathroom. Buried near the bottom was the little surprise he put together. Lingerie he had made to resemble his suit – complete with an altered mask which had an accessible mouth hole. Even some stylish chunky heeled boots. He slid the garments on as quickly as possible, he only had a limited amount of time before Logan would try to pin him down again, which was something he was counting on. ‘Geared’ up, Wade mentally went over his plan.

This was going to be fun.

Wade crept out of the bathroom and towards one of the windows, praying to all that was holy that he would successfully get his head start. He held his breathe as he pushed up a window, willing it to remain silent. But the window was a traitorous thing, squeaking in protest as it reached the top to alert Logan’s super hearing. Logan, who was now sat up, hackles raised and on guard for a possible intruder. Seeing that it was only Wade, the somewhat feral Alpha paused, head cocking to the side as he assessed the other man and his choice of clothing. Wade shot him a playful grin and a wave before diving out the window and high tailing it into the surrounding woodland. He dodged and weaved between trees, leapt over roots, logs and shrubbery alike. He had to get as far as possible before-

A roar came from the cabin he had left behind inciting birds to take flight and any other animals in the area to flee. Was that a moose he could see galloping away? Wade’s heart pounded in his chest, he could hear the crackling of dead leaves under foot and sounds of Logan giving chase. His danger boner was raging at the thought of being hunted like prey. He could just make out an ideal clearing for what the Brits called dogging when he was tackled into a tree. There, caging him in, was a naked annoyed growly Logan with fangs bared. Fuck that’s hot. But Wade was here to get fucked, not disembowelled. To placate him, Wade tilted his head to the side exposing the length of his neck.

“Just wanted some fresh air, Wolvie. Not trying to leave. Don’t worry.”

Logan leaned in and nosed at the offered flesh, breathing in deeply before giving a low rumbling purr. His hands landed on scarred thighs, hoisting them up around his waist then travelled back up them to pull Wade’s panties to the side. Wade’s breathe hitched as Logan’s cock slid home inside him, still stretched and full of cum from their previous romp. But it seemed all was not forgiven as Logan tightly gripped his hips and with a snikt released his claws into the poor tree behind them, barely missing Wade himself. If Wade had been caged in before, now he was imprisoned with no escape.

The merc slung his arms around Logan’s neck and let his head fall back against the tree trunk. Logan fucked up into him at a dizzying pace, drawing curses and moans that were cut short as the Alpha took full advantage of the mouth hole to seal his mouth shut with his own. The bark dug into his back, pricking his skin and creating welts across its length as Logan used what little leeway he had to pull Wade down to meet his thrusts. Wade’s legs tightened around his waist, heels digging into his ass to encourage him impossibly closer. Logan angled his hips in just the way Wade was quickly learning to love, the way that had him hammering his on switch till he was a drooling teary mess.

Wade might not have been a natural bottom when this relationship started, but he sure as hell was now.

Oh you cock/clit tease! You’re ending the chapter there?!

Unlike you, I’m not a fictional character and I need to sleep since I have work in the morning.

[jupitervega]

fleein the south part II

hi, i'm ri & i'm an autistic nonbinary trans guy-lite-ish person. 4 years ago i moved out to denver from mississippi (where i was born & raised) & immediately had a massive improvement in my quality of life. i was able to access medical & psychiatric care, my career stabilized, people were addressin me with correct terms for the most part, & i was startin to feel like life had finally begun

unfortunately when the lease ran out on our house end of summer last year my roommates decided not to renew, & then the people who were gonna be my new roommates backed out last minute. in a panic i looked for other options but with time runnin short & top surgery approachin i decided to recover at a friend's house & move back to mississippi once my surgeon cleared me to travel cross country so i could regroup somewhere i figured would be less expensive & at least somewhat familiar

that, friends, was a very costly & painful mistake! every single problem that made me wanna move away in the first place has only exacerbated!

i'm comin up on 8 months post top surgery, i have a beard, & i'm still gettin called ma'am/she/her. trump flags & signs still adorn many yards/porches here. hatred & bigotry run rampant in local politics. the other day i didn't even enter one of the convenience stores in the town where i live when i stopped by because they had posted a very thinly veiled racist sign on the door

when i arrived back here i was not even a full month outta surgery & i had a minor complication, so i went to the emergency room cause what else was i sposed to do? applied for charity as i had around $100 to my name at that point, which i THINK? got approved? also applied for mississippi medicaid the same day, which got denied almost outright as i have no children. so i've been uninsured since november & rationin the 3 month supply of my psych/migraine meds i received before leavin colorado for goin on 7 months. never mind bein able to access hrt!

job prospects here are Not Great! i've had to collect unemployment for a while as i cannot for the life of me find a full time job with a livin wage. otherwise i literally cannot make ends meet as the jobs i've held so far down here are payin average 50% or less of what i was makin in denver. even with the part time gigs i've had i have yet to crack 30hr/wk on any kind of regular basis

housin is an absolute shitshow. my lease is up 1 july (got a month extension) & i've been searchin everywhere for an affordable place of my own or at least a good roommate. the more affordable studio/1bd apartments go for around $700 & up, but most have income requirements of 2.5-3x the monthly rent which, considerin previous point abt wages, is near impossible. roommate listins are available but the majority are questionable at best & seekin a live-in bangmaid at worst

with all these considerations i spent the past few weeks feelin worse & worse lookin for somewhere close to the job i currently have. the leases are like 6mo-1y so i was picturin another year down here & how i was gonna survive, let alone thrive. my thoughts got darker & darker. i'd wake up in the mornin & be sad/disappointed i'd survived the night

this is no way to live

i snapped a few days ago. said to myself "if i'm destined to struggle wherever i go, i'd rather do it somewhere i actually Wanted to be in the first place" & started applyin for housin in denver. waitin to hear back from my first option & have secured a backup with a friend with a spare room for 6mo in case that falls through

right now i need help gettin the hell out! i've got first month's rent already put back, i can continue to collect unemployment until i land a good job in denver, & i'm already reachin out to find somewhere to work. i just don't have anywhere to go for another month or two to save the money i'll need to travel almost 1200mi (~1900km) back to colorado. i'll need at least $500 to make gas/food happen durin the time it will take me to get there, & i need it by the first of july (38 days from day of postin)

please help me escape!!!

ca: $jupitervega

vmo: jupitervega

ppal

please please please donate whatever you're able! pls boost!

thank u so much for readin, pls have an item from my emergency happy photo folder for yr enjoyment

[neuroticboyfriend]

Hi all, i need a bit of reassurance. I know none of you are professionals but, I've been having these strange attacks that are starting to scare me. This is what they're like:

Symptoms:

• Severe neck pain that radiates to the face and under the skull (right side only)

• Mild numbness on side of face/arm (right)

• Blurry vision in right eye only

• Sudden severe fatigue

• Mild disorientation and confusion

• Mild speech difficulty

• Moderate difficulty walking

Onset: Sudden - Duration: 30 mins to 1.5 hours

Frequency: Week of 5/26/24: 2 to 3 times (has occured prior to this)

Relevant conditions: Cervical radiculopathy, migraine headaches, connective tissue disorder

Relevant family history: Aneurysm (father, at 18), Stroke (paternal aunt, in 30s)

...Basically, I'm not crazy for wanting to get aneurysm/stroke/TIA ruled out, right? I should call my doc or insurance's nurse line? Even if it's a migraine, I shouldn't risk it given my family history? Last time it happened was yesterday and the pain was the worst it's been so far.

