#but passed the point of exhaustion to where im stuck

[omri-kilah]

[aheeheemwhimper]

if i could go back in time and tell myself anything it would be that one day i'm gonna be really fucking efficient at getting through panic attacks

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Thirty)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Mig is rutting, workplace sex, fear kink, breeding kink, intercrural sex, copious sexual fluids, oral sex, tongue play, hormone scenting, unresolved sexual tension.

Word count: 11,000 Notes: IM BACK BUT ALSO THIS IS A LONG ONE LMAO IM SORRY

Mig stuck to his word as Autumn continued to roll in.

You would be his, no matter what.

The days passed and soon Nueva York was a beautiful patchwork of dull oranges and reds, with the upper city parks creating a gorgeous spread of burnt amber grass beneath the cold sun. Mig’s own universe went much the same way, with his forest home going from a bright evergreen to a spread of dark greens and slowly melting auburn shades as the trees lost their hue. You woke every day in his nest to a new blanket of leaves coating your front door, each load bigger than the last, and soon it was clear that winter was approaching.

You were getting chillier in the mornings, even with Mig’s huge, fluffy body at your side. More and more you were relegated to sleeping beneath his folded form like a baby bird beneath its watchful parent, and at a certain point the bed was so covered in silk blankets it looked almost like a mountain.

More of your stuff from your apartment made its way in too. Your clothes, your toothbrush, your kitchen utensils, your bathroom supplies.

It was a strange mismatch. The nest was rustic, with Mig’s makeshift tools and handspun tapestries, which made all of your modern appliances look out of place. There was nothing more jarring than a portable electric toothbrush sitting next to a hand-carved wooden basin over a bamboo drip, which was your version of a sink, or your phone sitting next to the firepit he used to boil water.

It was strange, yes, but welcome. It really was beginning to feel like home.

It was just that, with home, came pressure.

Time was passing, and it was passing fast. In those sweet early months with Mig it’d felt like you had all the time in the world, but the world was proving that wrong.

You had to find a solution to your universal separation, a way to prove that you and Mig could safely cohabitate forever, and potentially have a family if you desired that in the future. If you couldn’t prove it was safe, the society couldn’t sanction it any further. They couldn’t risk anything that might cause multiverse instability.

That left only two outcomes to this relationship, but in Mig’s mind, there was only one outcome he was willing to accept, and that was success. He was beyond the curious, testing phase of the relationship, the tepid exploration of lust and companionship.

He was in love. He was madly, inescapably in love with you, and he would not let you go.

This left him in a state of feverish devotion to his work, and he spent almost all his free time in Miguel’s labs working out the calculations to a cross-universe serum. At first, he tried to bring you with him, since he missed you far too much, but that ended poorly. He felt too bad making you stay up in Miguel’s office, where you’d inevitably fall asleep from exhaustion and Miguel would have to cover you in a blanket.

So instead he started doing calculations late into the night in the nest while you slept beside him. He even started doing calculations in his sleep. You’d wake to find wall after wall covered in markings you couldn’t comprehend.

The only other hiccup in his way was that he was also totally devoted to helping Micaela and Gabriel. Much of his and Miguel’s previous work had been put to the side to focus on her, using their joint background in genetics to find a cure for her ailment.

Miguel was obviously far more concerned with protecting the existing Micaela than with securing Mig’s future, and while it frustrated you both you couldn’t exactly blame him. Micaela did come first, and he was right to prioritize her, but the uncertainty in your future was becoming a strain.

Mig wanted to start living again, to hope again. He wanted to sleep beside you knowing that you were his, forever and always, and that he wasn’t a doomed abomination. He wanted to know you’d be with him until the end.

No more lonely wailing in the woods. No more singing for a person who would never come.

He wanted to live. He wanted you. He wanted his family.

But the longer their work took, the less certain it felt. Every little re-calculation felt like a punch to the gut, and every mission or postponement felt like a weight on his back.

But you can’t stay in limbo forever.

Closure had to come eventually, one way or another.

…

‘Come on, come on…’

You struggled not to impatiently tap your foot as you peered around the line ahead. You had to crane your neck to see over the 10 or so other spiders all idly waiting for their turn at the counter.

You were waiting in line at the HQ cafeteria to get lunch for you, Miguel and Mig, something you did almost every day now as an unusual little trio. The boys, as you called them, were utterly fixated on their dual projects, and while you weren’t much use scientifically you were the one little lifeline they had left to sanity and stability.

