#I feel better today having had a tylenol and hot chocolate

[skyward-floored]

I get better pictures this morning on my camera, but a fuzzy ipod picture isn’t bad. The fog is really neat here right now :)

[artemistorm]

Eyyy headache buddies! 🤝 I have no idea what you are doing so far for headaches but here is what I do for mine:

Be super gentle with yourself and baby yourself. Keep the lights off and blinds closed even if you think you can handle light. Don't put any extra stress on your body if at all possible. Don't do mental work like homework, don't do physical work like tidying the house.

Eat regular meals. Drink lots of liquids. Get tired of water? Have hot chocolate! Or juice. Or tea or coffee. Or soda. Drink way more than you think you need. Maybe you don't notice a difference today, but maybe it'll help you feel a lot better tomorrow.

Keep the windows closed and heat on, even at night. Try to keep your environment's atmosphere steady and unvariable as possible.

Sleep a lot. Take naps. Avoid interrupted sleep and waking to an alarm. Have someone in the house feed your pets breakfast in the morning so you don't have to get up too early.

Double up on painkillers using 2 different kinds. You can take extra strength Tylenol and Ibuprofen (with a snack so it's easier on your stomach). But BE CAREFUL. Don't Double up tylenol + tylenol or Aspirin + Ibuprofen or something. Research your options.

Very hot showers help for me and can lower/rid headache pain for up to 2 hours afterward.

Put mint essential oil or vicks vaporub on your forehead/temple. Works for me better than painkillers. But it's a short fix, for like 20 minutes, and then you have to wipe it off and reapply it.

If you've had a migraine for 2 weeks, consider going paleo, at least for a week or two. Strict paleo diets are used to treat other neurological conditions like epilepsy. There is evidence to suggest that migraines--also a neurological condition--can be relieved/prevented by paleo diets too.

Take allergy medicine + nasal rinse religiously for a few weeks. Sometimes my headaches are caused by sinus issues and when I take good care of those, the headaches go away and stay away.

My top tip is this: combo attacks! If I wake up with a headache, I will immediately drink a cup of water, take painkillers, and take a shower and that really helps reduce pain until the painkillers kick in and get me through getting ready for the day. Or put vicks vaporub on your forehead and then go lay down to take a nap. Or eat a meal and drink a ton of liquids and veg out in the dark listening to low-effort podcasts. When you combine as many things as you can, they add up and compound and work better together than separately.

Hope this helps.

I think my two week long headache is starting to get to me. Anyone have headache advice?

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Ok so I know Jason and the reader confessed their love in scruffy verse but after all that maybe he could ask her out on a nice date just with stuff they enjoyed when they were little

"I'm bored," Jason groused, sprawling across your bed.

"No shenanigans with the boys today?" you ask mildly, not looking up from your book.

"Yours are more fun," he pouted, picking up his battered teddy bear to fidget with. It was supposed to be a break from school. But Gotham being Gotham and Bruce being Bruce he'd hardly seen you. You were up with the chickens, sometimes even before Alfred and out cold asleep long before he got home from patrol.

He hated it. Even if he understood. But- that didn't mean he didn't worry. You were getting a cough now that the cold weather was setting in. And he knew you were tired. Years of malnutrition and medical neglect meant you'd probably never be very physically healthy. At least not without constantly being on top of eating well and sleeping enough... which you also didn't do.

"Jay I've got so much to do-"

"C'mon," he pleaded, giving you his biggest, saddest pound puppy eyes. "We can go skating? Or go see a movie?"

When you relent a little and close your book, Jason takes it gingerly and sets it aside, putting Scruffy in your lap where it had been. "Or I can make some hot chocolate and we can just cuddle for a while," he tries. Skating would be nice, but being out in the cold would probably make your cough worse. And a movie would be good but only if you could unwind enough to watch it and enjoy it.

"A nap sounds nice," you say after a long moment, turning your head to cough.

And Jason nods, smiling a little, "You really feel like shit, huh?"

"I'm just tired-"

"Yeah. And Joker just gave me a love tap," he said, frowning as he leaned forward to touch your forehead.

"Jason Peter."

But despite your protests, you lean into the touch and Jason shakes his head, "Nap it is," he decides for you. "Can you stay awake long enough for me to find some sweats?"

"Probably," you mumble, "Maybe."

And Jason doesn't need telling twice.

When he returns with his sweats, a glass of water, and some Tylenol, you look at him in askance.

"You're getting a fever," he explained, handing them to you. His suspicions are confirmed when you don't argue. "My poor baby," he hummed, taking the glass from you.

"I'll be fine. It's just sinus crud."

"Still," he said, settling you in his arms, satisfied when you snuggle closer. "You'll feel better with a nap and a good meal in you- if you feel up to it, we'll go get dinner. See if that one Barbeque place of 64th is still there."

"They have the best banana pudding."

"Remember that one waitress? Taffy? Did we ever figure out if that was her legal name?"

"She still works there, I think. Or at least she did when I went there for your birthday before-"

Jason kissed the top of your head and slid a hand up to rub the nape of your neck, just below your hairline, "You celebrated my birthday?"

"Every year," you murmur. "And I left you a notebook."

He stopped for a second, not sure what to say and kissed your head again, making a mental note to ask if Bruce had picked them up. For years, you'd passed notebooks back and forth. In the hall between classes, during classes while you sat next to each other. It was a running conversation. And somehow, without trying, you'd broken his heart in the sweetest way.

The whole time he'd been dead, he assumed life went on. Even for you. But it hadn't even as it had. You'd kept a space for him. And he hoped Bruce kept those fucking notebooks. He wanted to know about all the conversations you'd had without him.

[mysticalrambling]

Adorable Addition(Part 2)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fan Fiction Masterlist)

(Part 1)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad!Chris Evans x reader. Chris and you decide to adopt a dog when you see your son with Scott's dog. It is a cute family day and you all enjoy it to the fullest.

._._._._._.

“Can you please take out Dodger for his morning walk? I will handle the children.” Coming up behind your husband, you started to gently massage his shoulders.

“Are you sure you can handle both of them?” He moaned when you starting to untangle all the tight knots in his back.

“Yes, I am. Just let me distract Oliver first because he will throw a fit if you did not take him with.” Your elder son has been more than clingy towards Chris from the moment the baby has arrived. Getting jealous of even you when you kiss or cuddle with your husband. He is the only one allowed to be with his daddy and now he won’t even let Chris pet Dodger. It was adorable at first but now it is slowly becoming a nuisance.

“If you don’t mind, I will take Ollie with me to the park because we haven’t spent much time together.” Laughing at your husband’s puppy dog eyes, you are reminded that he was just as obsessed with his little prince as well. You wanted to remind him that from the moment he has come back from his set in Los Angeles, he has spent most of his time with Oliver.

“I don’t mind and I will get him ready.” The new found habit that your son had developed was to wear something related to Captain America, whether it is a shirt or a hat. Today, he decided upon Captain America sneakers and you did not even have the energy to lecture him about his stubbornness.

“Ready to go, bubba?” Holding an overjoyed dog with his leash, Chris extended his hands towards his firstborn.

"Can we get ice cream on the way?"

"Yes, you can." "No." You both spoke out at the same time and then turned to stare at each other. Sometimes, your husband acted like a three and a half year old child instead of your actual son. He knew that Ollie always gets stomach ache after eating sweets and he still fulfills all his wishes.

"Chris, you know what happens afterwards." It was like trying to reason with a wall when he passed you one of his cheeky smile.

The moment you were about to argue with him, you heard a cry from the baby monitor, signaling your little princess was up. Emma was truly a blessing in disguise because she was a very calm baby as compared to your son. It was such a smooth pregnancy that you both were sometimes worried that something might have been wrong with the baby. From the moment she was born, your world changed a lot but in a good way. She hardly cried and the best thing about her was that she was really attached to you.

"Looks like our princess is up. You better go to her because she won't come to me quietly." Jealousy flashed through Chris's blue eyes because he always thought that your daughter would be a daddy's girl from the very start. But boy, was he wrong. He found that out from day one when she did not stop crying until she was back in your arms.

"Don't be jealous, baby. Now go to the park and remember no ice cream."

"Of course, darling." He quickly strapped Oliver in to his stroller and pulled the shades down. Chris was still not okay with the paparazzi taking his family's pictures and he did everything to avoid that. The moment they stepped out of the house, you ran towards your baby's nursery room. She was fussing now and you knew she wanted to be fed so you got to the task.

"Daddy, why didn't we take baby sister with us?" questioning Chris through the shield, he played with his Captain America teddy bear.

"She is too young right now to play with you but Dodger and I are here so you will have a lot fun."

"Daddy, pick me up, please."

"No, bubba. You just play with your toys till we arrive to the park."

"Please, Daddy. Now! Now!" He started to repeat the words over and over again. Chris tried to quiet him down by giving him his pacifier and more toys but nothing seemed to work.

"Be quiet, Oliver." Chris ran out of patience and snapped at his son. However, regret and guilt washed over him soon afterwards when he saw Oliver's chin wobble and tears pooling in his eyes. The little boy knew that when his dad called him by name then he was really mad.

"Sorry," whispering slowly from the stroller, he started to play with his stuffed toy.

"I am sorry, baby." Quickly putting together the baby sling on his upper body, he slid Oliver in to it and used both his arms to hold on to the stroller and the leash. "Happy, little guy?"

"Yes!" Oliver laid his head on his father's chest and gently sucked on his teddy bear pacifier. Chris ignored the paparazzi that was trailing behind them because his son was his top most priority right now.

The moment they arrived at the park, Oliver tried to wiggle out of the carrier and Chris quickly undid the straps. Dodger and Oliver have been inseparable from the moment they met each other. The kid got jealous when his Dodgie started to pay attention to the new born baby. He did not want to share Chris's or Dodger's attention with anyone and that is the reason why he took so long to get accustomed to his baby sister.

"Enjoy, baby." Chris made sure that Oliver did not leave his sight and did not mingle with any strangers. He made it clear to his fans that he wanted some privacy with his family. This was a private moment and his fans respected that. Chris was truly glad to have a following that were not toxic. "Let's go get some ice cream now."

He called out after he saw that his son was all sweaty and worked up after all the chasing around and playing on the swings. Your son immediately dropped the frisbee and skipped over to you with Dodger hot on his tail. Getting a chocolate ice cream, he wanted to be picked by his father again. Chris knew that his shirt would get dirty but his family was worth it.

“Honey, we are home.” Tiny pitter patter outside your room alerted you of your son running towards your room. Chris followed suit with a stained shirt. You just shook your head at him and mentally checked if there was still some Tylenol in your medicine cabinet.

As soon as he came out of the closet with a new shirt on, he plopped on the side of your now awake daughter. She was dressed in a baby pink polka dot dress with a matching headband and a pink pacifier. Making grabby hands towards Chris, she gave him a smile that showcased her two new front teeth. He was over the moon and immediately cuddled with his babygirl.

“I am going downstairs to make some dinner. Ollie, you want to help?” This was your bonding time with your baby boy where he tells you about his day and all of his feelings regarding the events. He told you all about his day today and how he made Chris mad. You gently explained to him that stubbornness was not a good trait and parents sometimes get angry. But that doesn’t mean that you guys hated him. “Dinner is ready, Chris. Come downstairs.”

“I want to sit with daddy too.” Both the kids were perched on his lap as you fed them both dinner. Chris stole a few bites in between and you laughed when Emma smudged her dirty hands on Oliver’s cheeks. Dodger sauntered in the dining room and went straight towards his eating bowl. This was your family and you cherished every moment you spent with them. The adorable additions to the family have been a blessing and you plan on cherishing them forever.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._._._.

A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it.

P.S. Thank you for motivating me to write a part 2. Tell me if you want another one.

Like, comment and reblog.

Taglist: @maximeevansblog, @justile

._._._._._._.

[spencessmile]

Migraine

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader 

Summary - You have a migraine & Spencer wants nothing more than to help you feel better. 

Warnings  - None

Word Count - 1,761 words 

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent. 

Feedback and Comments are always welcome. Happy reading! 

Requests are open!

**  

"Babe, are you okay?" You looked at Spencer grabbing your second coffee of the day from the small kitchenette. "You look a little pale." 

You leaned against the counter, taking in the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. "Spence," You put a hand on his arm. "I'm fine." You assured him.

"Morning lovebirds," Morgan called as he walked into the bullpen with his arm around Garcia. Just a few months ago you told you the team that you and Spencer were seeing each other and Derek made it his second job to tease you and Spencer about it. You never bothered you in fact you found it weirdly cute.

"Please tell me there is more coffee because I have donuts!" Emily said, walking in holding two boxes of donuts. 

"Oh!" Spencer cheered, you slightly winced at his voice. "Did you happen to get any-?" 

"Chocolate frosted with sprinkles? How could I forget your favourite?" Emily said, putting the boxes down as everyone dove in the boxes. 

"Good morning!" JJ cheered, holding her go-to bag and her mug of coffee. "Oh, donuts!" She said rushing over. 

"Pretty girl?" Morgan said. "Don't you want any? This sweet honey glazed donut is yelling your name," He motioned towards the box. 

"Nah," You shook your head. "I'm okay." 

"Since when do you refuse donuts? You love donuts," Morgan was right, you had a major sweet tooth and donuts were always your thing. You considered donuts to be your comfort food.

"I know," You said. "For today I'll stick to this protein bar," You said, walking to your desk. You sat down and started on the stack of paperwork. 

Three more cups of coffees and hours later, you felt your head starting to pound, the bright fluorescent lights above you weren't helping at all. You put your head in your hands and closed your eyes. 

You were so tired last night that you and Spencer got into bed as soon as you stepped foot into the apartment but the only problem was while Spencer slept peacefully you couldn't get in a blink of sleep. You kept twisting and turning, sometimes feeling too hot or too cold. 

Now you found yourself rubbing your temples trying to soothe the pain. To the right of you JJ, Emily, Garcia, Morgan, and Spencer were all loudly arguing about the Bermuda triangle. You tried to shut out their voices but every second you tried the louder their voices got louder. 

You couldn't take it anymore so you snapped. "Can you all please shut up, please?!”

The team looked over at you, all of them in shock because you were known to be a very quiet and reserved person, you never raised your voice. 

"Woah," Morgan said. "You could have just asked politely, pretty girl," Morgan laughs. "Someone’s a little snappy this morning," Morgan was referring to something you may have said earlier that came out in the wrong tone of voice. 

You push your chair out slightly and straighten your legs, you put your forehead down on the table, the cold table feeling good. 

You felt someone crouch down beside you but kept your eyes shut. 

"Your not okay, are you?" You heard Spencer say softly. You didn't say anything, your hands were wrapped around your head blocking out the lights and it felt amazing. "I'm going to tell Hotch that we're heading home for the day," You lifted your head to stop Spencer but as soon as the lights were beaming down on you, you winced in pain.

"No," You say. "I'm fine. It's just a small headache." 

Spencer grabbed your hands. "It's not a headache. Y/n, you're having a migraine," You didn't want to admit it but Spencer was right you were having a migraine and it was bad. "How many times have I told you to tell me when you're having migraines?" He asked. "Y/N, migraines aren't a small thing. I know exactly how they feel." 

All your life people always thought you were overacting when you told them how bad your migraines were until you met Spencer and found out he also had them. You were sort of relieved in a way knowing you weren’t alone. You two always took care of each other. 

"I didn't want you to worry." 

"Well, I am worried now because you look like you're in so much pain and I don't like seeing you in pain, you know that." 

"I know," You responded. "I'm sorry." 

"Give me two minutes and I'm gonna go and speak with Hotch." 

"But I have all this paperwork to finish," You motioned to the stack of paperwork on your desk. 

"The paperwork is always going to be there. I'll be right back," With that Spencer left for Hotch's office. 

You stood up and walked towards the group. "I'm sorry for snapping at you guys, I didn't mean to."

"It's alright pretty girl," Morgan assured you.

"Are you not feeling well?" JJ asked. 

"I've never told anybody but Spence this," You breathe. "But ever since I was 10 years old I get really bad migraines. It takes me days to fully recover from them. Today is the first one I've had in months and it's starting to take the best of me." 