Also just need to write this out for my sanity cuz staring at this, my reasonable side says better safe than sorry. Ugh. I hate having been gaslit so much.

[mymreaderlibrary]

I need more old man yoai. Its just, it's good soup, ya know. I want them to get a house and adopt a teenage kid. Just family stuff ya know. Its good soup, ya know.

SORRY THE SOUP TOOK SO LONG, but I did my best to try and fulfill this ask. There were some changes to your idea but I hope it still works 😭

Old man yaoi pt 3 here we go

[long distance, weird fucky timeline, use of y/n, mention of the soap-cident except he’s fine because I said so, minor homophobia, some angst, an original character, and my adamance to be slow as fuck with romance].

[length: 2227 words]

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Getting to finally kiss each other didn't open the floodgates per say but it did give them enough respite that their "tenseness" subsided. The rest of the 141 were relieved that the pair had somehow righted their differences, even if they still didn't know what those differences were, and Soap congratulated them on "making up".

It was awkward for a bit and while it was nice knowing the feelings were recuperated neither knew what was too much or too little so they rarely made any advances. When they did finally feel confident enough, usually in complete privacy and far late into the night, it would be a lot of soft touches. Thumbs running over knuckles, shoulders bumping lightly together, maybe even a hug if they were feeling bold (though it was more like just leaning on each other as they never raised their arms higher than the hip). They kissed a good few times again but it was like a rare treat. 

Despite everything neither had actually been with another man before, y/n got close at a gay bar a while ago but a light shined directly into his eyes and he got a migraine that forced him to leave. The unfortunate side effect of previous head injuries. Meanwhile Price had casual relationships with women in the past but not men, however it's not like they lasted for too long anyways as his devotion to his work spared little room for it. So sue them if they didn't know what to do, this was all brand new and definitely badly timed.

They kept up in a pattern; mission, meetings, and then downtime. Complete a good weeks worth of work, discuss their next steps (and start on them), then pull out a drink and chat. Consider it just their luck that the night things finally felt like they were heating up, privacy was near guaranteed, and tomorrow posed no urgent challenge that Soap decided knocking wasn't necessary and stood there bewildered by the doorway till he caught their attention. Johnny was incredibly apologetic and promised not to tell anyone but the two older men decided it would be better to just come clean before something like that happened again. Laswell of course wasn't surprised, but Gaz and Ghost had a momentary pause that they quickly reassured wasn't from judging just surprise. Overall it went over smoothly and it had the added bonus of giving Price and y/n more alone time. 

(Note: however, the second it was clear to Soap he could freely chat about Price and y/n's relationship it became open season for the worst jokes imaginable. When Soap wasn't instantly flayed, the other guys would join in with a particular "dad joke collector" Ghost staking his claim in the torment). 

-

By the time y/n's work was over Price was hesitant to let him go, knowing they would not have this closeness again unless one of them gave up their current lifestyle. It was honestly a bit tempting, Price had spent about his whole life in the military and it wasn't like anyone could really judge a well seasoned man for retiring. But instead y/n gave him his phone number and the two split ways no matter how badly they yearned otherwise.

And that's how they stayed for the next couple of years, Price always calling from a burner and y/n being left to wait for him by the landline. Bi-monthly they would chat, y/n giving life updates and Price venting about how the 141 were going to give him a damn heart attack. Y/n got service dog, a great dane named Lucy who he couldn't help but boast about to the point the others wanted updates on her too. Price could sometimes hear her sniffing at the phone and was dying to see her in person. It relieved him to know y/n had someone (or something) there with him as the other man had admitted to feeling lonely at home. Still a big part of Price wished that someone could've been him. 

Over time Price reconsidered his stance on retirement with a series of back to back events being his solidifying his choice. It started off with a call from y/n, his family had come into town to visit after years of radio silence and at first it seemed to be going well. That was until his parents asked about his relationship. They sewed a lot of seeds of doubt, not privy to their son dating a male but also not believing it was serious enough to be real considering they never saw Price. His parents were happy to grind their heel into any anxieties their son had which ended up in a full blow up during his mother's birthday. Y/n ended up storming out after his mom made a show of mocking his relationship in front of extended family. He was humiliated that his parents could still get a rise out of him even in his old age. Price had gotten a call from y/n afterwards who sounded completely exhausted. Price desperately wanted to be there to comfort his lover but ultimately the only thing he could do was verbally console him. 

Within the same week Price began noticing a small shake to his hands. Nothing serious but still not something you'd want to see, especially as a sniper. He couldn't tell if it was age, an injury, or stress but it left him with an odd feeing in his stomach. Like his body was trying to tell him something. 

And a little while after that it seemed Soap decided to deliver on that heart attack joke. Out cold in a hospital bed with a list of injuries too long to name, the scotsman had everyone in a panic. Ghost in particular didn't take it well and, while he was good at being outwardly calm, anyone who knew the man proper could tell he was terrified. He just had this vague vacant look in his eye, it wasn't hard to determine he was probably disassociating. Gaz on the other hand tried to keep some semblance of positivity even if he was running on empty. Not the kind of peppy “everything is gonna be okay!” positivity but a rather light kind. The type where you try not to let your own doubt eat you upside by never verbally stating reality. He didn't want this to be the end so he wasn't about to act like it, but he was undoubtedly scared shitless.

Price had called y/n after the incident and it became his turn to be consoled. He wasn't a crier but he imagined if he was there would've been at least a few. He had dealt with shit like this before, but the secret was it never got easier you just got better at being quiet about it. He knew y/n understood that.

-

However by some grace of god Soap woke up. The man was shockingly resilient and not about to let himself get felled by just anything. The asshole was even joking within the first few minutes of consciousness much to Price's chagrin but Ghost and Gaz couldn't have been happier. Those two stayed with Soap for a while and Price was certain he heard scot getting bitched out from across the hall. Make no mistake, even while mad at him for being reckless they were glad to be ranting to his face rather than a casket. 

Y/n got another call after that, the bi-monthly quota quickly exceeded, to deliver the good news. The call was admittedly shorter than their usual but it left them both feeling far more hopeful than the last. When Price closed his burner he couldn't help but think about being there with y/n in person, getting to say these things to his face, even getting to hold him. He hadn't been kissed in years now and he yearned for a moment of peace like that especially after all that stress. A silent decision was made, a bit impulsively, but it was a long time coming. 

After Soap was back up and running the man started taking missions again, this time with an extra watchful eye from the team. But to everyone's surprise one person wouldn't be joining them. In an uncommonly personal meeting, Price announced his retirement to the rest of the 141. Soap had opposed in a panic thinking this was due to his accident, and while it might've inspired part of it, Price assured him this was something he had been thinking about for a while. He felt it was time and well... he had someone he knew was waiting for him. 

The meeting, while bittersweet, left off on a note of pride. Not everyone can say they retired by will and especially not a man of Price's caliber. The team were happy for him but also demanded he try to stay in touch even if only slightly. With a hug from everyone (a shoulder pat from Gaz, a crushing squeeze from Soap, a light hold from Ghost, and a rather sentimental one from Laswell) he said his goodbyes and gave y/n another call.

Y/n sounded a little frazzled upon picking up and confusingly Price noted the sound of another voice in the background, distinctly female. As it turns out it was one of y/n's cousins who, after the birthday disaster, decided to get in contact with him. She felt bad for how the rest of their family had treated him and wanted to make sure he was doing alright. Apparently Ying, as she turned out to be named, was absolutely enamored with Lucy and was giving the dane the play session of a lifetime hence the sounds of chaos. Price instantly eased, especially with how relaxed y/n began to sound as he had settled in to his cousins presence.