If left to their own devices they’d science themselves into husks. This left you the task of keeping them grounded, keeping them fed, and slapping them back into reality when need be.

It was slightly grating to be around two supergeniuses all the time. Mig was a sweetheart as always, and while he could be a little annoying when he talked to you like a child, he was never condescending or mean. Miguel, on the other hand, was very condescending. He had a need to explain, a need to teach, but he had the patience of a mouse and a tendency to get sassy if you ever got anything wrong.

However, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy your time with the two. Now Miguel had cooled down he really did seem to be making a difference in his attitude, especially after meeting Gabriel and Micaela. He was short-tempered and stressed, and that would probably never change, but there was an unspoken gentleness to his attitude now. It was almost, protective.

And Mig…

Your face grew warm at the thought of him. His smile. His soft-spoken compliments. His little abdomen wriggles. His big, open, honest eyes, peering down at you as they practically dripped with affection.

Your mind wandered to his breath on your neck in the morning, when he’d blow your hair aside to kiss your forehead. That warmth grew exponentially.

Mig was always perfect. Not literally, but to you… Yes. He was perfect.

‘Hey!’

You jumped in place as someone tapped your shoulder. You spun back and forth only to realize that the line had moved three spaces ahead, and you’d been too lost in your little daydream to notice. The spiders behind you did not look impressed.

‘Sorry! Shit—just a second.’

You stammered an apology and hurried forward, trying to ignore the curious stares you get. The morbid interest in Mig’s lover never seemed to go away.

You stayed hyper-vigilant as you waited to finally reach the front of the cafeteria. You’d replayed asking for your order so many times that it practically tumbled from your lips when you reached the server, making you appear like some kind of empanada-loving robot.

As you made your way back to the office you couldn’t help but pause to admire the new décor.

The whole building was covered in dainty, slightly tacky Halloween objects, coating the walls from top to bottom. It was all in place for the Halloween party tomorrow. There were skrunkly little paper spiders hanging from the high beams, orange cut-outs of cats and pumpkins plastered to the wall.

It was almost painfully twee, but you kind of loved it. It felt authentically true to form for this place. You also knew Miguel had refused to spend any more than the absolute bare minimum on decorations out of spite, since he hated the idea of doing this in the first place. Hosting events and being considerate of members' well-being was one thing, but being drawn out of work to wear costumes was, ironically, not his forte.

Unfortunately, despite being the de-facto leader, he’d been outvoted by the other elites, along with every other Spider in the society. You’d been subjected to his rambling about this for almost a week. Luckily, he didn’t know you’d also voted to have the party.

You prodded a little cheap plastic bat that was hanging from the ceiling as you hopped from the beams into the main corridor before Miguel’s office.

You were quick as you hurried down the same familiar route; passed the Spiders crowding the hall, passed the rudimentary go-home machine, and down the darkened empty corridor filled with Miguel’s old suits and gadgets.

As you approached the door you were hit by the smell of metal and the low hum of a machine. It vibrated through your bones in the most eerie way, causing the walls around you to jitter as if moving.

You instinctively slowed down.

Shit, they were in the middle of running their experiments again.

You crept up to the entrance to Miguel’s office and carefully nudged the door aside, being careful not to dip in any further. You didn’t want to startle them.

‘Pressure at 53%’

Lyla’s voice floated out from beneath the eerie hum as you peeked around the doorway. The office was usually dark, awash with cold navy light and the dull orange glow of Miguel’s monitors, but right now it was alight with an almost supernatural glow emanating from its center. It cast odd shadows across the walls and floors, like hands sneaking up to grasp you.

‘Lyla! Speed it up.’

‘Pressure at 73%. I’m going as fast as I can!’

That was Miguel’s voice, you thought. It was nearly identical to Mig’s but you knew them both well enough now to pick them apart. You peered a little further into the room.

‘Qué chingada… Come on.’

Mig hissed a few more curses under his breath as his abdomen rustled.  

He’d bent his front legs like a horse so he could grasp the computer with both hands, and he was right on the verge of physically shaking it. Every

He was so close, so damn close. He’d gotten the formula down to a predicted 3% success rate, and if he could just get a few more test runs in, he’d have it. He’d have you.

‘Alright! Are you ready?’