"Oh," Garcia said, "You poor thing. We're so sorry for being loud," Garcia hugged you. 

"It's not your fault. You didn't know," You said. 

"Well, some people don't know how to use their indoor voices," Garcia smacked Morgan's shoulder. 

"Ouch baby girl, that was uncalled for." 

"Your loud-ass voice, hurt our baby angel's head," Garcia said. 

Baby angel was a nickname Garcia had for you from the day you started working alongside this team. You don't remember where it came from but you liked it, a lot. 

"I wasn't the only one talking loudly," Morgan argued. 

"Chocolate thunder, we were using our indoor loud voices. You were using your outdoor loud voice." She explains. 

"Alright," Spencer said, walking towards you. "Let's go home," Spencer grabbed the files off of your desk and his and shoved them into his satchel. 

"Okay." 

"I need everyone in the round table in two minutes. We have a case," You turn around hearing Hotch's voice. 

Before you could say anything Spencer moved in front of you. 

"Wrong way beautiful,”  He said, putting his Stachel on. 

"Spence," You said. "We have a case,” You said pointing to Hotch. 

"No," He said. "The team has a case," Everyone laughs at your reaction. "You and I are going home." 

"But I wan-"

"Nope," Spencer shook his head, taking your hand in his and dragging you before you could continue to protest. 

"I just want everyone to know that I'm being taken against my will." You yelled across the room and everyone laughed. "Please be safe! Love you guys." You say as Spencer guides you towards the elevator.  

You squinted at the lights in the elevator. 

"Baby, wear your sunglasses," Spencer said, kissing your hand. 

"It was the worst day to forget them." 

"I always tell you to keep your sunglasses on you Y/N," Spencer said, digging into his satchel and handing you his spare pair. 

"You said you only keep one pair of sunglasses?" You said as you put on his sunglasses. 

"I always keep an extra pair in here for you." 

"You’re the sweetest baby," You said kissing his cheek. 

The car ride was silent because you fell asleep the second you leaned back in your seat. Spencer drove in silence, occasionally looking at you, frowning wondering how much pain you've must have been in the last couple of hours and he didn't know. 

"Y/N," Spencer opened your door and unbuckled your seat belt. 

You groaned in response. "Baby come on, we're home," You mumbled something but Spencer couldn't tell what you said so he wrapped your bag around his shoulder, picked up you in bride style, and closed the car door with his foot. 

When he finally reached the apartment he fiddled with his key, jamming into the lock and getting the door open. He shut it quickly with his foot and headed straight for the bedroom. He gently placed you down, draping the blanket over you. 

He dropped his satchel and your bag to the floor and walked to the kitchen to get you some Tylenol and water. When he walked back in the room he noticed that you were awake. 

"When did we get home?" You asked, rubbing your head. 

"I tried to wake up but you completely ignored me and continued sleeping," You chuckled as Spencer handed you the pill and the glass of water. 

"Well, I'm sorry you felt ignored." You washed the pill down with water. 

"I didn't feel ignored. I was glad you got some shut-eye." You put the glass down. "You didn't sleep last night, did you?" 

"I was so tired but no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't sleep." 

"You should have woken me up." Spencer rubbed your thigh, in a comforting way. 

"\You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you up," Spencer shook his head at you. 

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you something to eat? Maybe some che-" 

"I just want you to hold me," You answered, simply.

"You should eat something before you sleep." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"Ba-" 

"Spence please I'm not hungry. Just hold me," You said. 

"Okay," Spencer climbed onto his side of the bed, and you laid your head in his lap, as Spencer pulled the blanket, wrapping it around his legs and you. 

"You're the comfiest pillow ever," You mumbled as you felt your eyes starting to get heavy. 

"I'm glad I bring you comfort," Spencer smiled down at you, running his hand through your hair. 

"Oh my god," You groaned. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned. 

"Your fingers are a god-given gift," You said. "Continue, please." 

"So I've been told," Spencer spoke, causing your cheeks to blush as you pushed the blanket further up to your face. "I love you,” He laughed, kissing your temple. 

"I love you too." You mumbled. 

** 

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit - Khalil Gibran

[flowerfan2]

Part of You Indefinitely - Ch. 8

It’s almost over - after this, Ch. 9 is the epilogue.  Thanks all for reading and reblogging.  I hope my readers new to Schitt’s Creek have enjoyed this!

Read from the beginning on A03; or go to Chapter 8.  M, 24k.

Summary – An accident sends Patrick to the hospital and terrifies David.  What follows changes their relationship in ways David and Patrick never imagined.  A story of love and its challenges.

Chapter 8

David’s head is pounding when his alarm goes off.  He swats it and turns over, curling up under the blankets.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he feels someone gripping his arm.  “Leave me alone, I’m sleeping.”

“David?  It’s almost eight, you overslept.”

David scrunches his eyes closed.  He flinches from the touch of Patrick’s hand on his forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up.”  Patrick’s hand is cool, almost painful on his skin as he rests the back of his hand on David’s cheek, and then it’s gone.  David presses his face into the pillow and drifts off.

The next thing he knows is Patrick shaking him again.  “I know you don’t feel good, honey,” Patrick says, his voice soft.  “But sit up just for a sec, and take some medicine.  Come on.”

David squints one eye open and sees Patrick in his chair, next to the bed.  There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, and Patrick has two Tylenol in his hand.  David shoves himself up against the pillows and takes the pills, his hand trembling as he brings the glass of water to his mouth.

“Drink all of it,” Patrick says, and David grimaces.  His throat is on fire and the water isn’t helping.  He drains as much as he can stand from the glass, Patrick taking it from his hand when it is clear that David is done.

David sinks back against the pillows and closes his eyes.  He falls asleep to the reassuring sensation of Patrick stroking his shoulder.

He dreams about hiking, but instead of climbing a rather tame Canadian hill, they’re in the desert, David and Patrick and far too many cactuses – cacti?  There’s a long road winding in the distance, but they’ve got a ways to go to reach it, and their path is filled with sand and rocks and darting small versions of wildlife that seem to morph between lizards and furry things that might be weasels.  Patrick scolds David for not wearing mountaineering shoes, and tells him to take off his sweater because it’s making him overheat.  Suddenly there’s a cliff, and Patrick is standing close to the edge, pointing out the view, and then he’s gone, disappearing over it without a word.

“David,” a voice calls, and David jolts awake, eyes flashing open to see Patrick’s worried face.  

“You shouldn’t stand near the edge,” David says, grabbing Patrick’s arm.

“Um, okay, I won’t,” Patrick says.  

David blinks, looking around at their bedroom, his eyes landing on the dresser from Patrick’s old apartment, the wardrobe half open with all his knitwear stored carefully inside, the wooden chest at the foot of the bed.  “I was dreaming,” David says, and he tries to take in a deep breath, but his throat hurts too much.

“I got that,” says Patrick.  “Here, drink this.”

David shakes his head.  “It hurts.”

“This won’t.”  Patrick tilts the glass towards him, a straw sticking up towards his mouth.  

David takes a sip and practically moans in relief.  “What is that?”

“Chocolate Nutella milkshake.  Twyla brought us some supplies.”

“She didn’t make it herself,” David says.  It’s not even a question – Twyla’s concoctions are universally terrible.

“No, she did not.”  Patrick leaves the milkshake in David’s hand and points their thermometer at David’s forehead.  “Hold still for a second.”

David lets Patrick take his temperature, not really paying much attention.  When he’s done, Patrick tilts the milkshake straw in David’s direction.  He drinks a little more, then shakes his head to try to clear it.  “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.  Time for you to take another dose.  We’ll alternate until your fever comes down.”  Patrick shakes a few Advil out of the bottle on the nightstand, but David is still confused.

“But it’s Monday.  You have PT.  We have to go.”  David pushes the blankets down and tries to get out of bed, but Patrick stops him with a hand to his shoulder.  David feels so weak he can hardly fight back.

“We’re not going.  Lie down,” Patrick says firmly.

“No, it’s okay,” David says.  “Let me get up and get dressed, I’ll be fine.”

“Nope,” says Patrick, and reaches over to tuck David back in.  “I can skip a day, I already called and told them.  Go back to sleep.  If you’re good, I’ll make you another milkshake for dinner.”

David sighs.  His bed does feel wonderful, and his arms and legs feel far too heavy to get out of it.  But Patrick needs him, he needs to be taken care of.  David can’t just stay in bed all day.

“That’s very sweet, honey, but I can take care of both of us today.”

“Didn’t say that out loud,” David mumbles.

“You did, and that’s okay.  You’ll feel better soon, when your temperature comes down.  Close your eyes.”

Patrick is rubbing circles on David’s back, and David is powerless to resist as sleep overtakes him once more.

It’s another twenty-four hours before David feels like himself again.  He wakes up to Patrick pressing his lips to his forehead and smiling.

“Do I pass the kiss test?”  David asks, smiling back.  He swallows tentatively – even his throat feels better.  He clearly wasn’t as sick as it seemed.

“Yup, you pass,” Patrick says, pulling David into his arms.  “You’re back to your regular levels of hot.”

David squirms and runs a hand through his rather disgusting hair.  “Say that again after I’ve taken a shower.”

“Deal.”  Patrick presses a kiss to David’s lips, and David opens easily to him.  Sadly, Patrick breaks it off all too soon.  

David covers his mouth with his hand.  “Sorry, I must taste awful.”

Patrick laughs.  “You’re not exactly minty fresh, but, um, since you’re not on your deathbed anymore, I kind of have plans.”

David stares at his husband.  “You what?  What kind of plans?”  He realizes that Patrick is fully dressed, and apparently got back in bed just to wake David up with a kiss, like some fairy tale prince.  

“Stevie’s taking me out to lunch,” Patrick says quickly.  He’s looking away from David, but he’s still got his hand on David’s shoulder, worrying his thumb against his skin.  

David may have been stuck in bed with a fever, but he hasn’t forgotten how to read his husband, and while Patrick is obviously feeling awkward about whatever this is, it is clearly important to him, too.  They haven’t been out to eat since Patrick’s accident, and Patrick hasn’t been in the car with anyone other than David.

“That’s great,” he says slowly, choosing to focus on the most critical part of this piece of news – Patrick agreeing to go out in public, despite his embarrassment.  “Where are you going?”

Patrick blinks at him, and then adjusts.  It’s what they do.  “The Thai place in Elm Valley.  With the good satays.”

“Bring me home some masaman curry?”

“Sure.”  Patrick gracelessly rolls to his back and lets out a long breath.  “I was afraid you’d be mad,” he says to the ceiling.  “But Stevie offered to take me to PT tomorrow, if you weren’t well enough, and then since you were feeling better last night I told her she didn’t have to, and she said she had been looking forward to getting together, and I’ve missed her too, so she asked me to have lunch, and I – I just said yes.”

“That sounds nice.”  David rolls to his side and puts their joined hands on Patrick’s chest.

“Maybe. But…” Patrick turns his head and catches David’s gaze.  “I haven’t, since-”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to go to the café.”

It makes sense.  Everyone at Café Tropicale knows him, and would want to have a chat, and ask too many questions.  “The Thai place is neutral territory,” David says.  David and Patrick love it, the wait staff are friendly but not nosy, and he doesn’t think they’ve ever run into anyone from Schitt’s Creek there.  It’s a good choice for Patrick’s first foray out in the world.  David wishes he had thought of it.

“Yeah.  And I called, it’s accessible.”

David feels a little pang, and thinks of Stevie trying to get Patrick’s chair over a too high threshold, or god forbid up a stair.  They’ve put a few rubber threshold ramps in their own doorways to make it easier for Patrick – it’s ridiculous how hard it is to get around in a wheelchair.  “Good thinking.”

They lie there for another minute, and David can feel how uncomfortable it is.  He doesn’t quite know why, and he’s searching for something to say to lighten the mood, when Patrick speaks up.

“Do you, um, do you want to come?”

David instantly knows his answer has to be no.  It’s hard to say, when it means Patrick will be out there away from him.  There will be someone else helping Patrick in and out of the car, making sure his feet don’t catch and trip him up.  Someone else responsible for his safety, for making sure he doesn’t freak out, for protecting him from prying eyes.

But David has to say no because by agreeing to go out to lunch with Stevie, <i> without</i> David, Patrick hasn’t just decided to risk that Stevie won’t let him down.  Patrick has decided to trust himself, and David needs to trust him, too.

David pushes up on an elbow and waits until Patrick looks at him, and then he smiles and ducks down for a kiss.  “Nah.  You go.  I’ll be here when you get home.”

The look on Patrick’s face is like the sunrise.  “Yeah?”

David wraps his arms around his husband.  “Yeah.  You’ll do just fine.”  

Patrick hangs on tight, and David presses his hands to his back, hugging him for all he’s worth.  They’re strong, the both of them, and they’re going to be okay.

*****

A few days later when they get to the hospital Patrick tells David to park in the lot instead of dropping him off at the front door.

“Everything okay?”  David asks.

Patrick nods.  “Yeah, but, um, I want you to come to PT with me.”

They take the elevator to the second floor (it’s not a very big hospital – David thinks the whole thing could fit in one wing of Sloan-Kettering) and Patrick leads him down the hall to the physical therapy department.  When his name is called, they go into a large room and are met by a tall man with a ponytail and an impressive set of muscles.

“Is this your PT guy?”  David asks under his breath.  “He looks like he could hurt me.”

The ponytail guy is in fact Patrick’s physical therapist, Luis, and he introduces himself and then he and Patrick get to work.  David sits in a chair at the side of the room and watches.  He’s impressed at how hard Patrick is working.

“David?”  Luis beckons him over to where Patrick is sitting on a padded table.

“Yes?” David stands awkwardly next to Patrick, not sure what his role is in this situation.

“This is the part I wanted you to be here for,” Patrick says.

David looks at him quizzically.

“I asked Luis to give me some exercises to work on at home.”

Luis clears his throat, and Patrick frowns.  “I asked him to give me some <i>more</i> exercises to work on at home, since I haven’t been making progress as quickly as I would like to.  And there are some things you can help me with.  So I can learn how to walk again.  If you’re willing.”

“Of course,” David says quickly.  He looks from Patrick to Luis, who has a rather doubtful look on his face.  “Of course I’ll help, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, I… I wanted to do this by myself.  I didn’t want you to have something else to worry about.  But I realized that by not letting you help, I was just hurting us anyway.”

It sounds like a rehearsed speech, and David doesn’t miss Luis nodding his approval.

“Is there something else going on here?  And honestly, I haven’t seen you do any exercises at home.”

“I don’t do them when you’re home.”

“But I’m almost always home,” David says.  “Oh.  Oh.  That’s the problem, isn’t it?  You didn’t want to do your exercises with me there, and I’m usually there, so…”

“So I don’t do it.” Patrick says.  “But I’m not going to pull that crap any more.  I’m way behind-”

“There’s not really a timetable,” Luis tries to interject.

“There is, there is definitely a timetable, it’s far past time for me to get out of this goddamn chair,” Patrick insists.  “I’m going to put the work in every day from now on.”

“We’ll put the work in every day,” David says, ignoring how ridiculously sappy he sounds.

“Yeah, okay,” Patrick says, blushing.  “Yeah.”

That night at home David pulls out the yoga mat that Patrick has kept shoved under their bed and spreads it out in the middle of the living room floor next to their reclaimed oak coffee table.  

“David – you don’t have to do that.  It looks dumb there.”

David isn’t going to argue that the bright blue synthetic mat doesn’t exactly fit the carefully curated cream and crimson tones of their living room, but that’s hardly the point right now.  “It’s too cramped in the bedroom.  You said you wanted to take this seriously, so we’re taking it seriously.”

It turns out Patrick has a spreadsheet of all the exercises he was supposed to be doing.  David sits himself down on the floor next to Patrick and coaches him through his stretches, using his phone to time him, and occasionally adjusting his position.

“Nice.  That last one was even better.  Concentrate on engaging your core.”

Patrick pauses, sweaty and panting, and looks curiously at David.

“Something on your mind?”  David asks.

“How are you so good at this?”