They chatted like usual but y/n could hear a strong sense of sappiness to Price's voice as he closed the phone. 

It took about 3 days for Price to make his way over to y/n apartment and to say he got a warm welcome would be an understatement. The ex-captain hadn't actually told his lover about the retirement or his planned arrival so the other man was completely surprised, but overjoyed. It had taken years but they were finally here together again. Holding back felt unnecessary, they kissed right in the doorway as they clutched at each others bodies. The sensation made everything so much more real and they likely would've stood there for way longer if Lucy hadn't poked her nose into them. Price was was thrilled to finally see the big mutt in person and she took a quick shine to him.

-

Within a couple weeks later Price had tried to settle in but it wasn't working. The apartment was just too damn small especially with two grown men and a giant dog in it. Lucy often had to be taken out to the local dog park for exercise and Ying came in to visit from time to time which only cramped the space more. It was practically inevitable that they were going to search for a bigger home so they eventually started a search. Originally they looked into more apartments, but just one peek at their current set up (and into Lucy's big brown eyes) they knew they needed something much bigger.

 The search took a while but they eventually settled on simple cabin with a good two acres. It was remote enough that they didn't have neighbors, but also close enough to civilization that they could keep in touch with Ying. Plus there was a lake not too far from it which made for a great fishing spot. Price did most of the packing but they didn't have too many items anyways so one small u-haul was all they needed.

The cabin had a strong musky scent from the wood, the floorboards would creek with each, and the whole place was perfect. Settling into this was much easier, something about it just felt natural. Maybe it was the amount of room, maybe it was the peaceful location, or maybe it was they were together. Whatever the reason, Price felt he had made the right choice. 

-

Come half a year later, they've accumulated a few things to decorate their house, had their fair share of fishing days out by the lake, and maybe made a good couple of messes or two. Ying was an active visitor and even brought her husband along with her from time to time. Seeing her car pull up into the driveway was a common sight but this time she walked with a nervous excitement which was practically suffocating. Y/n let her in and she asked if she could have a talk with him. The two went over to the couch to chat as Price went into the kitchen to make a quick coffee. He could hear a series of spikes in tone, serious, excited, antsy, all forming together until he finally popped into the room to see a smile on his love and his cousins face.

Ying was pregnant with her first child and wanted to know if they could be the godfathers.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

The past few weeks have been pretty shitty for me too (I know the depression pit myself all too well). I hope yours get a bit better from now on. As always, Angel Neil <3

WIP Wednesday (4/24) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 174)

The two of them discuss Neil’s printer-destroying powers, the weather, what Andrew had for breakfast, migraines, and finally circle back around to Neil’s birth name. He won’t offer any hints or clues or anything, so Andrew guesses several of the worst names he can think of: Elvis, Leroy, Barnaby, Calvin, Bradley, Raymond, Chauncey, Willard, Humphrey.

But Neil laughs at each of those and gives no indication that any of them is right. When Andrew complains that he’s not taking the game seriously, Neil insists they’re not playing a game. 

“Of course we are. You have a secret that I’m trying to guess.” Andrew says. “It’s a game.”

Neil just rolls his eyes, “You’re annoying.”

“So I’ve been told. Too bad you’re stuck with me.” Andrew says. Then, to his displeasure, he sees his car pull into the parking lot. Oh shit. It’s that late already? He sighs and starts to stand up, making sure to collect his pilfered accessories as he does.

“Where are you going?”

“They’re back from class,” Andrew says, jerking his thumb in the direction of the parking lot. “I don’t want Aaron getting in my face about where I’ve been. So… I’m going to beat them into the dorm and act like I’ve been there the whole time.”

“Sneaky.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a mastermind.” Andrew says, peeking over the ledge to see the passenger door open and Kevin steps out of the car with a couple pizza boxes in his hand. Oh, excellent. When Aaron gets out of the car, Andrew takes a large step back before turning to look at Neil. “Was it Aaron?”

Neil glances up at him, “What?”

“Your name,” Andrew clarifies as he walks backwards towards the door. “If your name used to be Aaron, I will throw up over the side of this building. That is a threat.”

Neil laughs, “No. I’ve never gone by Aaron. Or Andrew or Nicky or Kevin. None of your teammates' names either."

Andrew stares at him for a second, trying to determine if he’s lying. But it’s damn near impossible.

“They’re heading inside.” Neil says, watching from his invisible vantage point. “Hurry up and get downstairs.”

“Alright, I’m going.” Andrew puts his hand on the doorknob, but hesitates before opening it. “Will you be here when I come back?”

“Of course I will. Don’t ask stupid questions.” Neil says. Andrew didn’t think it was a stupid question, considering Neil’s earlier comment about going bye-bye and staying that way. But he nods.

“Later, Neil.”

“Later.”

[abbyromanoff]

I’ve had the WORST headache today so can I request some fluff/comfort with nat taking care of reader who’s really sick with a migraine but reader just tried to tell nat she’s fine but nat can see straight through her and eventually reader just breaks down crying in Nats arms and let’s her take care of them <3

Migraines

Parings: Natasha Romanoff x sick!reader

Warnings: headaches and migraines, reader being mentally exhausted basically, think that’s it

Word count: 705

Summary: it’s just the ask once again (and I’m sorry anon, I’ve been having the same things as well but I hope you’re feeling better now :))

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

Walking into your shared bathroom you took what felt like the hundredth ibuprofen of the day. You had to do this a lot as you tended to get migraines and headaches often. You didn’t know why, you ate healthy, trained and worked out, and never took any supplements that could cause these irritating, painful headaches. Nat noticed, she noticed everything. But whenever she would bring it up you’d end up denying the fact and just said you were tired. She tried her best to help but you were too damn stubborn. This was the third time this week that you had a migraine, it was only Thursday. You sat down at your desk and got back to work, filling out mission report after mission report.

It was getting to be too much, the words on the paper didn’t make sense and you could barely open your eyes, even when you did the light would hurt you even more. Getting frustrated you threw the papers off of your desk and slammed your hands down, trying your best not to let tears arise to the surface. It seemed to be your unlucky week as Nat walked in the moment you broke down, rushing to your side and examining your face. When she saw water in your eyes and your breathing unsteady she held you softly in her arms.

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re okay. I’m here now.” Her words soothed you yet hurt you more, the noise hurt your head and your ears.

“Shut up! Please! It hurts.” Nat knew you were just saying those words out of frustration and pain so she tried not to take them to heart.

“What hurts baby? Can you tell me what is hurting you?” “My head, it’s-it’s pounding. It hurts so bad, a-and the light hurts my eyes and noise makes my head, like, throb in a way. The words, they were- I couldn’t read it Natty.” You struggled to form a sentence and your girlfriend quickly rushed you into your bed. She grabbed an ice pack and placed it on your head, doing research previously and finding out the cold helps with migraines. Turning off every light and closing every blind she made sure no brightness could effect you.

“I’m sorry for telling you to shut up.” You were able to form at least a few words as Nat was pacing around trying to find things to help. She knew noise hurt you so instead of speaking she placed her hand over your own, assuring you in a way that she understood and wasn’t mad. Many blankets were put on top of you and she adjusted your body in a way that no pressure could get to your head. You watched as she ran out of the room and came back minutes later with water, soup and saltine crackers. She placed everything down and brought you head up, helping you drink some of the water.