Miguel called down to Mig from his floating office. He had to about halfway in the air, allowing him to look down on Mig as he ran some sort of experiment.

You could see the enormous table they were always huddled around, covered in glass jars and holographic screens all flashing with a million numbers at once. As you sank against the door frame, you noticed that the crackling was getting louder.

‘Pressure at 89%. Almost there.’

You could see something starting to spin on the table, creating a whirring noise akin to a helicopter’s blades. The sound was triggering every instinct in your body to run, to hide, and you had to fight yourself just to continue watching.

‘Hold it steady!’

‘I’m holding steady.’

The light expanded until you were forced to squint and pull away, hiding yourself behind the door. The sound was unbearably loud, the whirring grating on your ears as the light grew brighter and brighter.

‘Pressure at 98%...’

‘99%’

‘100%!’

And then—

A crackle filled the room and the light dimmed in a single split second, leaving the room in darkness. You had to wipe your eyes to adjust to the dimness. Everything smelled like hot metal, and you could see smoke drifting up into the rafters of the office.

‘Serum stability at 99%’ Lyla’s voice called out, followed by a sharp bark of a growl.

‘ARGH!’

Mig pulled back and kicked one of the loose chairs right into the wall, almost totally obliterating it with the faintest display of aggression. ‘¡Jueputa! Chingada Madre!’

As the low whirring of the machine dulled, he began to pace, his spider legs scuttling back and forth. His abdomen was shaking dangerously, that much you could see. He had his head in his hands and seemed to be trying his hardest to not lose his temper any further.

You felt your heart sink a little in your chest at the sight.

Miguel was cursing beneath his breath as he put out the fire. ‘God damn it… Lyla, what keeps going wrong?!’

‘It’s just routine checks, Miguel. It’s totally normal.’ 

‘We’ve been stuck at 99% for a week!’ Miguel barked back, ignoring Lyla’s slightly snarky tone.

‘99% is good! That’s better odds than your watch had when you tried it out’ she argued back. You could faintly see her hologram floating in the air beside them, pacing back and forth across the open air. Miguel bitterly waved his hand through her digital form.

‘Yeah, and I was stupid to do so. I can’t approve it until it's 100%.’

‘Maybe the calculations are off’ Mig murmured to himself. You saw him drop back down to the computer again, grasping at its mass like it was a person who he could shake sense into.

‘My calculations aren’t off!’ Miguel snapped back in a slightly harsher tone. ‘I know what I’m doing!’

You could see the tension rising. They’d just keep getting more and more irritable if they remained fixated on their work. You decided now was the time to step in.

With a huff you pushed the office door aside and bellowed towards them. ‘Hey! Come on guys, break time!’

The sound of you voice drew Mig to snap and turn, a motion so inhumanly fast he nearly wrenched the entire computer apart from with his hands. Miguel had to step in and shove him off just to salvage it.

‘¡Tonto! Ah, ten cuidado’ Miguel snapped under his breath, though Mig heard none of it. He didn’t even respond when Miguel elbowed him away.

He was fixed on you, watching you run down the corridor towards him. The way you smiled, the way you bounced as you sped up. He couldn’t stop his abdomen rustling and vibrating with a deep, profound sense of joy. Miguel noticed that too and promptly rolled his eyes.

‘Miggy!’

You squeaked and jumped up into his arms, with the enormous spider catching you with instinctive prowess. He drew you up to his chest and held you like a large cat.

‘Mi tesoro’ he purred. ‘I missed you.’

‘They were gone for 15 minutes’ Miguel sarcastically replied.

‘I know’ Mig replied, his big crimson eyes still fixed on you. He kept tilting his head to get a better angle of your face, deliberately staring until you got flustered and tried to look away. You could feel him nosing at your hands as you covered yourself. Your quiet giggling was almost addictive to him.

‘It was still too long…’ Mig whispered against your fingers. ‘Too long…’

‘Still too long— Alright! Come on, computers finished that round. We can break.’ Miguel grunted and pushed the computer aside as he stood, his hands outstretched. ‘Can I eat, then? Or did you forget about me?’

You pulled back your hands and peered down at Miguel. ‘Forget? What? I wouldn’t forget about you.’

‘Ahuh. What about—’

‘Oh my god—I forgot your lunch order ONE time!’ you cried, cutting him off before he could bring up the same story he always brought up. Despite himself, Miguel’s lips did tilt into a slight smile.