David raises his eyebrows.  “If you must know… Alexis wanted to make the cheer team when she was in junior high, but she was a disaster.  Mom hired a trainer for her, but he just wanted to get high with our driver.  So I worked up a plan, and made sure Alexis practiced.”

“Did she make the team?”

David laughs.  “No way, have you seen her dance?  But she could do a mean split and broke a seven-minute mile.”

Patrick sits up with a grunt and leans his head on David’s shoulder.  “I should have let you help me from the beginning.”

“You said it, not me.”

It’s a pretty good day, all things considered.  But David’s favorite part is the last set of exercises they do.

Patrick sits in a chair, and with David’s help, pulls himself up to a standing position.  It’s very similar to how David has been helping him transfer in and out of his wheelchair, but this time Patrick lets himself rest more weight on his legs, pausing and holding himself in position there instead of just pivoting to the next step in the process.

Both of them are somewhat surprised to realize that Patrick can almost support himself.  He’s come a long way even if he hasn’t been doing his exercises as much as he was supposed to.  He stands carefully, finding his balance, with his arms looped tightly around the back of David’s neck, their bodies pressed close together.

“Now you’re supposed to lean from side to side,” David says, locking his grip firmly around Patrick’s back.  Patrick tries it, and his knee buckles, but David holds him tight.  “Go on, try again.”  

Patrick sucks in a breath, and then shifts his weight to one side and then the other.  It’s like dancing, almost, but better.  Patrick’s biting his lip in concentration as he works, and when he finishes the count of ten back and forths, he looks up at David, beaming.

“I did it,” he says softly, and David grins back at him.

“Yeah, you did.”  David leans in and kisses him, but keeps it quick – Patrick’s beginning to tremble and it wouldn’t really do to end the day with him collapsing to the floor.

Patrick falls asleep that night almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, but not before they kiss again, sweet and soft.  “You’re the best, you know that?”

David pulls him close.  “So I’ve been told.”

[dontshootmespence]

The Most Natural Thing In The World

Part 7

Summary: An experienced Dom and a virgin meet in a bar. Can he introduce her to a world she’s always imagined but never known before? Is it everything she wanted?

Words: 1,770

Warnings: Lots of lots of edging and teasing and then some serious spanking, leading to the reader experiencing subdrop.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fills my subdrop square.

The first five hurt more than anything that ever hurt before, but you revel in it so you ask for another five. Five more strikes with the cane, but as nine strikes your skin the pain is overwhelming. “Red!”

Spencer drops the cane to the floor and crouches at your side, cradling your face in his hands. “Are you okay?” Before his eyes had been filled with confidence, determination, arousal, but now they’re filled with fear. Fear that he’d gone to far and truly hurt you. The truth is that you took a few extra hits to impress him. You failed as a submissive.

“I’m okay. Just…that last one put me over the top.”

He kisses you and stands up to grab you carefully, placing you down on the bed before grabbing some lotion. When you move, you wince, the pain truly showing itself. You should not have let it go that far.

Determined, Spencer glides back and forth across the room, looking for everything he’ll need to take care of your very sore bottom. There’s the pain of an initial strike and then the pain that blooms after nerve endings that were compressed before return to normal. It’s white hot. And while it was enjoyable for the first five, you’d overestimated your tolerance on the last five.

You feel Spencer sit on the mattress, your body dipping toward his. He carefully applies an antibiotic cream to areas on both cheeks that you assume are slight cuts or abrasions. When he lays an ice pack across your ass, you hiss at the sting, but after a few seconds it eases, feeling so much better. Spencer lies down beside you and grazes his hand through your hair. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Did you do that on purpose? Take more than you thought you could?”

Ashamedly, you nodded. “The first five were great and I underestimated what the next five would do. I thought I could take it. And I wanted to. But I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I should’ve realized what you were doing and –“

“It’s on me, too, Spence. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Okay, only five at a time from now on.”

You sidle up against him, arm around his waist and head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he tells you how to care for your bottom over the next few days. “You have to ice on and off over the course of the next 24 to 48 hours. Fifteen minutes at a time. Okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” you say sleepily, mind numb and loopy and happy, free of anything but the sound of his voice and the beat of his heart. “And Tylenol for pain, no ibuprofen because that can prolong bleeding.”

“Good girl.” He floats his hand across the small of your back as he continues. “You’ve heard of subdrop right?”

“The concept yes, but I’m not sure of what it is exactly.”

Cradling your face, he ensures he has your attention as he describes what it is and how it can manifest. “It doesn’t always happen. You may never experience it, but I want you to know what it is just in case it does happen.” Apparently, subdrop involves your body releasing all sorts of endorphins and enkephalins. They make you feel like your pain tolerance is higher and can have an almost morphine-like effect on you. “The thing is that all that happy endorphins come out all at once during a scene like that and typically they trickle out over the course of a day with little bursts during exercise or something like that. You can only replace those endorphins at a normal rate, so that in between time can feel like a drug withdrawal without the drugs.”

“Oh, wow,” you reply, stunned. You smile into his chest while he continues info-dumping about the side effects – tired, feelings of loneliness and insecurity, mental exhaustion, possible tremors, bruising. “So I shouldn’t sit a lot tomorrow if I can help it?”

“Yea, you’ll feel that tomorrow, not like a normal spanking, and that pain will exhaust you over time because your body spent all those happy hormones and can’t replace them fast enough. The worst symptoms are the emotional ones though,” he says, gathering you into his arms and lifting you onto him so your skin is flush with his. “That lack of hormones can make you feel abandoned or depressed or unloved. And I never want you to feel that way, so if something happens, please text me or call me and as soon as I can reply, I will, and I’ll help you through it. It can hit you like a ton of bricks during the most innocuous tasks, so just really keep aware of how you’re feeling.”

It sounds like a lot – though it’s a possibility, not a given. Even so, the possibility is worth it for the intense pleasure you experience at his hands. “I love you, Spence.”

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he says softly. “I think I might pass out.”

“Me too.” You fall asleep in seconds, a satisfied smile across your face.

                                                            ----

Spencer has to leave for work the next day and at first it’s no big deal. You go about your day just as you normally would when it hits you – that bone deep feeling of insecurity. Why would he want to stay with you when he couldn’t do all the things he wanted to do with you? Were you being selfish for staying with him? Not allowing him to find someone that fit with him perfectly? Your heart begins to race, thumping so hard against your ribcage that you’re afraid it might burst it.

Swallowing hard, you grasp your specialty coffee from the barista – a peppermint mocha – but the sweet taste you wanted is now bitter. You’ve heard of people saying they can “taste” certain emotions because they’re so powerful, but before this moment you hadn’t understood what that meant. But now you know. This is fear.

                                                           ----

You attempt a walk in the park to calm yourself down, but all it does is allow your mind time to wander, so instead of watching the couple in front of you walk hand in hand, laughing like they hadn’t a care in the world, you head back to the apartment and wrap up in a blanket.

Spencer says he loves you. He wouldn’t lie. You have to hear his voice. Pulling out your phone, you ask him to call you as soon as he can.

I’m not feeling great, Spence. Really…alone.

You place the phone back in your pocket and wrap the blanket tighter around yourself as you curl into the couch. Slowly, your eyes close and the voices get louder - the ones that tell you you’re not good enough, the ones that convince you Spencer’s going to dump you the moment he finds someone better.

It felt like seconds later, but apparently it was nearly an hour when the phone buzzing startles you awake. “Hello?” You ask sleepily, not bothering to check who’s calling.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He sounds terrified. You’ve never heard him like that before. “Y/N, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here. I just…I was grabbing coffee today and I got this feeling. Like you didn’t really love me. That you’d dump me when you found someone better. I went for a walk to try and clear my head but that only made it worse and then I remembered you telling me to call you or text you if I felt that way, so-“

“Breathe,” he interrupted. “I love you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved before. I’m in my hotel room for the night. I’ll stay here and say it over and over again if that’s what you need.”

Smiling to yourself, you shiver a bit, the insecurity still there in waves despite his affirmations. “I wish you were here.”

“I do too,” he says sincerely. “Next time we want to experiment with something we haven’t done before, it needs to be when I don’t have to go to work the next day.”

“Yea,” you sigh.

“Hey, why don’t you go into my closet? Right side in the back.”

Without much thought you get up and meander toward Spencer’s room. “Why?”

“I have something in there for you.”

Bending down, you push a few items of clothing to the side – a pair of pants that fell from a hanger, a random dress shoe – and there sits a box that says ‘in case of emergency’ with a little heart next to it. “What’s this?”

“Open it.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

Inside is a Disney movie, Moana, one of your favorites, a box of macaroons from a local store Spencer had taken you to before, some lavender oil and a piece of folded up paper with ‘For the Woman I Love’ written on it. “Now go put in the movie, sit on the couch, eat some chocolate and read the letter to me.”

You do exactly as he says, popping an entire chocolate into your mouth as you unfold the letter.

“Read it out loud. It’ll sink in more that way.”

I hope that you’ll never have to read this and that I’ll just be able to say it all myself, but if not, here it is. After prison, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be the same. It kind of felt like my heart had been strangled to death. I moved through life in a different way. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to let someone in. And then I saw you and I just knew. You had my heart. It was hiding with you all along.

Our dynamic is amazing and everything I’ve ever wanted in that aspect of a relationship, but apart from that you’re still everything I need. My confidant. My best friend. My happiness.

I love you. You’re everything to me.

“Spence,” you whisper as you wipe a tear from your eye. “I love you, too. So much. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon and tonight I’ll stay on the line until you fall asleep.”

The waves of insecurity from before fade further and further away as you sink back into the couch and start singing. Maybe those feelings of un-lovability will linger for a while, but with Spencer on the other line at least you won’t have to fight them alone.

[repulsivepangolin7]

Fic: 31 days of whump (6/31)

A/N: I’ll admit, I tried writing an equal-ish amount of chapters for every character. Truth is, writing Chris as hurt or in pain was hell. I ended up setting up a randomized spreadsheet just to make sure I actually wrote her a couple of times.

Word count: 291

“Hey Chris, wanna go out tonight?” was the words that came at her when she answered the phone, “Tan and I thought it would be fun to paint the town.”

Chris frowned and looked down at the dual heating pads that almost made her situation tolerable. She had one tucked behind her back, with the mouth of it pointed out to her side so it wouldn’t annoy her too much. The other one she had rested at lowest part of her abdomen.

“I really would, but I’m busy tonight.” She didn’t really view it as a lie anyway. Her plans for the evening was to sit at home, watch some brain-dead tv shows and refill the bottles with searing hot water every now and then.

“Alright, what are you doing? Planning a date?”

“Not really.” She admitted, “I’m having a night in.”

“You sound tired.”

“Yeah, I am.” She admitted.

“Are you alright?”

“Nothing to worry about.” She shrugged as it felt like her insides were twisting in on themselves, “I just don’t have the energy to go out after work today.”

“Oh, alright.” Street answered, “Do you want company? I’m pretty sure we’re up for watching 80’s B-quality movies and eat popcorn instead.”

She smiled, “No, you guys have fun at the clubs. I’m not the coolest company right now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Is Tan within eavesdropping distance?”

Quick pause, “No.”

“I’m having really bad cramps.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Street frowned, “Want me to come over with some chocolate?”

She smiled, “No, I’m good… Got my Tylenol and my ibuprofen, and my water bottle. -But thanks…”

“Alright, hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks.” Chris smiled, “And hey, please don’t mention this, alright?”

“Sure thing.” Street replied, “See you Monday?”

“Of course.”

[kohanayaki]

Caught in the Middle (Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove) Ch 4

Links: Ch 1   Ch 2   Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7

_____________________________________________________

Ch 4 .:A Date?:.

Sunlight streamed in through your window, ribbons of light cascading across your bed sheets. You could hear the faint sound of birds chirping as the morning greeted you.

And you felt like complete and utter shit. 

You groaned, your head pounding, as you tried to block out some of the light with your pillow. You'd gotten home last night at 2:00 on the dot, feeling fine. In fact, you even caught up on some homework before you went to sleep. Now you just felt like you'd been hit by a truck.

You looked over at the time, reluctantly getting out of bed when you saw how late in the morning it was. The kids were biking over in half an hour to go to the mall and you looked like hell.

You padded down the hallway, mustering up a weak laugh when you saw your brother passed out in his room, knowing he'd probably wake up to the same fate as you. 

As you made your way downstairs the smell of breakfast food made your stomach rumble on instinct. You were 'hydrated' plenty last night, but there wasn't much actual food. Your eyes lit up as you rounded the corner and saw your dad plating up some eggs, bacon, and pancakes. He grinned as he saw you, setting the plate down on the table in front of you. 

“And how is my daughter doing this fine morning?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Swell,” you said sarcastically.

He laughed, walking over to the cabinet to get you some Tylenol and a glass of water. 

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” he said, “I can't really say anything on this one, I'd be lying if I said I haven't done worse when I was your age. That hangover is punishment enough. Just drink water throughout the day, and go on and eat something greasy while you're at the mall too. But get your blood sugar up right now, I don't want you back in that car until your head's clear, you understand?”

“Will do,” you said, already stuffing your face, “Thanks, dad.”

“You're welcome,” he smiled, “Love you, drive safe.”

“Love you too,” you said through a mouthful of bacon. 

As he retreated back into his office you savored the taste of the feast he made for you. You smiled fondly as you did. Your dad didn't really cook until he became a single parent. When he took on the full responsibility of raising you and your brother, he tried his best to fill your mom's role, following the old recipe books she'd left behind. His first attempts were a general health hazard, but as time went on he actually turned out to be a great cook.

The sudden ringing of bicycle bells outside your house made you scarf down the rest of your plate, snatching your car keys off the table. 

You opened the front door to see the whole gang waiting for you.

“I swear, the only time you guys are on time for anything is when you're leeching off of me,” you said, unlocking the car and leaving them to figure out the seating.

“You know us so well,” Dustin said, hopping into the shotgun seat before anyone else could take it. 

“I forgot to ask earlier, but how was that summer camp you went to, Dustin?” you asked, turning on the engine.

“It was so cool,” he beamed, “Our counselor taught us how to make all kinds of inventions. I made a self-nailing hammer, a wind powered clock, and a radio tower so I can talk to my girlfriend whenever I want since her parents monitor her phone calls.”

“Girlfriend?” you turned to look at him. He smiled back at you, bright as anything.

“Yeah, we were surprised too,” Max said from the back.

“Although we're not sure she actually exists,” Mike chimed in, “Apparently she's as hot as Phoebe Cates.”

“Hotter than Phoebe Cates,” Dustin corrected, “And she's a genius too.”

“Riiight,” Lucas said. 

“Well I think she sounds great, Dusty,” you said, “It's pretty romantic you built that radio tower just to talk to her.”

“It's the strongest communications network in Hawkins across 150 channels,” he said proudly.

“Well, that's certainly impressive,” you grinned, ruffling his hair. 

Soon you pulled up to one of the many entrances to the mall, stopping at the curb. 

“Well, this is your stop, guys,” you said, “What are you gonna see?”

“The Stuff,” Mike said excitedly. 

“Isn't that rated R?” you questioned, a brow raised. 

All of them looked at each other, slightly panicked.

“Well, we'll see you later, (Y/n)!” Lucas said, flinging open the back door and getting out as fast as he could. Everyone else quickly fled after him, running towards the theater. You shook your head. They got themselves into a lot of shenanigans, but admittedly you were the one instigating it most of the time when you were younger, even if you were the babysitter. 

However, as soon as the kids left for the movie you were painfully reminded of the throbbing headache you had. You groaned as one of the strobe lights around the movie theater glared in your face, not helping matters in the slightest. 

You knew eating a bunch of greasy food technically didn't do anything for a hangover, but it sure made you feel a hell of a lot better emotionally. With that in mind you decided to walk over to the Burger Chef located inside the mall for a little pick me up. 

Luckily for you there wasn't much of a line. Only a few people were scattered around the seating area at the food court. You were looking over the menu hanging on the wall when a familiar voice broke your train of thought.

“(Y/n)?”

You looked around at the sound of your name to see Steve looking back at you, just as surprised. 