Everything was too much, the pain you felt was astronomical, Nat caring for you made you feel overwhelmed with emotions, you couldn’t help but cry into her arms. Your arms wrapped around her back as you cried into her chest, finally letting all of your emotions go. She held you and rested her head lightly on your own, massaging your scalp and drawing circles on your back in a soothing matter.

Laying you down on the bed she wrapped you back up in the snug blankets and kissed your forehead, letting you get some sleep. She was starting to walk out of the room before you stopped her, “Wait.” She turned to look at you, ready to get whatever you needed. “Can you stay?” You nervously asked, scared that she would say no. She rolled her eyes in a joking manner and laid beside you, holding you in her arms as she drifted off to sleep.

The next day when Fury came up repeatedly apologizing for giving you too much work with a stern looming Nat behind him you laughed, knowing that she brutally yelled at him for giving you so much stress. Nat walked up to you and hugged you from behind, “You okay now baby?”

“I’m much better now that I’m with you.”

[masterwords]

all is bright

Summary: After a long series of failed dates, Hotch and Morgan finally come to their senses thanks to some well-placed mistletoe.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: stomach illness mentioned, migraine, foyet mention...99% mutual pining turned first kiss

Read on AO3: all is bright

Notes: Hey there! It's been a hot minute since I posted anything. A long holiday vacation and some major flooding in our town and our house has meant not much writing time. But, I have this for you today. <3 The first of many wintry Christmas themed fics this month, and one of two that are not Secret Santa gifts! This one was written for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party Challenge using the prompt: Characters end up beneath very suspiciously placed mistletoe at the holiday party. (I have a 2nd story in the works for this challenge as well, different prompt but same pairing of course.)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I saw you last night,” Derek said casually, stepping into Hotch’s office with his bag still slung over one shoulder. To Hotch he looked a little tired but he was dressed up in a black button down and slacks, put together in a way he wasn’t usually and it was a little distracting. “At the bar.”

“And you didn’t say hello?” Hotch barely looked up, just a flick of his eyes, then back at his paperwork. Derek entered like that was an invitation, just a little further. He’d wait another minute before coming in completely, let Hotch warm up or push him on his way. He didn’t have a lot of time anyway.

“You looked...occupied. A date?”

“You could call it that. It was an attempt anyway.”

“Good for you!” He meant that, too. Haley had been dead a year, and it seemed to rock him right back to the moment of his divorce, maybe worse. He’d been paralyzed completely, but the loneliness had started to feel crushing. Hopeless. And the longer it went on, the harder it felt to claw his way back out. Derek took his opportunity to drag a chair over and perch himself right in front of Hotch’s desk, to sit and talk with him for a moment. A spot of real connection after a long period of silence. He thought things would be different, but they’d settled back into uncomfortable silence as Hotch retreated into himself.

Hotch couldn’t help looking up at the sudden intrusion.

“It didn’t go well.” He didn’t look too upset by it. He kept his features carefully guarded, but it did sting to admit. He’d met Noel at the gym, not exactly the best place to meet someone but not the worst by a long shot. They’d started going around the same time, Hotch because he needed to supplement his physical therapy as he attempted to regain his fitness after Foyet’s attack and Noel because he was trying to lose ten pounds for a part. Of course he was an actor. He thought Haley would have laughed at that. In any case, they’d managed to talk about theatre while running on the treadmill, avoiding any topics of real import. After a couple of weeks and a successful audition, Noel casually asked Hotch out for a drink. “To celebrate,” he said and Hotch found that he had no real good reason to say no.

He was so damn lonely.

He gave himself a fifty fifty chance at success, having been out of the dating game long enough to be rusty but he still had a pretty firm grasp of the basics. By the end of the night he knew it wasn’t a match. Even when Noel said “I’ll call you,” and tried to kiss him on the cheek, he knew that was it. And that was okay. Like Rossi told him earlier that morning, at least he went out and tried. He got out of the house, he met someone new, he tried an appletini for the first time because his date insisted it was the best drink the bartender made (and hated every second of it, the cloying sweetness making him gag on every sip). He got out of his comfort zone and the loneliness was abated some, overall a success even if the attempt at a match was an abysmal failure.

“How is that even possible? Aaron Hotchner doesn’t fail at anything.”

Hotch sighed and put his pen down, knowing that he was unlikely to get out of this conversation without giving up some details. He put on his bravest face and sucked in a breath, not thrilled about admitting this failure to Derek Morgan of all people. There were layers to that reasoning. “For starters, he was attached to his phone the whole time. His notification sound was Minnie Mouse. He wanted to get all of my social media handles and seemed incredibly concerned when I told him that I had none. He asked me how I could possibly live without having at least one.”

“Yeah, I run into that a lot too.” Derek wouldn’t comment on the Minnie Mouse bit, but the guy sounded like a disaster. He was a little glad it didn’t work out because from his vantage point, that guy was hot as hell and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been a little jealous. From where he sat, it looked like Hotch was smiling and having a good time. He had to fight every instinct in his body not to go break in and ask Hotch to dance when the jukebox kicked up with some old Dwight Yoakam.

“He wanted to take photos of me and I asked him not to. At one point he insisted that SnapChat was safe for me to use because the photos disappeared. I tried to be polite but it’s hard to tell someone you can’t be in their photos without explaining why. They tend to think you’re just a jerk.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that my job requires me to operate cautiously.” That was an understatement, of course, and there was a lot more to it than that. He’d been stalked and stabbed in his own home, it wasn’t just his job that made him operate with an abundance of caution. He’d always been reserved even with people he knew well, more since Haley died. He’d practically sealed himself off. This date...he was stepping so far outside of his comfort zone and realizing quickly how very not ready he still was. He might never actually be ready.

Derek just nodded and smiled, leaning back in the chair. He crossed his legs and couldn’t hide the jaw cracking yawn that followed the movement.

“Late night?” Hotch asked, changing the subject abruptly. He’d had enough of talking about Noel, in fact if he never talked about him or saw him again he thought that would be just fine. It might have been a worthwhile experience but it still hurt. There was an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite shake and it didn’t have as much to do with Noel as it did simply being aware that he didn’t know how to do any of this. He wasn’t used to that feeling. And if he didn’t know how to do this, then he couldn’t shake the loneliness of an empty bed. “I saw you too, you know.”

“Yeah? So you saw me get my ass kicked to the curb huh?”

“It looked a little heated, but I figured you had it handled.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that, but I’ll bounce back. Plenty of fish in the sea.” He was so tired that he’d started using his mom’s words now. Every time he told her about a heart break, which was more often than he’d like to admit (and more often than anyone would believe) she told him the same thing. “You’ll be okay, my darling boy. You’re a catch.” He was starting to seriously doubt that statement.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

“Classic BAU problem. I don’t make time for him. He’s been asking me to go on this cruise with him. And okay, yeah, some time off would be nice...but you know how that is. And I love beaches and sand and cocktails...but a cruise? Man, I don’t wanna be on a boat for a week with a bunch of screaming kids and drunk retirees.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Hotch had been on a cruise once with Haley and her family, before Jack. It was worse than Derek could imagine, of that he was certain. It had been a sensory nightmare for a man who enjoys peace and quiet. Even the room was overstimulating, and when he got back on land all he wanted was to hide in his backyard for a week recovering, tinkering, gardening. For a man who loves boats, the novelty wore off fast. He didn’t think Derek could do it.

“Right? That’s what I said. But he got these tickets, all inclusive, and he’s been after me for weeks.”

“I’d approve the time off, if you wanted to give it a shot.”