‘Exactly. Once. And you could do it again’ he replied in a slightly snarkier tone. You huffed and threw his box of empanadas at his chest, which he caught mid-air with his webs.

‘You went—you were on a mission twice—’

‘Ahuh, ahuh—’

‘So, I had to remember to NOT get your order—’

‘Yep, keep digging that grave—’

‘I had to remember to NOT get your order the second time, because you sent that memo saying it was wasteful to leave your food, and then the third time you didn’t DIRECTLY tell me you wouldn’t be on a mission, so I didn’t have it there! I am not in the wrong!’

You burnt your throat out while rambling off your excuse. Miguel just kept trying to hide his growing smile of endearment as he webbed his way up to his floating desk, leaving you and Mig to sit beneath him.

‘It’s not my job to babysit you. If you can’t check the schedule that’s something for you to fix, not me. Consider it… character building’ Miguel replied smoothly.

‘Next time I won’t get it deliberately’ you huffed, before reaching into the bag and giving Mig his order. He purred as he took it. ‘At least you’re grateful, Miggy’ you mumbled, which caused him to purr even louder.

‘Always, arañita.’

As Mig folded his legs and settled down on the floor you sat at the front of his abdomen, snuggling into his fur with your meal resting on your folded legs. You could hear Miguel grunting with barely suppressed pleasure as he started eating above you.

Mig paused then as his watch buzzed. He glanced down and awkwardly tapped it at with his huge claws until he finally got it to recognize his touch.

‘Mm? It is—Oh!’

Mig’s face lit up into a smile as a hologram flashed up from his watch, revealing a line of text and a blurry picture. You tilted your head out of curiosity.

‘Hm? What's up?’

‘It’s ah- Gabriel. I’ve been re-learning how to text so that we may, converse, more easily, and he has sent me a picture of Micaela.’ Mig sounded so proud as he spoke, and his eyes as they flitted over the picture were deeply endeared. It filled you with joy to see him looking so comfortable.

‘Oh! That’s nice, that’s good. I’m glad you’re properly keeping in touch now. What’d he say?’

‘Mm! Well, last night he was telling me about how bad the hospital food is. I offered to send him some of my deer meat, which he seemed to find humorous, and today he has sent me a picture of his mates cooking and—’

‘They don’t use mate, Mig, that’s his wife’ Miguel added.

‘Wife. Yes. I forget… Ah, his mate- wife¸ gave him food to sneak into the hospital, and he has sent me a picture of him eating it with Micaelita.’

He glanced at the photo for the second time as he spoke, and the sight caused him to purr all over again. He’d only known his baby niece for a few months now, but he truly loved that little girl. He had an outlet at last for all his pent-up paternal instinct, and seeing her happy brought him so much joy.

‘How is the um- I mean I guess, sensitive subject to bring up, but… How is the serum going?’ you asked.

‘Well, Micaela’s stuff is almost fully done’ Miguel replied. Mig was too busy trying to catch an unseemly long bit of cheese now dangling between his mouth and his empanada to speak, so his variant took over with a slightly exasperated sigh.

‘Luckily, we buckled down and, Lyla did a lot of the work. Scanning the multiverse for somewhere with more advanced medicine was pretty easy, unfortunately the place we found with the right equipment does not have a Spider-man in it for easy contact.’

‘Did you need to go there to get it, though?’ you asked. You were trying to listen while also teasingly nipping in to steal from Mig’s string of cheese, something he found both adorable and aggravating.

‘Luckily again for us, uh—no. Not really. We scanned a few computers and managed to replicate it here’ Miguel explained. ‘Micaela should be just fine.’

‘Yes! But, it means we’re behind on the solution for us’ Mig said as he finally swallowed his food. ‘Which, we are trying to resolve, right?’

‘Jess is getting antsy’ Miguel remarked, more to himself than to you or Mig. He was picking at his own empanada bit by bit, taking off little chunks which he then threw into his mouth and slowly chewed between his fangs. He chewed his food like nicotine gum, as if he was in constant deep thought. ‘Everyone is. Especially with the anomalies getting worse.’

‘I mean… that’s not, our fault, right?’ you said.

Miguel didn’t reply for a moment. He stared into the distance before double-taking at you, almost as if taken by surprise. ‘What? No. No, it’s your fault. It’s… we’re not sure. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But, it’s not you.’