“Hey,” you said. You took a moment to look over him. He looked just as awful as you did, if you were honest. The deep-set bags under his tired eyes aged him an eternity, and he looked a bit green as well. 

“You too, huh?” You bit back a grin as you gave him a short laugh through your nose.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “In hind sight I probably shouldn't have mixed liquors, but hey, there's nothing I can do about it now. Figured some fries might help.”

“They always do,” you said, “What are you doing here, anyways? Aren't you on your shift at Scoops?” You noticed he was still in his work uniform.

“Lunch break,” he explained, “I don't really have long, but we can grab a table if you want.”

“I'd like that,” you smiled.

Steve was a little surprised at his own forwardness. Apparently he was hungover enough to not overthink everything that came out of his mouth. However he was even even more surprised at you agreeing to sit down with him. He didn't know why his brain was making such a big deal out of this; you ate lunch with him every day and hung out together all the time, but then again that was also including a group of other people. You and Steve had never really spent time together when it was just the two of you, except for when you iced his busted face after the basketball stunt, which hardly counted as a first date. 

He felt uncharacteristically nervous as he slid into the booth next to you. A year ago he would have been pulling out all the stops to make you his, but now he just wasn't so sure anymore. He was never afraid of rejection before, but when he thought of you as the one rejecting him he figured it would be better to not say anything at all. 

'Get yourself together,' Steve thought to himself, 'It's just lunch with a friend. Friends do that!'

“Penny for your thoughts, Popeye?” you said, flicking the fabric of his sailor hat. 

“Huh?” Steve said, snapping out of it, “Oh, nothing, just, uh. . .” he quickly picked up a menu, hoping to cover the majority of his reddening face with it, “Looking at the XXL Supreme. 2Lb beef patty with bbq sauce, ranch, fried pickles, beer cheese and. . . yeah, that sounds pretty gross.”

“I'll probably stick to a regular burger,” you laughed, glancing at the menu over his shoulder. 

You were so close he could feel the heat coming off your body and smell the sweet scent of your perfume. He scolded himself for being so weak, forcing himself to concentrate only on the food. 

Right at that moment a waiter strolled up to you, writing pad in hand. 

“Hi. Welcome to Burger Chef,” he said, sounding just as dead inside as he looked, “How may I serve you today?”

“A double patty melt with cheddar,” Steve said, “And a coke, please.”

“I'm trying to decide between-” you stopped yourself as you looked up, staring at the waiter. You thought he looked familiar and it was then that you realized he was one of the guys that bullied your brother in middle school. Your eyes narrowed as you recalled how he and his friends cut the strings on Kyle's guitar when he brought it to school one day. 

You saw a flash of recognition in his eyes and your lips curved upwards.

“The classic burger, simple,” you said, the fakest smile you could muster on your face, “But on a sesame bun instead of the brioche, no mayo, extra mustard, add caramelized onions and extra cheese, and don't forget the pickles. If you could add shredded lettuce instead of the whole leaf that'd be great. Oh, and a Neapolitan shake with chocolate syrup and no whipped cream.”

“We don't have a Neapolitan shake,” he said irritably and slightly panicked, trying to write everything down. 

“Well I heard in your commercial if you just ask, an employee would be happy to mix any of the milkshake flavors together,” you said, your smirk widening. What could you say? Being a bitch was fun sometimes- especially when the person on the receiving end was a total dickhead. 

“Coming right up,” the waiter said through his teeth.

Steve looked between the two of you before the waiter stormed off to the kitchen window, slamming his hand down on the bell with more force than necessary.

“So, what'd he do?” Steve chuckled.

“Bullied my brother really bad in school,” you said, “What goes around comes around, though. In a few years Kyle will be off to LA to start touring with his band and this guy will still be here covered in fry grease wearing a burger shaped hat.”

“Well I hope that's not my fate,” Steve said, only half joking as he took his uniform hat off, twirling it in his hands. 

You could tell even though he tried to hide behind the humor it was something he really was concerned about. 

“Hey, don't worry about it,” you said, nudging his shoulder lightly, “You're not an asshole. . . anymore.”

You managed to get a laugh out of him at the end and you smiled, glad you were at least able to cheer him up some.

“Seriously, though, it's fine to not know what you want to do with your life yet,” you said, “Hell, I know grown ass men who still don't know what they're doing. You don't have to go to some fancy college to do something great.”

Steve looked at you, thinking over your words. He thought it was crazy how you were his age but you were so much more mature and optimistic than he was. The way you thought was unlike anyone he's met before in Hawkins, and it only further intensified his wanting to get to know you.

“Thanks, (Y/n),” he smiled.

Meanwhile, your little crew of gremlins had finished their film, now making their way to the food court for lunch.

“What do you think The Stuff tastes like?” Lucas asked to no one in particular.

“I bet it's like Betty Crocker frosting,” Dustin said dreamily.   

“Um can we not talk about how sentient parasitic goo tastes? Because we're literally about to go eat,” Max said.

Suddenly Dustin stopped in his tracks, making Will run into his back. 

“Dustin, what the hell?” Mike said, screeching to a halt before he could collide with Will. 

“No way,” Dustin said, staring far off some place the others couldn't see.

“What's wrong?” El asked, confused. 

Dustin pulled his friends behind the shrubbery next to the fountain, ducking in the cover as he peeked his head out slightly. 

“They're on a date!” Dustin said, a little too loudly. He ignored the stares he got from passersby as he continued to watch you and Steve laugh over your burgers in your shared booth.

“(Y/n) and Steve?” Mike said, “I thought he was still hung up over Nancy breaking up with him.”

“Well clearly the man's moved on,” Lucas said.

Max rolled her eyes, hitting him on the arm.

“Ow!” Lucas exclaimed, turning to her, “What was that for?”

“Just because a guy and a girl are hanging out doesn't mean it's a 'date',” she pointed out, “Maybe they're just good friends. I've seen them around each other a lot at school.”

“I think he finally worked up the courage to ask her out for real,” Dustin started theorizing, ignoring Max completely. 

“What do you mean for real?” Will asked.

“It's so obvious he's into her but he's scared of striking out,” Dustin said, “That whole Nancy situation really struck a blow to his self confidence.”

Mike tried to get a better look at what you two were doing, leaning over El's shoulder and squinting at the burger place. Suddenly his footing slipped from under him as he accidentally took a step on the wet tile near the fountain and fell on his ass into a bush. 

“Shit!”

You and Steve stopped eating your burgers and turned around at the sudden noise, but saw nothing but a ruffle in the plants nearby. 

“That was weird,” you said, looking around. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, “Well, it's bear season, you never know when they'll sneak up on you.”

You laughed at that, the sound making Steve's heart flutter. He loved your laugh, even more so when he knew he was the cause of it. 

Suddenly Steve remembered his shift was probably starting, his lunch break was less than an hour long.

“Shit, I should've been back ten minutes ago,” Steve said, looking down at his watch, “My shift already started.”

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn't mean for this to go on for so long.”

Steve looked surprised, shaking his head vigorously. 

“No, no, I liked it,” he said, not fully registering how the sentence sounded out loud until your cheeks flushed.

“I-I mean-”

“I get it,” you laughed softly, “I liked it too.”

Steve felt like his heart was just shot through with cupid's arrow as you smiled up at him and offered to walk him back to Scoops. He hadn't felt this way since Nancy. After she broke his heart he was convinced he would never get over her, but now you were here, occupying all the free space in his mind despite only knowing you for a short while. What the hell was going on with him?

His mental debate came to an unceremonious stop when he realized you were already in front of the ice cream shop.

Steve turned to you and did his best to sound indifferent. He had a really good time, but he didn't know if you felt the same way.

“Well, I better get back to it,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, “You know, suit up, sling ice cream, appease the masses-”

“We should do this again sometime,” you said, effectively flipping the 'off' switch on his rambling. 

Steve seemed to freeze in this plane of existence, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah! I mean, that's what I was gonna ask you, but I didn't know if you wanted to, and. . .” he trailed off, kicking himself again.   

'When you talk you just make it worse,' he mentally scolded himself.

You laughed a bit at his flushed face.

'Adorable,' you thought. For being the former king of Hawkins High, he was still a giant dork.

“Well I'll definitely see you around this time, then,” you smiled, reminded of your first day back. Things were different between you two now, but that wasn't a bad thing at all.

You walked out of Scoops Ahoy feeling lighter, a smile on your face and your headache long forgotten. With your disastrous dating history, maybe Steve Harrington was the kind of guy who could be good for you right now.

The very thought made you feel giddy inside, but as you said yourself before, life had a funny way of changing your plans completely.

Read Chapter 5 here!

Taglist: @in-my-dreams-2000 @ggclarissa @iris1697 @5sosxgrethan @ohnoniella @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @aspiring-fangirls-world @wow-im-so-tired @hopesxxhigh @justanothercrazyassfangirl @too-many-lanes @whimsylavender @bish-ima-clown @amarachoren @mosiacbrokenheartstf @mcuvlxgs @xapham @metuel18 @immirandaq @nellaphine @multi-madison @gingertalksshit @jojo-buttercup @kyberhearts @mvdelaine @minnie-marvel @caitlin-rose28 @zandaleekrz @r3inventedd @void-fire-rose @macymafia @wanna-be-idle @newtsshelbys @kimmydespell @weyheyokay @r4ttusr4ttus @cynthianokamaria

[anyway-i-love-vanderwood]

Hey! So, in honor of the holiday (and my poor, poor throat), how would the gang deal with MC being sick of Valentine's Day? The specifics can be up to you, it is your writing, as long as we can see some sweet Vanderwood? lolol

✿I wanted to do something short and funny to get back into HCs so thank you for this!

Yoosung

Until he actually hears your voice, he’s terrified that this is an excuse and he did something terrible to upset you. Like - oh no!! I’m the worst boyfriend!! So bad that my partner is faking sick because they’re worried I’ll publicly embarrass them or something!

I have to cancel the mariachi band I hired to serenade us at lunch!

(It was Seven’s idea. Yoosung has got to stop listening to that man.)

Once he realizes just how genuinely clogged, snotty, and feverish you are, Mama Yoosung comes out in full force. He spends the day doing all of your chores, feeding you, and generally being supportive, sweet, and loving.

He Googles every single home remedy for colds under the sun, adds in a few more from his mom, and makes you take them all.

After the fifth dose of bitter paste, you tell him that you’d rather fall into the sweet, cold embrace of death, thanks.

NO YOOSUNG, YOU ARE NOT DRINKING LIZARD BROTH.

Zen

When he learns that you’re sick, he howls with such despair that the neighbors actually bang on his door to make sure he isn’t fatally wounded.

How can you be sick? On VALENTINES DAY? The most important holiday of the year??!? He was gonna show you off to everyone! He was going to make all the singles feel what he felt when couples were broadcasting their oo-ey gooey love on the February Fest of Romantic Bliss! HE WANTED TO FEED YOU CHOCOLATE FONDUE AND GIVE YOU FIVE MILLION FLOWERS.

“Five million?” You repeat dully, your voice ragged from sinus drainage.

“Five million!”

Obviously, he insists on at least coming over so you can see his beautiful face watch romcoms together and cuddle, but he’s also an irrepressible cuddlebug and can’t not pull you into his lap for snuggles.

And smooches.

Zen, you’re lucky you have a god-tier immune system despite your nutritional intake being piss-poor, because you’re just inviting it in at this point.

Jaehee

On the disappointment scale, Jaehee checks in at around a… two or so?

She’s honestly more worried about you while simultaneously being annoyed that the booming business of Valentines Day means she can’t take time off to fuss over your health. Not that she doesn’t try, but you won’t let her because she needs the income. Running a small business is tough!

At around noon, a ring at the doorbell reveals Zen, who - with a flourish - reveals a bouquet, a resupply of medicine, and a drink from Jaehee’s cafe made especially for you. Zen will act as the courier of his favorite couples *~love~*!

Thanks zen

Once Jaehee can close up, she rushes over to come see you, and you have a wonderful, low-key tea, movie, and heart-shaped cake (that she made!) date on your couch.

Even though you’re sick and icky, it’s a nice day overall. Jaehee is a modest, warm, and caring soul who makes your stress just melt away by sitting next to you.

Or giving you a nice massage.

Thank you Jaehee and your martial arts grip!

(The others are under the read-more!)

Jumin

Oh Jumin.

He starts off the day with a racket. How could you have gotten sick? Where have you gotten germs from? STAFF, DISINFECT EVERYTHING NOW!

Once you get him to shut up honey please you are only making the headache worse, he gets much easier to deal with. Because of Jumin Han being Jumin Han, you are never actually obligated to leave your home and you have everything your heart could ever desire in the medicine, food, and chocolate category… but you still want to do something for Valentines Day with him.

Especially since Jumin Han has never gotten the chance to, well… experience the holiday in a pure way. What it actually means beyond the giant stuffed bears, fancy champagne, and chocolate truffles with too many vowels in their names.

So, you make him go on a walk with you.

He’s resistant - won’t that make your condition worse? Your insistence that you actually would like some fresh air makes him relent, and you take a short stroll together to a local park.

It’s… honestly really nice, snuggling against him against a bench and enjoying a puff pastry from a local food truck as you search for warmth against the chilly air. You people-watch, you point out fun outfits and sweet couples, and Jumin is reminded once more just how much he likes spending time with you.

No matter the setbacks, no matter the weather, no matter your current antibody level… just being with you is wonderful for him.

707

When you open the door, a rain of red sparkly glitter and shimmering confetti hearts showers down upon you. Beyond the pink mist is Seven, grinning like a jaguar and carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and NyQuil in the other.

“Honey, I got you a gift you’ll never forget!”

“What, permanent liver scarring from combining alcohol and acetaminophen or the glitter I’ll never get out of my carpet?”

“Both!”

(But seriously please do not drink and take Tylenol/DayQuil/etc it is a bad body choice)

Setting the champagne aside for later (like, when you’re feeling better later), Seven pulls out your real gift, which is an intricately detailed chocolate sculpture of the Mars Rover that he had commissioned for this special occasion.

Like, it’s so pretty that you can barely bring yourself to eat it.

How did you get this, Seven.

This is ridiculous.

Seven takes you being sick in perfect stride, almost like he’d planned for this happenstance, and you have a wonderful Valentines Day with him playing video games, watching movies, and talking about which spaceships were destined to fall in love with each other.

It is a ship war.

V

“Oh… oh no… I didn’t get you sick, did I?”

v stop blaming yourself for everything!

V has had a rough time on the dating scene, so it doesn’t matter if you’re sick and feel like shit YOU ARE TAKING THIS MAN OUT ON A DATE.

“But - “

“NO BUTS, V. TODAY IS A DAY FOR AGGRESSIVE COURTING.”

“okay”

Armed with a bag full of tissues, a thermos of tea, and the desire to show V how good you are at romance, you take him to an art gallery, a concert, and a FANCY RESTAURANT WITH CAKES SHAPED LIKE ROSES. ROSES.

“D-do you… need to step out?” V asks in a hushed whisper as you try to blow your nose as quietly as humanly possible during a violin solo.

“i ‘ m f i n e”

He thinks its sweet, though he really does wish you’d spent the day resting given that tomorrow you’re even sicker. He’ll do all the dishes and bring you some hot tea in thanks for your struggles.

Saeran/Unknown

BUT YOU AREN’T ALLOWED TO BE SICK ON VALETINES DAY, IT’S AGAINST THE RULES, HOW ARE YOU SUCH A BAD PARTNER WHO LETS THEMSELF GET SICK -

*cough cough* goes Saeran, and your eyebrows go up.

“Saeran, are those tissues in your pocket?”

“no”

“Saeran, is your… voice cracking?”

“nO”

“Saeran, is your nose red and running -?”

“NO AND STOP ASKING”

Anyway, long story short, the world’s favorite idiot dandelion is also sick on Valentines Day which is pretty typical considering he spends most of his time around you. Given the both of you are too mutually stuffy to go out and enjoy the day, you stay in and have tissue-basketball competitions and engage in your favorite pastimes: being annoying on the Internet, eating too much junk-food, and mutually refusing to admit that you’re both watching Twilight unironically. 