“Nah. I realized last night that we’ve been trying to force something that wasn’t right anyway. The physical stuff was fun but that’s about it. We’re incompatible. He likes soccer.”

“I like soccer,” Hotch said a little indignantly, his lips ticking up at the corners in a little smirk. Derek laughed.

“Well there’s no accounting for taste, but I can forgive you for it.”

Hotch let out a small laugh and lifted his pen again, just for something to do with his hands. He ran his fingers along the smooth line of it and flipped it over his knuckles. There have been times over the years that he’s wondered about he and Derek, if things were different, if they’d met under different circumstances. Playing in the land of make believe, that’s what his dad would have called it. No what ifs, those didn’t exist and would never exist because the time had passed. They were compatible in nearly every way, sometimes to the point of it being a little ridiculous, but he simply could not indulge himself in that way. He couldn’t ask Derek out, not ever, because it would be so wildly inappropriate of him to cross that line. And Derek would probably not be interested in him anyway, that was a pipe dream. Having things in common didn’t exactly mean romantically compatible, he was smart enough to know that.

Except when he glanced up again and met Derek’s eyes, there was something there that looked dangerous and inviting. Like he was indulging the same thoughts. It was so hard to turn the inner profiler off, especially when you can’t do anything about what’s on your mind. He’d be silly to think Derek hadn’t ever considered it too, really, even if it had only been a passing thought. Another what if. It took them almost no time at all to discover that each of them was bisexual, even if Hotch was married at the time. Haley made it well known to Derek over plenty of late night dinners and too many glasses of wine that Hotch was a theater kid, “if you know what I mean”. And Derek, well he was simply confident. It had taken him a long time to gain that confidence, a lot of years of hiding and shame built up before he decided it didn’t serve him and he was losing precious time to be happy. Plenty of fish. He was a catch. He deserved to be happy, or so his mother said. Fran Morgan said a lot of things, he had come to find out.

Except as he sat in that chair across from Hotch, he knew that kind of real happiness was just out of reach. Because he’d come to realize that Hotch was that happiness. And so he became Captain Ahab and there weren’t plenty of fish, there was one white whale. Hotch’s principals were too strong, his code when it came to work was ingrained in him so deeply that he would never ask Derek out, and he couldn’t just ask his boss out. None of it was fair.

“I suppose things could be worse,” Hotch said finally, offering a small ray of hope. “Single isn’t the worst thing in the world. It does get a bit lonely, though.”

“At least you got the kid. He’s great.” Now. He had the kid now. Because Haley died and now he was forced into being a single parent. Derek felt awful for saying it but Hotch didn’t seem to think too hard about it, he just nodded in response.

“You have Clooney.”

“Well then we’re both doing just fine, huh? Anyway, I’ve got a meeting with Strauss in fifteen. I should drop my things off in my office before I have to see her.”

Hotch hummed in response and watched Derek lift his bag, heading for the door. He paused there in the door frame and looked back, only for a moment, offering a small smile.

“Plenty of fish in the sea,” he said, a little sadly and his white whale nodded. “Don’t lose hope.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

(x)

The holidays always seemed to creep up on him. One minute it was summer, he was spending every minute with Jack he could outside of work, soaking up the sunshine and the little adventures that felt huge in the eyes of his young son. They spent a lot of time by the small courtyard pool, Hotch lying in the shade of a huge sun-bleached umbrella with a nostalgic 90s pattern still barely visible while Jack and his multitude of bright floating toys find endless amusement in the pool. Occasionally some of the neighbors would pop down, offer him a beer, let the other kids play a while, but it was always them first, them every day. It was their little sanctuary surrounded by cast iron gates and a bright blue sky. All day, camped out. He couldn’t go far, couldn’t take big long trips, he was tied to his job but they could go to the pool. Every day, sometimes. He’d pack up some hot dogs or take a frozen pizza from the oven and they would eat and enjoy the water well into the evening. It seemed to last forever and be over in the blink of an eye. Suddenly they were back to school, carving pumpkins, trick-or-treating, cooking a little Thanksgiving dinner for two (or three if Jessica didn’t have plans). And then he blinked again and it was Christmas Eve and he hadn’t done anything but work his tail end off and try to squeeze in some shopping when he could. It was Christmas Eve and he hadn’t taken Jack to see Santa, he hadn’t done much of anything.

Part of that this year he could chalk up to illnesses that had stacked up, one after another in their home. School had away of sucker punching them, and just when he thought they were coming out of one they’d be hit with another. The last illness was a brutal stomach virus that terrorized his home for a whole weekend. First Jack, then Jessica, then him, all taken down. None of them felt well enough to do anything more Christmasy than turn on a holiday movie and lay on the couch hoping not to need the bathroom. Hoping to sleep. Dreaming of eating something again, anything at that point. Hotch could have killed for a bite of dry wheat toast, but even that was too much during that awful weekend.

Jack bounced back first, followed by Jessica, and finally his body got the memo and allowed him to start eating and drinking again. “You’ve been through a lot in the last year,” Jessica said when he moaned about taking longer to feel better. He didn’t bounce back, he was crawling. “You have to give yourself time.”

He was still not feeling great, but he was back at work after almost a week. That awful weekend left him drained, and though he’d intended to go to work the following Monday, his body had other plans. He was knocked on his ass by a migraine from hell, no matter what tricks he employed it was completely debilitating. Three full days on his couch unable to do anything but the most basic functions of living. Jessica called it his illness hangover, everyone was feeling better and his body finally ran out of fumes to run on. He’d been taking care of everyone in spite of his own needs and when Jess went back to work and Jack went back to school, he all but collapsed. It wasn’t pretty. He cried more than once out of sheer frustration, a particularly low point he wasn’t proud of. But Jack made him a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and raisins and Jessica picked up his dry cleaning and did his grocery shopping and somehow he saw his way through it to the other side.

Three days was his limit. By the fourth day he was at least able to be upright, he could function. He’d be able to work at his desk and push through a pile of consults and administrative work. His jaw ached down into his neck and shoulders and he was wearing his glasses instead of his contacts out of pure necessity, but otherwise he was doing alright. Just exhausted. So exhausted, he didn’t even care that Christmas was almost over. And neither did Jack, really. They were all sort of ready to be done with it. He thought the hardest part would be dealing with the grief of a full year without Haley, their first real Christmas without her (because he could barely remember the first one, it was all such a blur of pain and work that he wasn’t even sure they did anything at all).

His routine upon entering his office was simple. Flip on the overhead light, do a quick walk through, set his briefcase in a corner within arm’s reach, turn on the space heater beneath his desk. After that first round, he would walk back and turn on the lamp, turning off the overhead light. Headache lighting. Finally, he started a pot of coffee. He could get a cup from the common area, but he had the stuff he liked right here and it would hide the dusty smell of his space heater.

With that done, he sat himself down and reclined in his chair, breathing a few times just to settle himself. Bring him here into the moment, ease the throbbing in his temples. He would make it a few hours at least if he moved slowly, if he was deliberate about how he spent his time.

His eyes caught on a small envelope, bright red and addressed in glitter pen to Sir Hotch. Penelope’s looping scrawl with a heart in place of the o in Hotch. He wondered how long it had been sitting there and he felt a small pang of guilt over it. Ridiculous and misplaced guilt for not being here, for leaving his team in the lurch. With a little hesitation, he grabbed his letter opener and sliced through the top of the envelope, sliding out a small white invitation emblazoned with brightly wrapped gifts and other various Christmas drawings. Hand drawn, he could tell. She made it herself.