‘Oh… Good.’ You weren’t sure you believed him, but you also weren’t willing to press the issue. ‘But, um—I mean regardless it’ll be okay, right? We’re, getting close?’

To your relief, Miguel did nod as he swallowed his last bite of empanada. ‘Mhm. Mm… Yeah. I think it should be finished soon, if we can just complete the last checks.’

‘Checks?’

‘The stabilization test-runs’ Mig said. He’d finally finished his meal as was now paying very close attention to you, ensuring you continued to eat in between asking questions. He’d grab or gently nudge your hand up to your face to ensure you took bites. He was fussy, yes, but very sweet.

‘De-stabilization, huh? Sounds scary’ you added between quick bites of your sandwich.

‘Catastrophic’ Miguel corrected.

‘Not—necessarily’ Mig said as he wiped crumbs from your face. ‘All it means, is that we need to ensure the serum won’t de-stabilize and cause any anomalous activities or holes when used. We’re delicately re-organizing multiverse DNA, but, we are handling it with utmost care.’

‘You don’t need to convince me, Miggy, I believe you’ you snorted back.

Mig opened his mouth to speak again when a low beep drew his attention away. It was Miguel’s watch, most likely a message, and whatever it was had turned his contented expression into a deeply sour one.

‘Ah… Mierda. So stupid.’

He cursed beneath his breath as he dropped from his office back down to the floor, landing with a dull thud.

‘What’s up?’ you called over.

‘It’s Jess. It’s this Halloween party, ah—I didn’t even vote for it! But I’m the leader, apparently, of course I only become leader when it suits them—’

You paused Miguel mid-rant by snapping your fingers. ‘Miguel! Come on, to the point. You’re rambling.’

‘Ay, don’t be rude. What I meant to say, then, is apparently I have to go approve these new decorations. I’ll be back soon, we’ll finish the second test run when I’m done.’

Miguel had begun walking before you could even think to say anything else, so you and Mig just resorted to waving him off with a soft ‘bye!’. He shot you a deflated thumbs up over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

Silence fell in the wake of his departure, and for the first time you were alone with Miguel. All you could hear in the office was Mig’s thudding heart and his slow, rhythmic breathing against your scalp.

‘Arañita?’

You blinked and leaned back against his abdomen until his face came into view. His eyes were wide, and as they watched you awkwardly blowing his fluff out of your eyes, they dilated. ‘I didn’t get to mention, this morning…’ He paused and swallowed. ‘You look, radiant today, mi amor. You look very, pretty.’

The second those words left his mouth you broke out into a dumb little smile. You tried to look away, but Mig was quick to catch your chin with his claw, forcing you to hold his gaze. His eyes softened.

‘No, no. Don’t deny it. I know you want to.’

‘Miggy…’

‘That is not to say that you don’t always look pleasing. You do. But I wanted to tell you today. I feel I don’t tell you enough.’

‘You make it more than clear how you feel about me, Mig’ you whispered back. His fur was warm and sweet on your cheek, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into it. ‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘Mm… But I will, mi amor’ he whispered back. God, he loved saying that. He’d say it all day every day if given half the chance. ‘Mi amor, you are such a beautiful creature. I am grateful every second of every day that I have you as my mate.’

You felt the heat in your cheeks growing in tandem with the lightness in your chest. You squealed internally as he smiled down at you, his face filled with open, honest sincerity. ‘Yeah, well… I could say the same about you too, so… you know’ you murmured. His eyes narrowed with barely suppressed joy.

‘Do I know?’

‘You… Yes, but—Okay. You are also, a beautiful creature, and I am extremely grateful every millisecond of every day that I met you’ you replied with a teasing jab. He chuckled, and when you chuckled back, he bent his torso down to meet your own.

‘I missed you’ Mig whispered. You could feel him nosing at your hair as he spoke, taking deep and lingering breaths around the crown of your head.

‘I missed you too, Mig’ you whispered back. The warmth of his fur was nice on your back as you leaned into him, relishing the small moment of peace and quiet. You could hear nothing but a distant beep of some nebulous electronics and the soft, deep breaths Mig was savoring above you. You could tell he was huffing your scent.

‘You, uh… you sure are smelling me a lot, lately’ you said. The break in silence and the bluntness of the question caused Mig’s eyes to shoot open.

‘… I am?’

‘Mhm.’