Which is honestly what you might be doing if you weren’t sick, but let’s not critique either of your dating techniques here considering its a miracle you aren’t both dead in a ditch somewhere.

Vanderwood

So uh. Does the relationship code obligate them to hang out with you on Valentine’s Day?

Yes?

Shit.

Look, they don’t like being around sick people, okay? And you’re so runny and germy right now. But Vanderwood also supposes that if the most romantic thing they can do today is clean up your snot, then whatever. It’s not like they actually care about a soulless corporate consumer holiday like Valentine’s Day or had plans for it or anything -

(”Vanderwood, are those tickets for that super popular musical that’s been sold out for two months sticking out of your pocket?”)

(”NO.”)

Anyway, you’re a walking plague ward, so Vanderwood puts on their face mask, strong-arms their way into your apartment (despite you telling them at least fifteen times that it’s fine, really, you don’t actually mind, they’ll catch what you have!!) and makes you chicken noodle soup. Like - goes all out on this chicken noodle soup. They make the noodles by hand! They simmer shit! Look at all of those finely chopped carrots and bits of celery, it’s like an episode of Top Chef! Damn dude, is that fresh oregano? Like, from a plant? WHY DID YOU BRING AN OREGANO PLANT OVER VANDERWOOD.

Despite them telling you to stay in bed and rest, they’ll bring you tea and medicine and cold cloths for your head, you insist on helping them. The germs will boil away with the heat, right? That’s how science works!

Vanderwood isn’t sure if that’s how science works or not, but they break when you say you don’t really want to be left alone and miserable in your room, and there’s something really appealing about you standing next to them, slicing bits of dough into thin strips of noodle and leaning against their shoulder for support…

Happy Valentines day, Vanderwood. Welcome to domesticity.

[omeliashepherdhunt]

The Hunts pt. 2

It seemed like a century had past before Owen finally made it home with Leo. He immediately ran over to Amelia to crawl onto her lap.

“Mama, look! My cast is green! That’s my favorite color like Betty’s.”

“I know it is. It looks good. Are you okay? Daddy told me you fell.”

“I fell on the rocks and my new coat you got me for Christmas is ripped. I’m so sorry, Mama.”

Amelia hugged her oldest son closely and kissed his forehead.

“Don’t be sorry. We can order you a new one. I’m just so glad you’re okay. Why don’t we go get you some Tylenol and I’ll make you some hot chocolate since you couldn’t get some after your hike.”

“Yes! That would make me so happy!”

Once Leo was resting comfortably on the couch watching his beloved Paw Patrol, Amelia went into the kitchen to clean things up. She still hadn’t said anything to Owen which only made him more frustrated with her. As soon as the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, she heard his footsteps.

“You’re going to ignore me?”

“No. I’m taking care of my son.”

“Our son! Amelia, you are blowing this way out of proportion. I was paying close attention to him. This is not my fault.”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault but you should have paid closer attention. You should have been close enough to be able to catch him, especially by the pond.”

“I’m not a perfect parent! We can go back and forth on should haves, could haves, and would haves but that’s not productive nor is it important right now. He ran ahead a few yards and lost his footing. I got to him right after he fell. We can look at the positives like the break doesn’t require surgery and that it wasn’t worse. You can think I’m a shitty dad all you want but it was an honest mistake.”

There was no time for Amelia to reply before Owen had already left the kitchen. She wanted to go after him but Hannah’s cries rang out on the baby monitor so Amelia had to tend to her first.

It was after dinner, cake, baths, and bed time before they had the chance to talk again. Owen had already showered and had on his pajama pants laying in bed. She decided to take her shower especially since they had work in the morning. Once she got through shaving and washing her hair and body, she took a minute to try to decompress. The hot water against her skin felt amazing but she wasn’t feeling that way. Amelia hated fighting with Owen more than anything. Leo breaking his arm scared her so much and she knew she didn’t portray those feelings to Owen correctly. After one final rinse she turned the water off, dried her hair and body, then walked to their closet to find something to wear. Amelia found one of Owen’s army shirts and threw it on with a pair of leggings. When she laid on her side of the bed, she saw Owen turned completely into his side facing away from her which was his way of driving the point home that he wasn’t in the mood for anything and didn’t want to be bothered.

Against her better judgement, she inched closer to him and rubbed his bicep softly. She felt some tears forming and tried her best to will them away.

“Not now.”

“Owen, please...”

He nudged her hand off of him and sighed deeply which made her sharply inhale. Amelia didn’t know what to do now and willing away her tears had failed. She moved back to her side of the bed and laid on her back to stare up at the ceiling. After a few minutes she saw him roll over onto his back so she quickly wiped her tears. Amelia wasn’t sure what the true reason was for her tears... It could be post partum hormones, being scared about Leo, or being sad that they were at odds with one another.

“I know you’re crying.”

“I’m fine. You can just go to sleep.”

A sarcastic chuckle escaped from Owen.

“I know you better than you know yourself. You’re not fine. Can you look at me?”

Stubbornly, Amelia fixated on their ceiling fan.

“Everything is fine. If I look at you, I will cry. I don’t want to cry.”

Owen rolled over to his side and gently caressed her cheek. His thumb wiped away one of her fallen tears and softly turned her head so they could be face to face. Just as she had warned, her tears spilled freely which made Owen’s heart constrict.

“Please don’t cry, babe. I know today was bad.”

“I don’t think you’re a shitty dad whatsoever. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“It’s okay... I know you were scared. I was scared too.”

“I need you to know that I think you’re an amazing dad. Betty, Leo, Jonah, Piper, and Hannah think you hung the moon. I love watching you with our kids because it’s so natural from you. You’re great with them. I couldn’t ask for a better man to father my children.”

Owen kissed her forehead and presses his forehead to hers.

“I know what you think of me. We both acted out in the spur of the moment. I love you Amelia.”

“I love you too. I love you so much. Thank you for being there with him today. There’s no one that boy loves more than you.”

“Of course babe. That’s our son.”

Amelia moved closer and was relieved when Owen pulled her close into his arms. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, taking in his delicious scent.

“I’m sorry I acted how I did. I really am, Owen. I felt so helpless because I couldn’t be there.”

“I know. I don’t blame you. Tomorrow is a new day and it’ll be better.”

“I pushed my surgeries so that I’ll be in my office for paperwork most of the day tomorrow unless any neuro emergencies come in. That way Leo can be with me and I can monitor his pain. He can go back to school Friday.”

“Sounds good mama. He’s going to love spending the day with you. Hopefully I can have lunch with you two in the cafeteria.”

They laid there in each other’s arms quietly for a moment until the baby started to fuss and cry out.

“She must hate me. She never sleeps when I try to.”

Amelia reluctantly pulled herself out of Owen’s arms and picked Hannah up from her crib. They found their way back to the bed and Owen helped her pull her shirt off for the baby to feed and snaked his arms back around them. Hannah latched on effortlessly and starting suckling. They both looked down at their youngest baby and admired her beautiful face. She had her daddy’s shade of blue eyes and her mama’s dark hair and dimples.

“She loves you, Mia. Judging by her heavy eyes, she probably isn’t hungry. She just missed you and wanted to be comforted. Just let her sleep with us. We will all sleep better that way.”

It didn’t take Amelia long at all to agree to it. Hannah lived for skin to skin with Amelia, and Owen loved having his girls close.

[hetaliaarttrades]

Round Robin #1 - Hungary has a bad day

The first round robin exercise we did as a group!

Written by @dragonsaphirareads @truephandomtrash @neetstudioart @bananapajama87

Prompt -  “My uterus is shedding and I will not hesitate to stab you”

Elizabeta was about to hit her limits. Her friends’ voices were grating on every nerve she had, her body was screaming in protest with every movement, and worst of all she’d just remembered that she’d just run out of chocolate in the house.

When Alfred started laughing wildly at a joke at Carlos’s expense, she snapped. Eliza spun on her heel and pointed sharply in Alfred’s face, not even an inch from his nose. “If you don’t can that stupid laugh of yours right now, I am going to personally rip out your vocal chords.”

Alfred was, understandably, very concerned by her sudden outburst and even more so the look of absolute murder in her eyes. He took a step back, hands in surrender and laughing nervously.

“Ha, um, ok, Eliza... What’s the matter with you?”

Her voice lowered and she curled her lip. “My uterus is shedding and I will not hesitate to stab you if you get any more on my nerves than you already are.”

Carlos and Feliciano glanced at each other. The former wasn’t exactly unhappy that Alfred was called out, but it was a little scary to see Eliza in such a state of rage.

The italian boy stepped forward and put a cautious hand on her shoulder.

“Is there anything we can do to help, Eliza?”

She took a breath, breathing out slowly. Her abdomen was actually killing her, and walking home was just making it feel worse. All she wanted to do was lay down with her hot pad, put on Netflix and eat some chocolate until she felt better.

“I’m sorry, guys, I’m just really irritable right now. Cramps suck ass.”

The guys shrugged at each other. Of course they wouldn’t understand, but Feli smiled in sympathy.

“I know, mi sorella complains about them all the time. Do you want to stop by my house first? We might have some medicine for you.”

Feliciano’s house was much closer than hers, and the prospect of painkillers was enough. She nodded, and the other guys followed along as they took a detour through a neighbor’s yard to get there faster.

“So, how much does it really hurt?” Alfred asked, clearly a glutton for punishment. Eliza smiled dangerously, turning her head to look him in the eyes.

“Well, imagine that someone stabbed you right in the gut. With a butter knife. Then, they reached in and took your guts and started squeezing.” To make her point stronger, she took Alfred’s arm and squeezed it as tight as she could with both hands. He winced and tried to pull away. “But that’s not it. They also decided that they should spread that pain to your legs, and your back, and your chest. And give you a headache, no matter how many painkillers you take.”

Alfred winced again. “Ouch.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Ouch. So you’ll excuse me if I decide that all I want to do is stab a hoe and hope they suffer the same pain as me,” she said staring directly at Alfred who couldn’t help but fear for his life. Was all girls this crazy when their periods started? It was that moment he decided he was blessed that he was born a guy instead of a girl dealing with periods.

Luckily for Alfred (and possibly the rest of the guys as well), they had arrived at Feliciano’s house which he quickly let in Elizabeta. She brushed past everyone and headed to the bathroom. He stared after her form before turning at the other two.

“So… who wants to be the one to tell her that the painkillers are actually in the kitchen- and I’m not doing it,” Feliciano quickly added at the end. He knows how girls can get on their periods and last time he told his sister that they were out of painkillers, he ended up with half his hair gone and a black eye. It wasn’t a fun day that day and he would rather not have a repeat that day.

Carlos and Alfred both looked at each other before quickly shouting, “Not it!” The two exchanged glares as electricity flew between them. Neither wanted to die today.

“Hey you said you are a hero? You supposed to be brave and I insist go showing off your bravery today,” Carlos gritted out at him.

“Its to save people and not to get myself killed. Why don’t you go? You always insist that you are stronger and better than me,” Alfred shoot back.

Tension only grew between the two and Feliciano instinctively retreated backwards away from them. No way was he going to risk his neck to stop them. Fortunately (or unfortunately), it was interrupted by a loud frustrated scream followed by loud stomping. Alfred and Carlos froze hearing the footsteps growing closer and closer and turn to look where Feliciano was only to find that he had disappeared. Of course the Italian retreated to safety leaving the two to handle an angry and frustrated girl on their period who may or may not stab them because she couldn’t find the painkillers.

“Hehe… I just remember I got something to do,” Alfred nervously said and tried to leave only for Carlos to grab him by the collar of his shirt pulling him back in and shoved him towards the sound.

“I actually have to get going. I insist you go,” Carlos said backing towards the door. Alfred glared at him and soon the two were fighting to get out of the door neither of them wanting to die.

However, they froze when a bloodlust curled up their spines greeting them with a bone chilling numbness. They slowly turned to see Elizabeta somehow found a spoon and was holding it threateningly to them. “I will only ask once and once only… where is THE MEDICINE CABINET?!?!” Elizaveta shrieked, winding up to hit Alfred across the face with her spoon.

“Yo I don’t know! It’s Feliciano’s house, why are you asking me?!” he yelled, flinching under the woman’s hard gaze. She whirled around wildly, trying to find her new target.

“Oh Feli! Where are you? You can’t promise me painkillers and then just disappear honey!” Her voice was suddenly very sweet and dripping with threat. She began to prowl around the room like a tigress on the hunt. Suddenly she ripped a tablecloth off a coffee table with a yell, revealing Feliciano, curled into a little ball underneath.

“AHH! Don’t hurt me please! I’m much too young and delicate to be hit with a spoon!” he squeaked, his eyes filled with tears as he fell into his practiced wails for mercy. Carlos and America looked at each other in fright, they had never seen Elizaveta this angry, and certainly not towards Feliciano. Those two usually got along pretty well. But right now, they were realizing why their other friends were so scared of her. In her hands, that spoon looked like a broadsword.

“There’s absolutely no reason why I should hurt you, if you give me what I came here for.”“It’s in the kitchen! PLEASE! Let me go!”  Elizaveta had already dragged Feliciano out from underneath the table by his shirt collar and was dangling him a foot and a half off the ground with one arm, her other arm wielding the spoon.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?! Do you know how terrible walking up stairs when it feels like your lower spine is being ripped out?” she whispered harshly.

“Don’t be mad, please, I didn’t mean to!”

“Oh I’m not mad, just a little annoyed you made me waste my time. I really don’t like wasted time where this agony is concerned.” She then threw Feli down onto a nearby couch and beconned Carlos and Alfred over to her.

“Come with me, we’re going on a little treasure hunt.” The two men were too afraid to do anything but follow when she threw open the door to the kitchen and stomped in.

“Yo, dude, I wouldn’t want to come across her in a dark alley.”

“Si, I don’t think anything could stop her now that she’s on the warpath like this.”

“Yeah no wonder Gilbert is always tiptoeing around her.” The two men tried to make themselves seem as small as possible as Elizabeta lead them to the kitchen. Hopefully if they were quiet, she would forget they were there. Alfred began to wonder if her sight was based on movement, like in those dinosaur movies. Carlos began to wonder if she could smell his fear. They were headed into a room filled with objects much more dangerous than a spoon. Eliza ran to the nearest cabinet and threw open the doors. She began searching for any kind of pain medicine while Alfred and Carlos stood quietly behind her like scared puppies. The search continued for 5 minutes, half opened boxes of pasta laid on the ground, and no medicine could be found.  

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THE TYLENOL!” Eliza screamed out at the couch where Feli was dropped. Eliza grabbed the nearest frying pan and stomped over to Feliciano, ready to whack a bitch.

‘’I COULDN'T FIND THE FUCKING MEDICINE” Eliza pointed the frying pan at the Italians head  

“DONNA PER FAVORE PLEASE DON’T HURT ME I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIEEEE!” Feli cried out, slightly shaking. Eliza smiled creepily

“Give me the medicine and maybe i won't be so harsh.”    

Feli ran into the kitchen, passing Carlos and Alfred, who were cleaning up the mess that the enraged Eliza made. He died slightly inside, seeing all of his pasta RUINED. Feliciano went over to a small, untouched cabinet above the microwave and got the medicine that was needed. He also grabbed a bottle of water and a small bar of chocolate from his fridge. Feli ran back to Eliza, who was laying on the couch cuddling her frying pan. Feli gently gave her what he grabbed from the wreck that he called his kitchen.

‘‘T-thank you” Eliza said sniffling. Was she crying?

“Are you ok? Feliciano asked, very worried about Eliza’s sanity

“Do i look oh-fucking-kay to you”

“What's wrong?”

“I AM IN PAIN FELI THAT'S WHAT'S FUCKING WRONG”  

‘‘Oh…..” Feli replied, surprised at her outburst. Eliza took the medicine and quickly devoured the chocolate that Feli gave her. Alfred and Carlos peeked out of the kitchen, the danger of being murdered seemingly low. The boys all sat down at the various chairs in the living room. One hour and a crappy X-Files rerun later everything was calm again. Eliza slowly fell asleep and the house was quiet again.

“Soooo… who’s gonna tell her that she has to go back home?” Carlos asked.