A party invitation, at first glance. His eyes scanned the little pictures first, then lit on the actual information and he felt his stomach twist.

That night. 7pm. Bring a white elephant gift.

“Sir!” Penelope exclaimed as he read through the note a second time. “I didn’t realize you’d be back today. I sort of thought you’d be out until after the holiday...how are you feeling?” She didn’t bother to try and mask the way she looked him over with concern in her features. He didn't hold it against her, he knew he looked like death warmed over.

“Better, thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’m only seeing your invitation now.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come. I’m sure you still need to rest. I actually just wanted to come up and say not to worry about it...I didn’t know you were sick when I brought it in here.”

He scanned the invitation again and offered her a smile. “You know, we haven’t done a single fun thing this season. I’m hoping to take Jack to the mall to see Santa tonight as a last ditch effort to save the holiday, it’s near your place. We could stop by afterward.”

The way Penelope’s face lit up set his heart on fire. She never expected him to come, that much was clear. Even if he hadn’t been sick, she had already prepared herself for him to politely decline. And he almost did, too. He knew he wasn’t likely to feel up for a party that night, he didn’t feel up for one right then either, but something told him he had to go for it. Even if it was just a quick pop in.

“That sounds...so great. Thank you sir. You don’t have to bring a white elephant gift...just...you guys just come. That’s the gift. Having you and Jack in my home.”

“I’ll bring something. I don’t want to throw off the count.” He smiled at that, hiding the fact that while he’d always been good at gift giving, white elephant exchanges had always eluded him. He was better at sincere than silly or broad. He’d have to ask Jessica, she would know what to buy. “Is there anything else you need? Food or drinks, utensils?”

She was beaming now, hardly able to contain herself. He could scarcely believe that him coming to her party was such a good thing. “Nope. Nothing. Just come.”

(x)

From the street, they could already see Penelope’s apartment. Jack had been there a few times for gatherings and once or twice when Hotch was in a pickle and needed someone to watch him for a few hours. She had really come through for him more than once. Her apartment window was lit up with bright twinkling lights from the inside, a gaudy Christmas tree drenched in decadent decorations right in the middle of the display. Shadows moved at the periphery, everyone was already inside. He knew he’d be late but he hadn’t realized just how late. The line to see Santa was shockingly long this late in the season, he really thought he’d be one of very few failures standing in line waiting for the last glimpse of the man in red. He had to leave early to begin delivering gifts, of course, so they were on a pretty strict clock. He made it just in time.

“Are we late, dad?” Jack asked as they entered the building, the air inside warming their cold noses and fingers. He was parked a few blocks away, somewhere with easy access to the mall and her place.

“A little,” he replied, nudging Jack past the elevator. They took the stairs up, Hotch insisting they’d warm up faster if they get their blood pumping. Jack didn’t think that was true, he just guessed his dad was afraid of elevators. He never took them if he didn’t have to.

They could hear Christmas music coming from Penelope’s apartment when they entered the hallway, and as they got closer they could begin to make out the song. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, the good version Hotch thought. The classic. He enjoyed all Christmas music, but he had a special affection for the oldies, the stuff his mom used to play on crackling vinyl when he was a kid.

“The Home Alone song!” Jack squealed, rushing toward the door and knocking excitedly. They had just watched that movie over the weekend and he’d been cleaning up all sorts of Jack’s little traps ever since. No wet bandits would be getting into their apartment on Jack’s watch. Penelope answered the door in a dress that almost hurt Hotch’s eyes, twinkling lights all over that reflected off of his glasses matched the biggest smile he’d ever seen.

“You made it! Did you see Santa?” She crouched to talk directly to Jack right away, leaving him standing there watching. He scanned the party and noticed that the entire team was packed inside of that little apartment.

“Yeah! I did!”

“What was he like? Did he smell like cookies? I always remember him smelling like sugar cookies.”

“He smelled like...candy canes!” Jack wrapped his arms around her neck when she extended her arms to him without hesitation. His hug was full and tight.

“What did you ask him for?”

“It’s a secret!”

“Oh, oh yeah...I guess I forgot that part. Come inside you two! It’s cold out here!” As Hotch entered, he extended his hand with a small wrapped gift inside. It was a little box, the smallest thing on the table and he was a little concerned he chose the wrong thing. He’d had plenty of ideas, all of which Jessica said were wrong or boring – she made the choice in the end, insisting that he would bring the one thing everyone in this crowd would need and no one would ever think of. No one would ever see it coming, especially from him. He wasn’t sure that was such a great thing, but it was done now. He’d committed.

They dove into the gift exchange almost immediately. He barely had time to get a mug of coffee in his hand before they were choosing numbers and stealing gifts from one another. His little box stayed put for a long time, almost insultingly long really. The big gifts were pulled first, followed by the more obvious secondary gifts. By the time his number was called there weren’t many left, and his options were slim so he decided just to take the box he’d brought and slink back into his little corner. Worried the gift was wrong, or might be interpreted incorrectly, he hoped he could just go back home with it and maybe return it after Christmas.

Once everyone was holding a gift from the pile, the real fun began – Penelope announced that one at a time, in their original order first, everyone could begin stealing gifts. One exceptionally large box made the rounds the longest, not because anyone thought the gift would be particularly good so much as they were curious what was hiding inside. Reid had brought the gift, Hotch knew it just by the look on his face as people passed it around and around curiously and he imagined it probably had a sock or something of equally little value but high amusement inside. For someone from Las Vegas, Reid's poker face left a lot to be desired.

Out of nowhere, Derek appeared in front of him with a grin. “I want that,” he said, indicating Hotch’s little gift. Reluctantly Hotch handed it to him and accepted what he had in his hand in return. They couldn’t trade back. That was it. Derek was the final trade and everyone was stuck with what they had.

His heart sank at the thought of Derek opening what he brought, of all people.

“Okay, on the count of three...everyone open your gift! Good luck!”

Hotch let Jack open his gift, even though Jack had a pile of gifts beneath the tree of his own to open when it was time. The little boy scrunched his nose once he got a peek and handed the gift to his dad to finish opening – it was a pair of mittens, nothing interesting to him. Nothing fun at all. He rushed back to where Henry sat beside the tree, eager to get into the really good stuff. Hotch examined the mittens, pulling them gingerly from the rest of the wrapping and holding them up to his hands – they would fit. Penelope made them, he could tell her handiwork (and he’d seen her in her office toiling over them during her lunch hour more than once in the last month). Mittens weren’t exactly his style but his hands did get cold easily and they were a deep, rich gray flecked with blue. He could wear them when the arctic chill in his office got unbearable. His circulation wasn’t what it used to be, if it ever was good in the first place. He tried not to watch Derek too closely when he opened his gift – pulling the little velvet bag out of the box and examining the contents with an amused smile on his face. There were three oversized wooden dice inside with words and little pictures burned into the sides. Date night dice, Jessica insisted they all needed this gift. She’d been hoping JJ would get it, probably, but each of them could use the help in that department. Date nights were spontaneous at best in their line of work, and you didn’t have time to sit and talk it out or make long term plans...it had to be quick and it had to be fun. Make the most of whatever time you get. She’d picked out the appropriate dice, simple food & activities, though she did try to push the sexy ones at him more than once. He drew the line at sexual gifts for his subordinates. Well, he drew the line quite a ways before that even, but that was definitely not going to happen.