‘As in, more than usual?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Oh, I—I’m sorry, arañita—’

‘No! No, don’t apologize. I didn’t mean it was an issue. I just…’

You slowly rolled your head back to catch his gaze, only to wind up nose to nose with him. You felt his breath on your lips as you both locked eyes. The warmth, the proximity, it made something familiar in your gut tighten and twist.

Mig purred. ‘Then, how did you mean it, arañita?’ he whispered.

You felt that sweet tightness in your gut twisting tighter, and without even thinking your thighs squished together. Mig’s eyes darted down, catching that tiny act, before sliding back up and narrowing ever so slightly. He let you catch his tongue slipping out to slide along his lower lip.

‘I meant, ah… I meant, I just, noticed it. It—it’s usually a sign that, something else is going on, you know?’ you stammered back.

‘I know what you’re referring to, mi arañita’ he murmured back. ‘Are you implying I might be heading into a rut?’

‘Well… I wouldn’t, dare, assume, but…’

You felt your breath starting to catch as your heart rate sped up, matching the steady rhythm of his own thundering beat. You could see his eyelids drooping, his abdomen gently jerking back and forth like a dog wagging its tail.

The growing heat was physically palpable. It was like the sun on your skin, itchy and hot. ‘We’re in the office’ you whispered softly. You’d both drifted so close now that you could feel his lips on your own. Mig was panting, breathing in you, verging right on the edge of snapping you up and eating you whole.

‘Yes…’

‘Mig… W-We’re in the HQ, we—’

‘We’re in the office…’

Mig pressed one sweet, tender kiss against your lower lip, but he lingered just long enough to let you know that, if he could, he’d have bitten down on that lip in a second. You stammered out a shaky whine in response.

‘Mig, we can’t.’

‘Do you want to go back to the nest?’

‘What if Miguel comes back? We need to—finish the, stupid work—’

‘Then here.’

‘Mig—’

You paused your soft whispering to kiss for the second time. It was almost reflexive, with your lips losing focus and going against your better judgement to press up against his. You’d kiss once and then pause, as you both brushed against the realm of better judgement for a fleeting second, only to kiss each other once more.

Soft then hard, lingering and passionate, tasting him for just a second until it got too painful to not kiss him again.

‘Mm—Mig, mm—’

‘Arañita…’

You felt his tongue slip out and obediently parted your lips, letting your tongues wind between your barely open mouths. You could taste his breath, you could feel the heat brewing in him as he tried to slip into your open maw. At this point your skin was burning, and worst of all, you could feel your clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.

You were a shivering, burning mess. You’d gone too far.

‘Miggy— Mm… Miggy, come on—’

‘Arañita…’

‘If, Miguel comes back—’

As you withdrew from the kiss Mig moved closer, gripping your waist with his thick, heavy claws so you couldn’t pull away. He didn’t kiss you, but he did press his lips to your nose, and there he spoke again.

‘Don’t make me chase you, arañita.’

Those sweet, husky words whispering against your skin made you shudder. It was enough to make your insides clench and quiver, and Mig knew it.

‘F-Fuck, god damn it… hah… mm. Okay. You wanna play like that?’

You stealthily shifted your suit down by just the pants, taking your underwear with it. Not enough to be naked, but enough to get Mig hooked in the sweet scent you knew would drive him crazy. Just as planned, the moment your underwear went past that navel line, his pupils dilated.

‘Mm… arañita… You smell, delicious…’

He lowered his head with a speed and strength you knew you couldn’t match, but he did relinquish his grip on your waist to do so. You let him bury his nose between your thighs, slipping right into the little defined curve where your suit met your pussy lips, and he huffed like a madman.

‘Mmm… qué rico, mi arañita hermoso/a…’

He whined the words directly against your clothed cunt, letting you feel his lips and tongue moving against every ridge and inch he could get. You were sure that if you let him linger any longer he’d rip the fabric with his fangs and have himself a little dessert, and while part of you desperately wanted to let him, that wasn’t the plan.

You grabbed his hair and pulled, letting him get as pussy drunk as you could allow without fully tipping him over the edge.

‘Good boy, good, good boy…’

You held him there just long enough, until his spider legs were tapping that familiar mating rhythm and his abdomen was shaking with feverish intent, and then—

‘Catch me, big boy.’

You whispered those words before webbing yourself out of his grip, flying over his abdomen and landing squarely on the office floor behind him. You saw his claws grasping to try and catch you, but he was too late. You’d escaped.