[ibelongtonegan]

Blood and Chocolate (Negan one-shot)

This story is for @jeffreydeanneganstrash’s “Negan’s Valentine Challenge”. Thank you for allowing me to participate in this!

The prompt that I chose was “Handcuffs x Chocolate” and while in itself it would have called for a simple Valentine’s Day fuckfest involving handcuffs and candies, I decided to spice things up a little bit with a few drops of blood. I have always wanted to write a fic on period sex and decided to combine it with this prompt. While I know it may not be everybody’s cup of tea (please read the warnings before reading!), I had a lot of fun writing this fic and hope you will like it!

Summary: you can’t wait to celebrate Valentine’s Day with Negan but being on your period you are not comfortable with the idea of becoming intimate with your husband until he convinces you otherwise...

Characters: Negan x Reader

Word count: 5,760

Warnings: daddy kink, dirty talk, smut (cum play, oral sex, orgasm withdrawal, period blood play, period sex, rough sex, spanking, vaginal sex), swearing

Tags: @jeffreydeanneganstrash, @negans-network, @i-am-negan-trash, @emoryhemsworth, @ridingmoxley, @ladysyn, ​

Please let me know if you want on/off my forever tag list!

I appreciate feedback and most days don’t bite. So don’t be shy, please feel free to comment, message or ask me anything!

You winced in pain and wrapped your arms around your legs, hugging them close to your chest. You would have given an arm and a leg for a Tylenol right now, or better yet, your uterus and all your remaining ovaries to make the pain stop, but unfortunately the Sanctuary had run out of painkillers weeks ago. Before the apocalypse, you would have popped a pill or used a hot pillow to curl up in bed with along with your favourite TV show and a bar of chocolate to make it through the first day of your period. You were lucky that cramps only bothered you at the beginning of your flow and then subsided quickly, but without any of the comforts you were used to before it was a dreadful day every month.

But pain was not the only thing that bothered you this evening. You had to get your period today of all days. It wasn’t supposed to start until late next week, but for some reason, it decided to grace you with its presence unexpectedly and if that wasn’t enough, right on Valentine’s Day. Or, to be more precise, on your day of Valentine’s Week.

Since your husband had multiple wives, seven in total and couldn’t split Valentine’s Day into seven equal pieces, Negan decided to celebrate each day of the week with another wife, renaming it Valentine’s Week. He allowed you to agree on the schedule and each of the wives to pick their favourite day in advance and you were more than happy to go with Sunday, the last Valentine’s Day of the week.

But Mother Nature seemed to have other plans for you. Instead of moans of pleasure she decided to gift you with moans of pain, to remind you of her almighty presence in the grand scheme of things, with little regard to the world turning into a living hell with reanimated corpses walking among the living, or today being Valentine’s Day and your plans for a night of carnal bliss with your husband. You hoped that whoever Mother Nature was, she went through the same hell of cramps every month. It was only fair.  

You had no idea what to do about your predicament. Had you known that your period was about to start, you would have picked another day of the week, but it was too late for that now. When Simon knocked on your door an hour ago with an envelope and a beautiful gift box in hand, your heart skipped a beat. The envelope contained a letter handwritten by Negan telling you that he was looking forward to spending tonight with you and that he wanted you to wear the gift he sent you and nothing else.

You knew that Negan would inevitably come to your room, but didn’t know how to tell him that you couldn’t spend the night with him. You had never refused his advances before and having been a wife for only a month, you had not had to deal with the question of sex on your period either. You could have asked Sherry or Amber for advice but being Negan’s newest wife meant that you weren’t close enough to any of them yet to trust them with such a personal matter.

First, you didn’t even want to open the box, and just set it aside. You had no intention of changing out of your comfortable sweatpants and oversized hoodie that wrapped you up in a cocoon, safe and warm. But curiosity got the better of you. Slowly untying the black ribbon, you unwrapped the shiny silver paper, careful not to tear it. Inside was an elegant cream coloured cardboard box with two words written on it in ornate black letters:

Agent Provocateur

You removed the lid of the box and put your hands in front of your mouth in shock. It was the most beautiful set of lingerie you had ever seen. Sheer, black, lacy, complete with bra, thong, stockings and suspenders, wrapped in elegant tissue paper. Leaving little to the imagination and designated for a single purpose: to seduce and be seduced. The perfect gift for Valentine’s Day, for both of your pleasure. You couldn’t help but bow down before your husband’s impeccable taste.

You ran your fingers over the fabric and imagined how soft it would feel on your skin. Closing your eyes, you saw Negan in front of you entering your room and taking in for the first time your half-naked form lying on the bed wearing the outfit he had selected for you. You could see his hazel eyes, dark with hunger and him licking his lips in anticipation. His mouth curled up into a smirk revealing a set of dimples that made him even more handsome. He was about to speak, and you expected to hear a remark of appreciation, followed by something naughty. But the words you heard next were anything but naughty and nothing resembling appreciation.

“Doll, why the fuckity fuck haven’t you changed into the clothes I sent you?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your mouth fell agape when you noticed Negan standing at the door with a look of displeasure written on his face. You got so caught up in your little fantasy that you didn’t hear him enter your room.  

He was wearing grey pants, and a white t-shirt, his red scarf wrapped around his neck and his signature black leather jacket draped over his shoulder leisurely. The only item missing from his usual attire was Lucille, but the fact that he was currently sans his beloved baseball bat didn’t make his presence any less intimidating. He held two boxes in his hand, a smaller, rectangular one and a bigger, heart-shaped one.

The intensity of his gaze made you freeze, the invisible command in his eyes leaving no doubt in you that he was expecting an answer, and quickly. Negan had little patience for disobedience, and right now you were actively ignoring his wish he had expressed loud and clear in his letter. While you had been a wife for a short time only, you knew well enough that this could be considered a dangerous game, which wouldn’t go unpunished if you didn’t come up with a reasonable explanation.

“I’m sorry, Negan,” you replied timidly, looking down on the set of lingerie sitting on your lap. “It’s beautiful, I love it. It’s just that...I’m not feeling like it today. It’s one of my ugly days.”

You put the lid back on the box and set it down on the cushion feeling as if you didn’t deserve such a special gift.

“Nonsense, baby. Every day is your ‘fucking sexy’ day if you ask me.” Negan removed his leather jacket from his shoulder and draped it over the couch next to the door.

You peaked up at him through your eyelashes following his every move in an attempt to assess his mood. While he looked tense and somewhat disappointed, probably having expected to see you in less and much sexier clothing by this point, he didn’t seem to be angry with you either. Your excuse, even if it was only half the truth, was enough to spare you his wrath at your insubordination, at least for now. But Negan was a tenacious man, and you were sure he wasn’t going to let it go, especially when it concerned the promise of sex or especially the denial of it.

He made his way to your bed and sat down next to you, the mattress sinking in slightly under his weight.

“Look, baby, I brought you more presents,” he beamed putting down the two boxes on the bed between you. “Open the red one first.”

He nuzzled your hair with his nose, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your arms. You closed your eyes and inhaled his manly scent, a combination of leather, body wash and musk. You lifted the top of the heart-shaped box and found a selection of handmade chocolates inside, arranged in a beautiful pattern.

“Chocolate?” you squealed in delight. “I haven’t had chocolate in...I don’t know since when. Thank you, Negan. But how did you get this?” you asked in surprise. Such delicacies were a particularly rare treat in the apocalypse and practically impossible to find.

“I have my ways,” he muttered while starting to trail soft kisses along your neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Now open the black box,” he instructed.

You set the chocolate down on the nightstand and opened the second box. Lifting the lid, you found a pair of silver handcuffs resting on a purple cushion inside.

“Oh...am I in trouble, Daddy?” you purred against his lips innocently.

Fire flashed in his eyes at your words and the air between you changed suddenly, turning from light and playful to hot and heavy.

“You are in a whole fucking lot of trouble, little one,” he groaned deeply, and the underlying threat in his words made heat pool in your belly. He moved his hand up to your neck and gently tilted your head back to get more access to your exposed skin.

For a moment you almost forgot that you couldn’t have sex with him tonight. The scrape of his stubble left a delicious burn in its wake, making you go weak in the knees. You wanted him and wanted to give in to him, but couldn’t. Shaking your head to regain your composure you leaned away from your husband’s touch reluctantly.

“I’m not sure about tonight, Negan,” you offered meekly, fidgeting with the handcuffs in your lap. The metal jingled between your shaking fingers.

A disapproving look crossed Negan’s face. He might have had little patience for disobedience, but he had zero tolerance for stalling, and you could tell that he knew something was up. Still, you were too embarrassed to reveal the real reason for your rejection and were desperately searching for a way out of your dilemma without pissing your husband off.  

“I mean...I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day,” you asserted and cringed internally at how lame it sounded as soon as the words left your mouth. “I know Frankie gave you a naked oil massage on Wednesday and Amber baked you heart-shaped muffins yesterday. I ran out of ideas on what I could give you that they haven’t done already before me. I’m sorry that I cannot reciprocate your gifts.”

You looked up at Negan hoping you sounded and looked convincing. He tilted his head to the side and studied your face for a moment, apparently trying to decide if you were being sincere or playing games with him. Finally, the corners of his lips curled upwards into a lascivious smile, flashing his pearly white teeth.

“I don’t mind, baby girl. You can repay me in kind,” he chuckled tracing his upper lips with the tip of his tongue and started kissing your neck again. “I think we should put these to good use right away,” Negan coaxed with a devilish smirk and picking up the handcuffs from the box in your lap, twirled them around his index finger lazily.

“Negan...I’m not sure about this,” you mumbled under your breath, hating that you couldn’t say yes to him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart, you are usually up for kinky sex!” Negan regarded you with a puzzled expression, visibly getting impatient now.

“I’m not feeling well, to be honest.”

“I will make you feel better immediately,” he winked at you suggestively and lowered his hand to your lap, tracing circles on the soft fabric. The heat of his fingers was seeping through the sweatpants right into your core.

“Negan, stop. We can’t...,” you pleaded and put your hand on his before it could go higher up your thigh.

“Oh, okay, I see what’s going on now.” His eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch. “You’re playing hard to get. I love it when you do that.”

“No, it’s not that, Negan.”

You shook your head in desperation and put your hand firmly on his chest to keep him at a safe distance.

“Then what the fuck is it, doll? Because you are sure as shit wearing my patience thin,” Negan snapped, the playful tone of earlier now completely gone from his voice. “Tell me!” he demanded in irritation.

“I’m sorry, Negan, it’s...it’s just that...it’s that time of the month!” you blurted out partly relieved that the truth was finally out but on the other hand feeling even more embarrassed than before. “And...I have cramps, feel bloated and ugly, and you cannot possibly want me like this,” you finished with a sigh and wrapped your arms around your chest protectively.

You expected Negan to stand up and leave the room angered and disappointed with you but instead, he cupped your chin and lifted it up so that you were looking at him. His face showed no sign of anger or disappointment, but pure infatuation and raw passion.

“Baby, you are my wife, and I love you. I would want you even if you were covered in walker guts,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Ewww...,” you wrinkled your nose in disgust and slapped his arm lightly.

“Plus I have the perfect cure for your cramps,” Negan added with a wink.

“I thought we ran out of painkillers.”

“We did, but this is a natural remedy.”

A hint of mischief gleamed in his eyes.

“A pill?” you queried.

“No, doll, this one is not taken orally. Well, it can be, but not if you wish to take advantage of its beneficial side-effects.”

You looked at your husband honestly bewildered now.

“I don’t understand. What kind of medication is this then?”

“I have it right here tucked away in my pants,” Negan said simply and laid back on his elbows on the mattress.

At first, you thought he meant tucked away in his pockets but then followed his gaze to the centre of his pants and the outline of an impressive bulge.

You folded your arms in front of your chest and narrowed your eyes at him with a frown.

“Negan, if this is another one of your dirty jokes then I’m not in the mood for them right now.”

“No, doll. This is no joke. The cure for your cramps is sex. There is nothing better to make the pain go away than an orgasm.”

“But is...sex on my period? You know...?”

“Is that what?” he inquired sensing your hesitation.

“Normal?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up, still not entirely comfortable with talking about the topic in front of him.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t it be normal? Yeah, it can be a little messy, but I fucking love messy sex. You never had sex on your period before?”  

You shook your head embarrassed.

“My ex...he said that it was gross and he wouldn’t come near me when it was “shark week” as he liked to call it. He thought that period blood was disgusting and that I smelled weird during those days, no matter how many times I showered.”

Negan made a low grunt in his throat and bared his teeth like an angry wolf.

“Doll, that stupid fuck should be glad that he’s dead already, otherwise I would track him down and shove Lucille right up his sorry ass and twirl her around twice to teach him a lesson for that fucking insult. Period sex is abso-fucking-lutely normal, hell, I find it fucking awesome! Not that I don’t find sex in general awesome already, but there’s just something about period sex that makes it even hotter than usual.”

His confession amazed you. Not only was he not grossed out by the idea, but he was even turned on by it!

“But won’t it hurt?”

“Well, I can’t make any promises to go slow, you know how worked up being inside that hot pussy of yours makes me, but I’ll try to go gentler than usual. If you feel any discomfort, you tell me, okay?”

“But I don’t want to ruin the sheets...or the couch!” you argued knowing the favourite spots of Negan in your room to have sex.

“And you won’t, because we will have sex in the shower. The warm water will help to ease your cramps and wash away the blood. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

You contemplated his words for a few seconds. His eyes showed a mixture of need and affection. He genuinely wanted you, no matter what, and the realisation felt like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulder.

“Okay, I’m out of excuses,” you admitted finally with a lopsided smile.

“Thank-fucking-God,” Negan breathed. “The tent in my pants is killing me already.”

He cupped your cheek and crashed his lips on yours devouring them in a heated kiss.

“Then let me do something about that, Daddy,” you murmured against his mouth and lowered your hand to his fly intent on following up on your promise right away, but Negan stopped you by grabbing your hands before you could pull down the zipper.

“Uh-oh. Not so fast, little one. Didn’t you forget something?”

You looked at him quizzically.

“What do you mean, Daddy?”

“You disobeyed my order on what to wear and tried to turn me down because you were too shy to communicate with me. That’s two strikes already, and I have been in your room for only ten minutes. You know that I cannot let something like that slide. I am your husband, and there are no secrets you can keep from me. Understood?”

You nodded obediently.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it fucking won’t because I will make sure you remember it after tonight,” Negan affirmed with an evil grin. “Now let’s get you out of these clothes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nodded submissively.

“Good girl. Hold up your arms.”

Negan put down the handcuffs on the bed sheet and lifted the hem of your hoodie, pulling it over your head along with your t-shirt. He unclasped your bra with his calloused fingers and tossed it behind him. He placed his palms on your shoulders and pushed you down on the mattress, trailing featherlike kisses and soft bites along your neck and collarbone. Reaching your breasts, he cupped each of them in his large hands and massaged them gently. Bending down, he latched his mouth on your perk nipple. He sucked it between his lips greedily, eliciting a long wail from you.

“Do you like this, baby?” he inquired looking up from his ministrations with lust-filled eyes.

“Yes, Daddy. Please don’t stop,” you pleaded unabashedly.

“Good girl, asking so nicely. Tell me what you want Daddy to do.”

The answer would have been for him to taste you but your mind stopped you from saying it out loud. That wasn’t an option now.

“Speak up, little one or I will stop right now,” Negan urged sensing your uncertainty.

“Uhm...I’m sorry, Daddy. I want something that we can’t do now...”

“We can do anything you want, baby girl. Speak!” he insisted pinching your nipple. You yelped at the sensation, complaining about the rough treatment of your oversensitive bud.

“I want you to taste my pussy, Daddy,” you whimpered helplessly.

“Is that right, princess? Then Daddy shall do exactly that.”

Negan continued his way down from your breasts along your stomach. He dipped his tongue into your belly button, and you couldn’t help but giggle uncontrollably. You put your hands on top of his head and tried to push him further down, away from your tickle spot and closer to where you wanted to feel him the most.

“Patience, baby girl. Daddy will give you what you want but only if you are good for him,” Negan warned, and you huffed in protest, letting your hands fall back on the sheet next to your body.