The look on Derek’s face as he read the sides of the die made him smile in spite of himself. He seemed pleased with them, or amused maybe, and carefully slipped them into his pocket before heading back to the kitchen for a new drink. Hotch thought about following for a topper on his coffee but Jack’s voice called him to the tree where Penelope wanted the kids to start tearing into their pile of gifts before they went rabid and did tore apart her whole apartment. He made his way through the crowd and stood beside JJ and Will, the feeling of joy at seeing their kids happy and the dread of having to take all of this mess home and find places for it almost palpable between them. JJ was holding a small disposable camera in her hand that looked like it had been pulled right out of someone’s attic. “That from Reid?” he asked and she nodded, smiling. A little yellow Kodak disposable camera inside that enormous box. Reid outdid himself.

“I haven’t seen one of these since college. You think it still works?”

“Only one way to find out,” he replied, hoping she might test it out. The film was probably long since ruined, but the thought of having some of these memories preserved in that way was enticing. He’d always loved the look of real film. Or maybe he was just a nostalgic, sentimental old man now.

“They really went all out,” JJ said, shaking her head as her son ripped wrapping paper to shreds like a wolverine. “I don’t think Henry’s room is big enough.”

Hotch smiled and nodded in agreement, watching as Jack made it into the first of his many gifts. The whole team brought something for the kids, it was too much. Superheroes, books, legos, everything he loved. “Dad, look!” It was squealed over and over as Jack held up gift after gift and Hotch rubbed at the bridge of his nose where his glasses suddenly felt heavy and tried not to let on just how anxious all of that stuff made him feel. Knowing it would have to be in his home, exploding out of Jack's room. The boys finished and rushed around the room, hugging everyone before returning to their spoils and ripping into the boxes, comparing, relishing, delighting in the bright shiny new. Hotch’s head was starting to throb again, the heat and sound of the room was too much. The coffee wasn't helping as much as he'd hoped, but alcohol would have only made things worse. He began thinking about leaving, before it got bad enough that he didn’t think he should be driving Jack around on icy roads. This was the most time he’d spent off of his couch just about all month and he was feeling it now.

“Hotch?” Derek asked, touching his elbow from behind. He turned and took a few steps away from the crowd, getting close to where Derek was so he could hear him over the conversation and Bing Crosby crooning. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he replied a little too quietly. The room was spinning in a way that made him feel intoxicated, a side effect he often felt being a little too close to Derek. Smelling his cologne, sandalwood and spice, something deep and woodsy and warm. It momentarily distracted him from the pain in his head. “I hope my being out hasn’t been too much strain on you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Everyone pitched in.”

“Good,” he said, unable to pull the words he really wanted. He’d like to say thank you, say how much it meant to him knowing that Derek could step into his role and let him have time off when he needed it, he’d like to say a lot of things right then but his mind was a blank pulsing throb. He could feel every nerve ending in his body when Derek closed the distance between them and, with one lithe finger, pointed casually to the ceiling above them. Hotch let his eyes follow the line Derek’s finger drew, up up up to a plant hook with a big mangled bunch of leaves hanging from it. A fist sized ball of green and white, and suddenly his mouth was going dry.

Mistletoe.

Right above them. He was no expert on the rules, didn’t have a lot of experience in this arena, but he knew what you were supposed to do. Did that apply now? At an office party? Who did Penelope hang it for, anyway?

“Right.” He said it and regretted it immediately. He wasn’t even sure what he meant by it. Derek laughed and nodded in agreement for some reason. Maybe he understood. Maybe he just thought it was funny.

“Right.”

On bated breath, Derek hooked his hand on the back of Hotch’s neck like right was an invitation, and maybe it was. His warm palm rested against Hotch’s skin, rough finger pads pulling him close until their lips met. Gently at first, a little timid, just a brush and a pause, searching eyes and held breath before pressing harder. Hotch wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, whether he should fall into the kiss or wait it out. What he wanted and what he should do were battling it out in his mind until he found himself nipping helplessly at Derek’s lower lip, smiling into the kiss, into his rich wine breath, and then his hands were settling on Derek’s hips and squeezing. His thumbs were hooked in Derek’s belt loops, and he had become acutely aware that the noise and chatter in the room had died out, left with nothing but the skin tingling intoxication of Otis Redding singing White Christmas.

It was Hotch's favorite Christmas song, and he knew he was helpless to do anything more than enjoy this moment. Derek began to sway along with the music, one hand still hooking the back of Hotch’s neck, the other cradling his jaw. He traced Hotch’s jawline, to his lips and back with one thumb, fingers splayed over his face a little possessively. He broke the kiss, coming up for air only briefly, smiling against Hotch’s lips. “Been thinking about doing that for a really long time…”

Their foreheads touched and rested against one another, each of them coming to terms with this moment. The first time, the first kiss. A long-awaited, fat chance, when pigs fly kind of kiss that hardly seemed real. Hotch closed his eyes and breathed out. “Me too.”

“Think maybe we could give those date night dice a spin sometime?” Derek asked and Hotch felt a flush rise in his neck, his cheeks burning. He’d forgotten all about them, honestly. He’d sort of forgotten everything in the moment. He nodded, just a slight movement.

“Sure,” he said before he couldn’t think about words anymore and found himself going in for another kiss. Derek’s lips, cherry chapstick and wine, were intoxicating. “Merry Christmas Derek,” he whispered between breaths, between kisses that made him forget where he was and how many people were watching. Who was watching. How many rules they were violating.

And if that realization weren't damning enough, Hotch heard a small clicking sound followed by a quick blinding flash and a shout of joy. JJ had used her little Kodak disposable camera on them. She wound the film excitedly and began wandering around the room clicking photos as quickly as she could, distracting everyone momentarily.

“Merry Christmas Hotch,” Derek replied, anchoring him in place, blinking the flash from his eyes. Holding him there in the moment a while longer. He could feel it starting to slip away.

Everyone in the room was trying not to watch and failing miserably in their pursuit. JJ and Will were helping Henry clean up the mess of boxes and toys he’d created while Emily and Rossi argued over the names of Santa’s reindeer. Reid was frowning as he looked through a rather pornographic tarot card deck he found in one of Penelope’s kitchen drawers, simultaneously repulsed and intrigued.

Jack tapped on Penelope’s arm, pulling her attention from her kissing friends. She wasn’t even pretending not to watch. Quickly she crouched beside the little boy, never taking her eyes off of Derek and Hotch. “Yes hun?” she asked and Jack began whispering in her ear.

“I can tell you now,” he started with a huge grin, his lips tickling her ear as he cupped it with his little hands. Kid whispers were always a little wet and hot and she could feel a shiver at the base of her spine when he talked again. When he divulged his secret. “I asked Santa to give my dad something that would make him happy.”

“Oh,” she gasped, tears in her eyes. Of course he did. He would know that his dad would take care of any presents he wanted, and it was silly to think he hadn’t noticed how sad and lonely his dad was now that he lived with him full time. Surrounded by photographs of the life he’d lost. “Oh Jack. You did good. You did so good.”

“No...Santa did good. I only asked.”

Hotch hoped that little camera still had some life in it.

He'd like to see that photo.

[emcandon]

the ballad of fancy uncle chucklefuck pt. 6

(previously on fancy uncle chucklefuck: 1, 2, 3 (look at the reblog for the update), 4, 5)

a long one! so this time, a cut!