He spun around just in time to see you hurrying into the dark corners of Miguel’s office. He hungrily growled. ‘Oh, arañita… Okay. We’ll play that game then.’ He licked the little traces of your scent from his upper lip, and he gave chase.

You webbed your way into the darkness and crouched down behind a pile of forgotten electronics, moving stealthily on four legs to avoid being seen. You could faintly see Miguel’s shadow as he moved through the office and toward your location. As he abandoned the light his eyes began to glow, illuminating the shape of his spindly legs with an eerie red outline.

‘Mi tesoro?’

The adrenaline was thick. You knew that it was just your sweet, gentle Mig roaming after you, but that didn’t stop the sweet, controlled dose of fear that you got whenever you played hide and seek with that enormous, skulking spider.

‘Naughty arañita… You like playing at this, don’t you?’

Mig purred softly as he crept around the edge of the lab. His paws were quiet underfoot, carefully padded to keep even his enormous body nearly entirely silent.

‘You like playing at being prey… So cute. You know what’ll happen when I catch you… Does that excite you, arañita? That I will rip those pretty clothes off and mate with you the moment you’re in my paws? Are you thinking about it right now?’

The echo of his voice drove you lower to the floor. You could hear him getting closer, but your cover was running out, and if you raised your head he’d surely see you and pounce. You didn’t want the fun to be over that quickly.

You began to back up instead, shifting along the wall until you found an opening. It felt like a door of some kind, and as you carefully, carefully creaked it open, you realized that you’d found an old, unused closet in the back of Miguel’s space.

‘Arañita…’

Miguel’s hungry, husky groan filled the air, alongside an animalistic rustling. It sounded like a rug being shaken out, or a rattlesnake, but you knew better. That was his abdomen prepping for his mating ritual.

You subdued your own shiver of excitement and slipped into the closet.

In here it was pitch black. You could feel the dust on the floor, betraying just how old this space was, and the trickle of light peaking in through the door wasn’t enough to go more than an inch into the closet’s depths.

You were forced to blindly shuffle until your hands hit a wall, forcing you to turn and shuffle backward until you met the same fate. Eventually, you stopped moving altogether, realizing that it was pointless, and resigned yourself to cowering in the dark like a rabbit.

You couldn’t hear Mig in here. Either that, or he’d stopped taunting completely.

It was terrifying how quiet he was. For something so big his soft paws muffled any sound he might have made, allowing him to move with little to no noise. He was a real predator, a creature at the top of his theoretical food chain, and you often forgot that yourself.

In the dark you waited, listening to your own heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the cold creeping up on you in here, giving you goosebumps on your arms. You felt the strain of the concrete floor on your knees.

But that wasn’t all you felt.

A heavy, overwhelming presence had abruptly settled against your back, and now something hot, warm and wet was sliding up your nape to the base of your skull. Instinctively your body tensed, but then you felt it again, and in a second that primal fear disappeared.

It was Mig’s tongue. He was licking your nape, tasting your scent with your highly adapted senses. He’d move in shyly, lapping once or twice, before nuzzling his nose into the thick of your hair and starting the cycle all over again.

‘I caught you, arañita.’

Your body began to relax. You felt his claws fondling your chest and rear in the darkness, squeezing your ass until his claws left a little imprint. His lips, too continued to grope at your nape, licking and nipping the skin until it bruised.

‘You know what that means.’

You let out a low groan. Between the fear, the heat, and now the dark, cramped space you’d been trapped in, there was no turning back now.

‘Mm… O-Okay, you win. Just… just a little…’

It took very little convincing for you to turn around and smash your lip into his. This time you didn’t hesitate before opening your mouth for him to explore, letting his huge, warm tongue slide into your mouth. He wound his tongue around your own, tasting your scent, your moans, everything he could get.

‘Mm… arañita…’

His hands began creeping up and down your body, squishing lightly at your belly and waist. He loved feeling the way your flesh moved beneath his fingers, how frail your ribs felt under his claws. He deepened the kiss.

‘Mm…’

You could feel that Mig was already getting erect. In the pitch black you could only rely on touch to sense any changes, and you could feel his soft phallus slowly beginning to peek out from the slit in his abdomen. It was twitching against your belly.

The kissing just barely muffled your sounds as you tried to speak. ‘Mm… Mm.. I-I can’t, get fully naked, but—’

‘Why not?’