Your reaction didn’t meet his approval, and you felt a slap against your clothed sex, earning a yelp from you at the unexpected punishment.

“Behave, little one or I will not go easy on you. You already have two strikes today, don’t make me give you another one. You know what happens if you get a third strike, right?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I want to hear you say it,” Negan demanded in a low voice.

“You will punish me, and I don’t get to cum.”

“And why is that? Tell me!” he pressed further.

“Because bad girls don’t get to cum,” you replied dutifully.

“That is exactly right, sweetheart,” he hissed with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Stay where you are and do not move.”

He stood up swiftly and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You raised yourself on your elbows, curious about what he was up to, but the faint noises coming from behind the door gave little away. You heard the sound of drawers opening and closing.

You looked around the room and felt your stomach rumble when your eyes settled on the heart-shaped box lying on the nightstand. You peeked over your shoulder, listening for clues on how much time you had before your husband’s return but heard nothing. Your stomach growled again, louder this time, reminding you of the skipped dinner.

You got up from the bed and lifted the lid of the box carefully. The scent of chocolate hit your nostrils and made your mouth water. Making a little dance with your fingers, you contemplated which piece of dessert to choose, and then finally settled on a milk chocolate ball sprinkled with sea salt. You popped the little ball into your mouth and moaned out loud as it melted in your mouth, and the flavour hit your taste buds. The combination of sweet and salty was caressing your tongue like a soft pillow, and you closed your eyes to savour the sensation.

“If I remember correctly, I told you to stay where you were and not to move,” you heard Negan’s cold voice from behind you and spun around on your heel. “I have a feeling that you have just earned your third strike, little one.”

He was standing at the bathroom door, with a black towel in hand and a sinister look on his face. He was not wearing his t-shirt anymore, and the red scarf was missing from around his neck. You couldn’t help but marvel at the salt and pepper curls adorning his toned chest. “Congratulations. Three strikes in half an hour. I think that’s a fucking world record. What a shame that your prize is going to be anything but a reward.”

You fidgeted nervously under his penetrating gaze and were trying to think of an excuse to lessen your punishment, but knew that it was a lost cause.

“I know you like to be punished, but I think that will change quickly if I make your punishment less enjoyable for you and more pleasurable for me,” Negan mused biting his lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I couldn’t help it. My hormones are giving me cravings,” you replied while swallowing down the remnants of the chocolate in your mouth.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” Negan growled dangerously as he started advancing on you. “I see that you need to be taught a lesson. I was going to eat you out first to get you nice and ready for me, but not anymore, baby girl.” When he reached you, he grabbed the box of chocolate from your hand, tossed it on the bed and picked up the handcuffs lying on the sheet. “We are done going slow tonight. Turn around.”

His words made a shiver run down your spine. You turned around and felt him grab your right wrist and pull it behind your back. You heard the click of the handcuffs and felt the cold metal around one wrist then the other. Without further ado, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the bathroom. He pushed the door open and dragged you inside, kicking the door shut after you with a loud bang. The lights were off, but the bathroom was lit by a dozen candles scattered around the sink, their soft glow dancing on your skin as the movement of the door made them flicker. Negan must have lit them while you were outside snacking on the chocolate.

Negan unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing free and hitting his stomach. Droplets of precum were coating his swollen tip, glistening in the dim light. He hooked his fingers in your sweatpants and tugged them down your hips along with your panties, letting them pool on the floor at your feet and then helped you out of them. Once you were standing completely naked in front of him, you crossed your legs, trying to hide the thin blue string peeking out between your legs in shame.

“Tsk, tsk...,” Negan shook his head and showed his hands between your legs to force them apart, pulled out the tampon in one quick motion and tossed it into the trashcan unceremoniously.

You could feel warm blood trickle down your inner thigh, but Negan didn’t seem to care as he stepped into the shower and started the water. Once he was happy with the temperature, he turned around and pulled you inside the cabin after him.

Before you knew it, you were shown against the cold tile wall, his tongue demanding access to your mouth aggressively. The handcuffs pressed into your back painfully, and you tried to hold onto the slippery surface as the warm water from the shower cascaded down on you. Negan’s hands were roaming your body, grabbing, groping and exploring every inch of your naked form greedily. Once his hand reached your pussy, he slipped a finger inside you, the combined wetness of your arousal and blood allowing him easy access. Slowly, he slid a second finger in next to the first and began to scissor them gently. Your pussy clenched around him instinctively, and you groaned out loud at the loss of contact when you felt Negan remove his fingers from your heat.

“Taste yourself!” he ordered, and you looked up at him in shock.

His fingers were covered in blood. In your blood.

Your face grew hot under his scrutiny, and you opened your mouth for him tentatively. He pushed the first finger, then the second past your lips and you sucked both clean keeping your eyes fixed on his. The blood felt sticky and warm and coated the insides of your mouth like a creamy sauce. The metallic taste of it mixed with the lingering flavour of chocolate on your tongue, and you would have been lying if you had said it was unpleasant. The knowledge of tasting your blood was oddly bizarre and yet there was something titillating about the forbidden nature of it as well as the way your husband was making you do this.

Negan was eyeing you intently as if he could hear your inner thoughts and laughed darkly upon seeing you lick your bloodstained lips with illicit pleasure.

“Give me a taste, too,” he panted with hooded eyes and slammed his mouth down onto yours, lapping up the residual blood from your lips in a sloppy kiss. “Fucking delicious,” he purred under his breath and turned you around, shoving you up against the wall.

He trailed his finger down your spine from your neck to your lower back making you shiver despite the warmth of the water pouring over your body. The walls of the shower cabin were now misty from the steam that had accumulated inside the bathroom. Not being able to wait any longer, he finally entered you from behind with a sharp thrust. He kept his word and dictated a fast rhythm right away, not giving you time to adjust to him. While you were more sensitive than unusual, the slight discomfort was soon replaced by the sheer pleasure of him hitting your G-spot with the tip of his dick. He grabbed your hips with one hand and lowered the other to your clit, rubbing tiny circles on it with his fingers.

"Do you like this, little one?” he rasped in a seductive tone.

You cried out, not being able to form a coherent reply, but this wasn’t enough for Negan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your body up against his chest roughly. Your scalp prickled uncomfortably and you tried in vain to squirm away from him.

“I asked you a question, little one. Do you like this?” he barked at you.

“Yes, Daddy, please fuck me harder!” you heard yourself beg in a pathetic voice.

However, Negan did the complete opposite and slid out halfway, keeping only the tip of his throbbing cock inside you.

“I think not, baby girl. You were a very bad girl earlier and need to be punished.”

You leaned your head back on his shoulder and tried to push yourself back on his cock but were stopped by a sharp slap on your ass. Mewling in pain you tried to wiggle away from his grasp but to no avail, your hands were cuffed, and he was holding you tightly against him.

“Ten counts, little one. This is your punishment. Stay still, or I will double it!” he snarled at you, and you knew resistance was futile. You had no choice but to accept your punishment. Closing your eyes, you gave him a quick nod in defeat and acceptance of your fate.

You screamed as he swatted your asscheeks, one after the other with an open hand, his cock still buried halfway inside your pussy. He spanked you hard and mercilessly, pausing after each hit until the tremors in your body subsided and your pitiful sobs faded to quiet whimpers. While his assault on your flesh was painful, you couldn’t ignore the tingling growing in your core. Your ass felt sore and the water prickled against your hot skin. Once Negan was finished, he rubbed your tender backside a few times with his palm to soothe the pain.

“Fucking hell, baby girl,” he gave a quick whistle of admiration at his handiwork. “There isn’t a hotter sight than my handprint on your ass. I should spank you more often.”

A silent cry escaped your lips as you felt him plunge into you in one long, slick thrust, his entire length buried to the hilt. He picked up the speed and started pounding you with no mercy, his balls slapping against your pussy.

“Fuck, baby girl. You are so wet for me and if you saw how my cock looks like now going in and out of your pussy, coated in your blood. It's a fucking vampire dick! Lucille would be so goddamn jealous right now...the vampire bat that she is."

His dirty words were pushing you further towards the edge and your body stiffened in anticipation. Even through the fog of lust you remembered that you were not allowed to cum. You gritted your teeth trying to regain control over your overstimulated senses, but your body was on fire, every fibre in your body craving release.

“Don’t you dare to cum!” Negan snarled at you and smacked your ass hard in warning upon feeling your pussy clamp down on in his dick.

His movements became deeper and more urgent, his fingertips digging into your hips painfully.

“Where do you want me to cum, baby girl? In your pussy? On your ass?” His voice was hoarse and uneven, betraying his composure.

“No, Daddy. In my mouth, please,” you pleaded shamelessly.

“Your wish is my command, little one. Get on your knees,” he husked in your ear and pulled out of your pussy.

You lowered yourself in front of him, the hard floor of the shower pressing against your knees, and opened your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue with a wanton look. Negan palmed his dick, still coated with your cum and blood, and started pumping it furiously. The sound of slapping skin filled the tight space of the shower. After a few hard strokes, he grabbed your hair to angle your head and began shooting streams of hot, thick cum in your mouth and on your chin, painting your tongue white with his release. Shouting a string of curses under his breath, he continued to stroke himself milking the last drops of cum from his cock until he was utterly spent and then smeared it on your lips with the tip languidly.

You watched him in awe, the sight of him losing control in front of your eyes and marking you with his seed making you feel wanted and powerful. You swallowed the load of cum in your mouth hungrily and licked off the drops from your lips and around your mouth before letting the water from the shower wash away the rest of the sticky residue from your face. Sucking his softening dick into your mouth, you licked every drop of your combined juices and blood from him, keeping your gaze on his flushed face. He stared down at you, his pupils blown with desire, caressing your cheek with his thumb softly.

“Such a good girl cleaning up Daddy’s dick so nicely.”

You looked up at him submissively, his praise and sated expression filling your body with a spark of pride and despite your denied orgasm, a sense of utter satisfaction.

An hour later both of you were lying in your bed, tucked under the soft, warm blanket. Negan picked out a little heart-shaped piece from the box of chocolate lying on his stomach and fed it to you as you drew tiny circles on his chest with your pinky.

“Hmmm...this is heavenly. There is nothing better than chocolate,” you moaned out chewing happily on the sweet dessert.

“I have to correct you on that one, baby girl. There is one thing that’s even better than chocolate,” Negan hummed against your ear and popped a small dark chocolate ball into his mouth.

His voice was even lower than usual, the many orders he roared at you earlier making his voice raspy and yet sweet as molasses to your ears.

“Okay, you’re right. Chocolate and sex. It’s a good combination.”

“With a few drops of blood added to it,” Negan grinned thickly.

“As you wish, my Bloody Valentine!” you teased with a wink. “Who knew you could develop an appetite for blood?”

“Only for your blood, baby. Only for your blood,” Negan cooed seductively and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

[lamptracker]

FIC: Third Time’s a Charm

I HAD TO DO IT, GUYS.

Fic: Third Time’s a Charm

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: You’re in love with a klutz, as Tom breaks his nose for the third time.

Warnings: Fluff.

It’s a cool Montreal morning. Tom is on set, for the last day of filming Chaos Walking. You are at the house in Montreal, working on a term paper. You feel lucky that most of your classes this semester were online and you’d made arrangements with your other professors to do your studies while abroad with your boyfriend.

You pause your research to grab a cup of coffee. You’re walking back to your laptop when your phone dings. It’s a text from Harrison:

Haz Osterfield: That’s 3!!!

You stare at your phone cryptically, hoping the text will magically explain itself. When it doesn’t, you shrug and type in your succinct, well-thought-out reply:

(y/n): ?

Almost immediately, you get a text back.

Haz Osterfield: Just come to the trailer on set. They know you’re coming.

(Y/n): This paper isn’t going to write itself Haz

Haz Osterfield: Trust me this is worth it lol

(y/n): You’re being weird dude

Haz Osterfield: Just GET HERE. Ya gotta see this

(y/n) Fine omw

As you’re pulling on jeans and a hoodie, you get a text from Tom’s brother Harry:

Harry Holland: You coming?

(Y/n): What, a girl’s not allowed to put clothes on?

Harry Holland: As much as Tom would like it if you came naked…

(Y/n): Shove it up your ass Harry. Give me like ten minutes.

Harry Holland: lol ok. You’re not going to believe it.

(Y/n): You guys are weirdos today

Harry Holland: We’re weirdos every day

(Y/n): Don’t remind me

You pour your coffee in a travel mug and head out the door to set. You briefly wonder what the heck these guys are up to as you drive. And what did Harrison mean by “3”?

You pull into the lot and head to the security gate, where Harry is waiting for you. “About damn time,” he says.

“Shut up, Harry. Traffic. And coffee. Now, what the hell is going on?”

Harry laughs. “You’ll see. But, go easy on him, okay?”

You scrunch up your nose in confusion. “Why would I...okay.”

Harry leads you to Tom’s trailer, giggling the entire way.

You try not to think about it as you follow him, sipping your coffee.

When you arrive at the trailer, Harry opens the door for you. “You ready?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, Harry.”

There, lying on the couch, is Tom. He has his head propped up by several pillows and has an ice pack covering his face.

Then, it hits you. What the “That’s 3” meant.

“Oh, my God,” you mutter under your breath as you rush over to the couch. “Tom?”

“(y/n), darling!” He exclaims, clearly in pain. “What are you doing here?”

You snort. “Harrison and Harry practically begged me to come. Now, babe...did you break your nose? Again?!”

“Yeah,” comes Tom’s muffled reply. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stupid.”

You just stand there, staring at the poor boy. You are simultaneously shocked and not surprised.

Calamity seems to follow him when it comes time to wrapping movies - the first broken nose at the end of The Lost City of Z. The torn Achilles at the end of Spider-Man: Homecoming. And now… a third broken nose.

Then, with no explanation as to why, you start laughing. Full-on, hysterical, belly-bursting laughter.

“Aww, man!” Tom groans.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you wheeze, “it’s not funny. It’s not at all funny. I’m sorry. It’s not…” but you start laughing again.

Once you catch your breath, you sit down on the couch at Tom’s feet. “I’m really sorry,” you say, gently rubbing a hand up and down his leg. “I’m not laughing at you. I promise, okay? It’s the situation. And how utterly ridiculous this is. Who breaks their nose three times and isn’t, like, a hockey player or something? How do you keep doing this?”

“I don’t know. But I know it freaking hurts.” He carefully sits up. “Want to see how hideous I am now?”

“You’re not hideous, Tommy, I promise.”

Tom sighs and removes the ice pack. His entire forehead is bruised (although there is a chance that’s just makeup), and there’s one cut near his right eye and another on the bridge of his slightly crooked nose.

Holy crap, you think to yourself. He’s still hot. How does he DO that?!

“How do you do that?” You ask.

“Do what?”

You smile. “You look better with a thrice-broken nose than I do with a never-broken one. Are you a shapeshifter or something?”

Tom looks at you, confused. “You don’t think I’m hideous?”

“I think you’re still incredibly gorgeous.” You softly kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. Can I get you anything?”

“Some Tylenol and a cup of coffee would be good. Oh, and I forgive you.” He smiles at you. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Tom.” You pat his knee and start to get up, but Tom grabs your hand before you can step away.

“Actually… make Harry and Harrison get that. Right now, all I want is you.”

“But, Tom. I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already are.”

Tom, despite the pain he’s in, smiles at you. “Darlin’, it’ll be worth it. Now go tell the guys to get me my stuff and come back here and kiss me.”

You nod, run to the trailer door, and open it slightly as you poke your head out.

“Tom needs you two losers to get him some Tylenol and coffee,” you shout to the boys, who are looking at something on Harry’s phone.

“Starbucks!” Tom shouts from the couch. “Venti White chocolate mocha, no whip.”

You nod at Tom and stick your head back out. “Starbucks. Venti White chocolate mocha, no whip, make that two. Now get goin’.”

“Why do we have to do it?” Harry grouses.

“Because,” you reply with a smirk.

Harrison groans. “I’ll drive. Come on.”

As the boys make their way to the car, you close the trailer door and walk back to the couch.