GUESS WHO HAD A BAD TIME THIS WEEK HAHAHAHAHA

my plans to have fancy uncle chucklefuck idly making breakfast for the recently re-traumatized (BY HIS GOD) party were thwarted bc he instead woke up to being physically threatened by another, different god

bc lol the party weren't the only ones his god had pissed off -- an old god of the land itself had come to menace this sad old dandy and make its complaints Known

old god was understandably pretty upset that yet another power was throwing its weight around in barovia -- and even worse, possibly making itself available to strahd?? you idiot!! you asshole!! what's wrong with you!!

sidebar: feral hagdaughter tried to wallop the old god MULTIPLE TIMES bc it was the sensible thing to do! something seem dangerous? whack it until it goes away! DUH.

anyway btwn the old god's ire + the rest of the party's comments about "worst night of our lives" and "truly fucked nightmare" and the like, fancy uncle chucklefuck started to piece together that his god had maybe FUCKED AROUND only to leave him to be the one to find out! come on!! ¯\_(ಠ_ಠ)_/¯

anyway he went from protesting that he didn't really know anything to, well, protesting that he didn't really know anything, but with more detail.

you know, like admitting this power is something he recognizes but could never have expected to wield bc he doesn't even go here. (in terms of both being not of the royal bloodline, also not even technically from the kingdom, so like ¯\_(ಠ_ಠ)_/¯ !!!)

but also in terms of how, well, the power doesn't look like he remembers it looking. he's used it to make light and to heal -- and he only ever saw it used for violence, or to change the course of a mind.

which, to be fair, it has very obviously been fucking around in everyone's brains so ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

tl;dr it's new, he doesn't like it, he's never seen the god -- or whatever it is -- do anything for anyone that wasn't directly harmful, and the only time it ever saw fit to talk to him! it gave him a migraine! so like! ¯\_(ಠ_ಠ)_/¯

but the worst part was arguably when the old god made some comment about how this god loves him.

uh oh

oh no

why

tangentially, uncle chucklefuck asked Seasonal Affective Disorder: the Warlock a thing he'd been meaning to ask her ever since she said something about how there are "different kinds of dead"

namely whether it's possible for the soul--the self--to be carved out of a body, only for the body to still be breathing

(which was probably the most intense rush of emotion i'd felt at the table thus far bc holy shit not the time he wanted to ask that, if he ever even actually wanted to)

turns out this question hit HER in a terrible and unexpected way, but tl;dr the horrible answer is "YUP"

anyway that was around the point the old god decided it was satisfied -- which it articulated by suggesting they all go walk into a lake so as to not bring any more problems down upon its people or its land. buh-bye!

to which the dragonborn herbo was like "actually that sounds great, byyyyeeeee" and promptly exited stage left

the dour divine bard and SAD: the Warlock went to go talk her through her stress/ongoing powerful aversion to God Shit

which was DARLING esp bc the dour divine bard proved far more emotionally deft and gentle than they had yet dared to be!

but THEN the dragonborn herbo was like "THAT. CHUCKLEFUCK. TOLD ME NOT TO BE VULNERABLE. AND THEN WENT AND EXPOSED HIS ENTIRE FUCKING RIBCAGE TO US." (see 3)

here pictured: me, offscreen, wailing with laughter

SAD: the Warlock's answer to this was along the lines of "to be fair, uncle chucklefuck's probably going through it, and i suspect that awful god is too -- but ALSO, if they touch our brains again, i will kill him :)"

which made the dragonborn herbo feel better so we're all good now! we're fine! we're great! it's chill!

meanwhile fancy uncle chucklefuck had offered to make food for the group before answering any questions they wanted answered and feral hagdaughter was Extremely Interested in breakfast.

which was the most sensible thing that happened all morning and made him finally confess she's his favorite.

while they tended to that, a very distressed farmer's wife politely asked the utena butch bard whether the party planned.....to stay....any longer..... and desperately pretended the farmhouse was SO haunted by the most OBNOXIOUS ghosts so they would probably be MUCH happier if they just CONTINUED ON DOWN THE ROAD...

breakfast ended up remarkably chill all things given. dragonborn herbo (NEEDLESSLY!!!) apologizing for her "outburst" and committing to sticking with the group -- and making clear she keeps her fucking promises.

followed by fancy uncle chucklefuck cautiously offering to part ways with the group bc lol! didn't expect to be contagious! sorry! haha! fuck!

tho he was also talked out of this by the double-punch salvo of 1) we've already caught the contagion and distance probably won't help, 2) strahd has already proved Interested in your god and none of us really want him to get it, so!

ultimately we hit the road again with fancy uncle chucklefuck having changed into the farmer's spare clothes bc 1) god he's tired of putting on fancy face, 2) when he runs out of money, the fancy clothes will also be good for bartering.

and we left off on debating how best to deal with hags who have the bones that we want, with the conclusion that we definitely should not bargain with them, probably could not kill them, and therefore ought to steal from them -- so uncle chucklefuck has a new mission! which is teaching these whippersnappers how to do CRIME.

relatedly, two of the party members who are decidedly not actually whippersnappers due to various circumstances (dour divine bard + SAD: the Warlock) had a sidebar where they were like "hey i maybe Get you in a weird way. anyway are you also feeling 'i just met this dragonborn herbo but if anything happened to her i would kill everyone in this room and then myself?' yes? awesome. good talk."

great and functional party with tremendously admirable coping mechanisms you got there. would be a shame if they were to trauma-bond or something.

[kfedup]

Mondaying

Ginger is struggling today. Typically on weekdays she gets to spend a few hours with Bowie at my ex's house. This weekend we put Bowie down. His cancer progressed very quickly over the last few weeks and it was past time. Chris found an incredible retired vet couple who came to the house and helped make it all so kind and normal. Ginger was there and got to sniff him before and after, but she also has limited object permanence and misses her time with her buddy. We all do, sweet girl. We all do.

I really struggled with it. I think I'm through the worst of it, but holy shit I was not expecting how this would bring up so many feelings about my marriage ending. Fuck off, it's been 9 years already. But I realized that I haven't actually cried much about it and hoo boy, this last week has been a real soaker. I once again need to thank Peter Gabriel for opening something in me that's been locked up for years with his amazing i/o concert.

A huge part of the struggle came from having to share the process with his wife and the energy of ownership she brought with her. I wonder if she struggled with my energy, too. I don't care enough to ask. I don't like her. I've never liked her. And earlier in the week we crossed paths and she complained about him to me in a way that seemed like she wanted me to commiserate with her. Over the man she... well... anyway, I'm ready to stop telling that story, so I'll start now and just say some people are too dumb for words.

I just got back from my bi-annual primary care well visit and my doctor and I both agree that I'm doing amazing, sweetie. Most of the long covid shit has finally begun to clear. I'm still having a hard time with cardio/heart rate issues and still getting week-long clusters of ocular migraines, but otherwise, I am better than ever. Coming up on 3 years of sobriety and nearly a year into daily exercise and meditation on top of the long-established dog walks. Sleeping better. Eating slightly less emotionally. Working to bring the meditation practice into the day outside of my sitting time; to walking, cooking, eating, working, listening, talking, or whatever the hell I'm doing in the process of living, is honestly geeking me the fuck out. Planning ahead to do a nice long silent meditation retreat next year.

That said, the wanting/craving for connection is constant. I keep seeing that meme that says something like don't awaken the love in a woman unless you intend to actually work to love her and goddamn. Trying so hard to not be a giant ball of resentment about it, but phew, it realllllly sucks to have someone make the play and then back off.

There's a spectacular golden hour happening right now. We just walked in it for a bit.

What's for dinner? I'm ravenous and I do not want to cook.

Happy Monday, mutuals.