“Now,” Tom says as he takes your hand again, “where were we?”

“I think we were right...here.” You sit down, lean over and gently press a kiss to his lips, being careful to avoid his nose.

“Mmm. That helps me feel better,�� Tom says between kisses. “I’m kind of tired, had a long morning obviously. Let’s just take a nap together, yeah?”

You smile at him. “Of course.” You stand up briefly so he can stretch out on the couch; after he’s settled, you lay down with him. You rest your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his waist as he folds you into his arms.

“I’m sorry you broke your nose again,” you say as he cards his fingers through your hair.

“Me too. But thanks for coming to see me.” He kisses the top of your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Between the steady rhythms of his breathing and heartbeat, and his all-encompassing warmth, you’re asleep in minutes; he’s not far behind.

Harry and Harrison return about a half-hour after you sent them away, with coffee and Tylenol. They smile at each other when they find you and Tom asleep on the couch.

“Okay, okay. They’re kind of cute,” Harrison says.

“Yeah.” Harry grabs his camera and snaps a picture of the two of you. “Now let’s let ‘em nap, yeah? He’s probably tired from everything that happened today and I know (y/n) is stressed out over her paper.”

“That we dragged her away from.”

“That you dragged her away from.”

“You made me.”

The two of them bicker quietly as they leave the trailer.

You briefly wake up for a moment, blinking as you look around the trailer. You can’t help but think about how lucky you truly are, despite the fact that you’re in love with a total klutz. You sigh contentedly and close your eyes again, relishing being in Tom’s arms.

[mysurveys]

Random Qs

Survey #7 on the Countdown to 2019!

Since my last survey I’ve been sick, busy, lazy... It’s been a long time, but I felt up to doing another right now. I’m not promising any more as a follow up to this tonight, though. I’ve been too into anime lately.

Air Conditioning - At what level or temperature is it on today?

I don't know exactly. It's usually on 68-70, though.

Pet - Where does your pet sleep at night?

Our dog Chloe sleeps on my parents' bed and my cats will be in the house or outside at night.

Laptop - Is it in your lap, on the table, or somewhere else and is it charging?

It's on a table in our living room and it's charging.

Smartphone - Who do you only use your smartphone to talk to without texting or otherwise?

I still don't own or want a smartphone. It’s not something I require because I hate talking on the phone and I'm not interested in texting.

If I go out then I like being unplugged so I can live my life. Being obsessed with some kind of tech is a codependency I really don't need.

Pillows - How many pillows do you actually use while sleeping, not just on your bed?

I'll use two for sleeping every night.

Candles - What's your favorite scent that you own and how often do you light it?

I prefer LED tealights, especially since I have cats. Scented items usually bother me too. I'm allergic to a lot of things.

Cigarettes - Who in your house smokes?

My father used to smoke off our property when he was stressed, but he hasn't done that in years to my knowledge.

My mother and I would never tolerate someone smoking in our house. That shit can kill you, including secondhand smoke.

Couch - How many people could sit comfortably on it?

We only have a love-seat in our living room. My parents and I only have recliners in the den. Mine is extra-spacious.

Glasses - Who wears glasses in your house and are they near or farsighted?

I wear glasses daily because I'm nearsighted and I can't wear contacts. Both of my parents will sometimes use cheap reading glasses, though. They're over 65 now, so their vision isn't as good as it used to be.

Toothpaste - What brand do you like best?

I have to use Sensodyne. My teeth are sensitive to hot, cold and sweet items. My whole body is hypersensitive.

Pencils - Do you prefer using regular or mechanical pencils?

I'd rather just use a pen, but I'll use either of those if they're available.

Coffee Mug - What kind of hot beverage do you drink the most?

I’ll mostly drink coffees that I make at home, although I'll drink ryokucha (green tea) too.

Television - What's your favorite television channel and what're the best shows on it?

My go-to channels are Investigation Discovery and The Weather Channel lately. I'm partial to A Crime To Remember and Evil Lives Here on ID right now, but TWC is something I watch no matter what's on.

The actual weather reports in the morning during AMHQ are really soothing to me and I like So You Think You’d Survive? and SOS: How To Survive.

Chap-stick - Do you get chapped lips a lot, and when was the last time you had them?

I don't often get chapped lips, but it occasionally happens in the winter. It happened sometime during the winter, probably before the new year.

Musical Instrument - What instrument is your favorite and what's your favorite song on it?

If I'm going to listen to only one instrument then I'd choose the ocarina. I like the drums, guitar, piano, harp. It's still better for music to be played with multiple instruments, though.

Trashcan - Whose responsibility is it to take out the trash at your house?

My father often does it, but sometimes I'll do it for him.

Plants - What kind of plants do you have in your house and how often are they watered?

We don't keep any plants.

Hair Dryer - Who in your family has the longest hair and how long is it?

My parents have very short hair, so mine is the longest. It's a bit passed my shoulders right now.

Chocolate - What kind is better, milk, dark or white?

I prefer white, but I'll also eat dark chocolate sometimes. My faves are Hershey's Cookies & Creme Drops if I'm having a real treat, or just the sugar-free Russell Stover Dark Chocolate Medallions.

Shoes - The last time you went out, what shoes did you wear?

My Wolverine hiking shoes. They're the best I've ever owned. I like sturdy footwear that encompasses my feet.

DVD Player - What do you have more of, VHS tapes or DVDs?

I think I tossed out all my personal VHS tapes years ago. I mostly have DVDS, but I’ve got some Blu-Ray discs too

Insects - When you find an unwanted insect inside of your house, do you kill it, take it outside, or leave it alone?

If it's just an insect then I prefer to put it outside if it doesn't have a stinger. If I find a lizard then I'm the same way.

But if I spot a spider, I'm going to try killing it because those can be dangerous. I can't really spot the difference, so it's better to just be safe.

Spiders are specifically arachnids and not insects, though. I'm not lumping them together, but some people call them "bugs" just because the word evokes the image of a pest that bugs them.

Obviously lizards are reptiles, but they're common here. That's why I had to mention them too. They often get into our house through the garage.

Razor - What are all the areas of your body that you shave?

I don't constantly shave, but I'll take the hair off my legs, arms and armpits if I feel like it. I won’t use razors, though.

Webcam - When you go on webcam, who do you chat with the most and do you use any specific sites or programs?

I don't use my webcam.

Refrigerator & Freezer - Does yours have an automatic ice cube maker, and do you prefer cubed or crushed ice?

We don't need one of those and we only use cubed ice. It's just that we rarely use ice at all.

Sunscreen - What SPF do you use?

I haven't used sunscreen in a long time, but if I do go outside for a while then I tend to stay in the shade. I burn so easily and I'm pretty allergic to a lot of things outside too.

It's been a big problem up until recently, but I've finally found a good allergy doctor now. Maybe I can go outside more soon.

Sibling - Do you get along with your siblings, and if you have more than one then which are you closest to?

I'm an only child.

Cereal - What kind of cereal is in your house right now, is it your favorite and if not then what is?

I think there's just some corn flakes. My fave is Cinnamon Toast Crunch even though I rarely eat that or any cereal.

Pain Relievers - What kind of pain reliever do you use when you have a headache?

We have some off-brand Tylenol with pain reliever. It's the only thing that really works, but if it's an allergy headache then I'll take one of those and a sinus pill of some kind as a decongestant.

Monopoly - When you play Monopoly, what game piece do you choose?

I haven't played in so long, but I used to pick the thimble or the dog the most. It’s been ages and I want to play again.

Now I’ve bought the Mario version since I’ve been having game nights with my mother, Miss Cindy and cousin Julie. We haven’t played it yet, though.

It’s got Mario, Peach, Yoshi and Donkey Kong. My preference would be Peach out of those followed closely by Yoshi, although you can buy others.

I would certainly love a Bowser, but my other faves from what’s available right now are the Boo, Tanooki Mario and Luigi figures. I’d say my number one is really the Boo figure, though. It’s my fave Mario baddie!

Bookshelf - What books, if any, have you read more than once?

I tend not to revisit books. I'm also much more fond of nonfiction.

Card Deck - What's your favorite card game?

The only one I really enjoy is Uno and I've got the Mario edition too.

Umbrella - Do you mind walking in the rain without one?

I really don't mind getting wet most of the time.

Mood Ring - What mood are you in right now?

I'm mostly good despite being pretty stiff since I woke up that way.

Hoodie - Do you prefer the kind with or without the zipper?

I'm good with zips and I like them more than pullovers.

Calendar - What's the picture on your calendar for this month?

The one in our kitchen is a Thomas Kinkade calendar. It's just some spring scene for May right now.

Pajamas - What do you usually wear to sleep in and are you comfortable falling asleep in jeans?

I would hate sleeping in jeans. My usual outfits are PJs, nightgowns or just a tee if it's hot out.

Backpack - Are you in school this year and if so, what grade are you in?

I'm turning 32 later this month, thanks.

Alarm Clock - What time do you have to get up tomorrow morning?

I don't have a specific time to be up, especially since it’s Saturday, and it's currently 12:55 AM too. I might go to bed in the morning.

Jewelry Box - What's your most expensive piece of jewelry, and if it was a gift then who got it for you?

It might be a heart charm necklace I got in a shop on the Kemah Boardwalk here in Texas near Galveston. I’m not really sure, though. It was something I wanted for my birthday from my parents.

Game Console - What's your favorite video game to play by yourself?

Animal Crossing! Any of the main ones, but not the offshoots.

I didn’t care to try out Happy Home Designer and Amiibo Festival. In fact, I never purchased the shitty Wii U system at all. I could’ve played HHD, but it looked lame too. No one I know liked it either.

Mirror - How many times a day do you tend to look in the mirror?

I don't look in mirrors all that often, but I'm not averse to them.

Basement - Is your basement used just for storage, or is it used as another room?

We don't have basements here.

Sports Jersey - What professional teams do you and your family root for?

No one in my immediate family is a big sports fan these days.

Dictionary - What was the last new word you learned and what does it mean?

I kind of rediscovered the word "grimoire" because of the Black Clover anime along with a lot of words based on the character names.

I think the last brand-new one was the name for Licht which means "light" even though there are several I've learned about now.

[frangipanidownunder]

Do you take prompts? If so, could you write something where Mulder and Scully get into a heated argument. Mulder takes it to far and says some hurtful things, but only realizes he's hurt Her when he notices her crying, then tries to make up with her. Possibly set on the run, after season 9. Thank you.

She doesn’t recall the name of the town. Themain strip is a carbon copy of the last, the bakery, the hairdresser, thepharmacy, the mini mart. Even the church is a facsimile. She has said herprayers in motel rooms, Walmart, gas stations and public toilets. She doesn’teven remember what she’s praying for, but it’s a comforting habit.

              Sheused to think that Mulder was a comforting habit but being in his shadow 24/7is so entirely different to the electric hold he had over her during their timeon the X Files. She feels the distance like lifetimes, centuries, millennia.They had a partnership, a quest, a crusade for justice. Back in the day. Now,they have nothing but fear to motivate them. And it’s the wrong kind of fear.It’s the fear borne of fatigue and desperation, not borne of justice goneastray.

              Thebag digs into her arm. She’s lost weight, despite the junk food diet, the sodaand burgers, the chocolate bars for breakfast, the soggy pizza at midnight. She’sworried about Mulder’s health. He’s been fighting a chest infection, coughingall night for days. He wants to leave tonight but she told him earlier shewouldn’t stand for him to sit in a car for hours, dehydrating and sick. Shedoesn’t want to get sick. She’s already bone-tired and headachy. She just wantsto feel the sun on her face, warm her soul, concentrate on the little thingsthat she wants to remember. Her mother’s voice, Skinner’s frustrated sigh, theLone Gunmen’s clutter, the fern in her apartment that tumbled over the side of herdresser and filled her peripheral vision with the green of life as she cooked.She misses cooking, she misses chopping onion and garlic, slicing tomato,nibbling grated carrot. She misses Mulder’s smile as he uncorks a red and poursher a ridiculously large glass. She misses the scent of her newborn’s head, hiswispy hair tickling his chin as she rocked him.

She misses William.

The playground is on the corner block oppositetheir motel. She hears the squeal of laughter, the frantic barking of a dog,the thwump of a ball against a foot. She finds herself at the boundary,watching life unfold. She feels the press of sun on top of her head. Her hairis dark now and cut short so that she does a double-take when she chances aglance in a mirror. It’s often too hard to look. Because if she does, she seesthe past and the lies and the shadows of guilt that shroud her.

              Asmall child toddles up to her, chasing a beach ball that has tumbled to herfeet. She squats, letting the bag rest on the floor. The child is wearing abright yellow sundress, a floppy pink hat, white sneakers with two Velcro strapsand a beaming smile across her sun-red face. She giggles as the ball spins on agust of wind. Scully traps it with one hand and the child presses her fistsagainst either side, lifting it up above her head in triumph.

              “Emmy,come on. Leave the lady alone.” A flustered young woman rushes over and takesthe child by the elbow.

              “Ball,mama.”

              “It’sokay,” Scully says, standing up and feeling the strain in her back. “She wasjust playing.”

              Thewoman smiles an apology and takes the child away. Scully watches them.

              “Scully?”

              Shehears his voice and swings around slowly. “It’s so warm, Mulder,” she saysgently. “I needed to feel the sun today.”

              Shereaches out a hand to him, but his arms remain by his side. He looks over herhead and exhales. “What do you think you’re doing, Scully?”

              Thechild’s laughter bubbles up on the breeze. She follows the sound and shieldsher eyes from the glare of the sun.

              “You’vebeen gone too long.” His voice is low, menacing.

              Shesays nothing, looking out at the field in front of her. She has cut herself offfrom everything and she is not going to cut short this afternoon in the sun.

              “Weneed to go,” he says, taking her arm.

She shrugs him off.

“Scully,” he hisses, “let’sgo.”

“You go, Mulder,” she says. “I’llbe a few minutes. Give me this.”

His shadow stretches overher but she turns back and sees the beach ball flying high towards them. The littlegirl tumbles over to them, following its trajectory. She watches as it bouncesand ends up at Mulder’s feet. He sucks in a breath and his sleeve of his teeshirt flap in the stiff breeze. She knows he would love nothing better than topick up the ball and toss it back to the child. Instead, he puts his hands onhis hips and stares out to the middle distance.

“Ball,” the child says. “Meball.”

Scully nods and bends down,collecting the ball and giving it to her. “Here’s your ball, Emmy.”

Mulder sighs and picks upthe shopping bag in one hand. With his other he wraps it around her shoulder. “We’regoing, Scully,” he says in to her ear. “Now.”

 The room is as dry as she remembers. His voiceis as raspy. “Emmy?”

“She’s a child, Mulder. Shewon’t remember me.”

He coughs. “We agreed,Scully.”

She pours him some water. “Youagreed, Mulder. You laid down the law. You’ve been telling me what to do sincewe left. I haven’t questioned you, I haven’t complained. But today, I justneeded to feel the sun and remember what life should be like.”

He doesn’t take the water.His shoulders are hunched. His breathing is noisy. His cheeks are flushed. Heis running a temperature. She looks in her handbag for Tylenol. She can’t findit.

“Scully,” he says, “you knowthe risks. I can’t believe you’d put us in jeopardy for a child and a fucking beachball.”

“It was more than just afucking beach ball, Mulder. And you know it.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you’dseen your mother in that park, Scully. You cannot disappear for hours at a timewithout letting me know.”

She clenches her fists,digging the nails into the pliant skin of her palms. The pain is good, it’slife. “You don’t own me, Mulder. I make my own decisions.”

His eyes spark. “I know allabout your decisions, Scully.”

She tries not to gasp butthe sound escapes her lips anyway. Hot tears sting her eyes.

He throws the bag on the bedand contents scatter across the beige coverlet. Sunflower seeds, shavinglotion, hair dye, Tylenol and tampons.

She looks at him and hethrows his head back, rubbing his cheeks with quivering hands. “I’m sorry,Scully. I didn’t mean…”

She leans down and picks up theTylenol, throwing him a blister pack. “Take two with water and get into bed,Mulder.” She takes the tampons and feels the edges of the box dig into herhand. “I need a shower.”