‘Mmm—’

With a soft moan you broke the kiss, leaving the two of you panting into each other’s mouths. ‘I need to- be able to re-suit quickly if anyone comes in, you beautiful idiot.’

Without another word you shifted your suit pants down to the middle of your thighs, leaving just enough bare room for Miguel to slip himself between your legs. His eyes dilated at the sight.

‘Oh… r-right. Hah. Right…’ Mig purred as he grabbed your body and spun it around, bracing you in a slightly tilted position. He braced himself with his hands on either side of the closet walls, and with the bare minimum delicacy he could muster, he began to buck himself in.

‘C-Careful… just, s-stay still. I’ll be quick.’

He started thrusting, shifting his cock in the darkness as he searched for his prize. You felt that bulbous tip nudged at your back, then your ass, before slowly making its way down to the warm, sweet space beneath.

You bit your lip and braced yourself, internally prepping for the pressure. He paused, angled, and thrust.

However, he missed.

‘Ah! F-Fuck—’

In his haste, he slid right past your cunt. His cock was so big that it slid right between your thighs, settling between your pussy lips with a full handful of member poking out the other side. It almost made you dizzy, remembering that you so frequently let such a beast of a shaft inside you.

Mig groaned at your back and began slowly humping at your clenched thighs, shifting his plush phallus back and forth.

‘Mm… S-So, warm…’

You were quickly coated in thick, sticky pre-cum and your own slick as he began to thrust faster and faster, riding out his frustration. He was too eager to even stop and try to enter you properly. This would have to do.

With one hand over your mouth and the other bracing your body to the wall, you let Miguel rut his cock between your thighs, eagerly fucking them and your clit raw.

There was only one thought in your heads:

More. More…

You coyly grabbed the little bit of shaft slipping out the other side of your thighs and began to manually pump it with your fist, relishing in the warmth and the slipperiness against your palm.

‘A-Ah, arañita…’

Mig moaned your nickname into your hair as he continued rutting against your back, the double stimulation driving him absolutely mad. You were beside yourself as he continued grinding that soft, plush, velvety shaft up against your clit, using your slick as lubricant to slide a little easier.

MORE. MORE.

You bent forward and down, contorting yourself so that you could hungrily lap at your member. Mig barely stifled his predatory groans.

‘A-Arañita, ah—c-careful—!’

You slurped at his member until you could just about get a little of it between your lips, and while he continued furiously pumping between your thighs you began sucking on the tip. It was weirdly sweet, as always, though not in a sickly way. It was thick and slightly earthy, like raw, natural honey, and it soon coated your tongue in that sticky white fluid.

Mig, at this point, was losing his mind. He dug his claws into your hips to hold you steady as he began bucking without rhythm, driving himself into every crevice of your body he could.

‘Hah- o-okay, good arañita. G-Good. That’s it, lick it up.’

You allowed him to thrust between your parted lips and groaned. Mig was left breathlessly humping, with one hand still dug into your side and the other tenderly petting your hip as he rode out his frustrations into your mouth and between your legs.

‘Good, there you go. There you go. Mm… Así así, arañita, estás haciendo un buen trabajo.’

His sweet praise helped to ease the pain in your jaw as you took more of him in. The plush, squishiness of his cock made it easier to mouth and suck, but there was just so much of it. You were choking on the tip.

Luckily, Mig could only handle so much. He was utterly overstimulated, between the beautiful sensation of your lips and tongue on his member and the warmth and wetness of your thighs, topped off with the sight of you bent over and taking him from all angles—

‘Ah! Bájale, bájale, arañita.’

He pulled back and began patting your hip for clemency as your lips nearly drew him to a violent impromptu orgasm. You gasped as he withdrew. You were panting hard, slightly dazed from the pleasure and the blood rush to the head, your lips now a mess of saliva and pre-cum. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel the little trail of fluid hanging between your lips and Miguel’s twitching member.

‘Ah… h-huh?’ you mumbled. ‘W-What?’

Mig had to tilt you back to an upright position himself, and there he hugged you close while still slowly pumping between your thighs.

‘Shh, that’s it arañita. You did so good. Just rest now, treasure, let me do the work.’

‘Mm… But—’

‘Let me do the work.’

He repeated those words in a sweet, cooing manner, drawing you to relax in his grip. It was easy to give in, especially with his shaft still gently massaging your swollen clit.

He wanted to focus on you now.

He drew back and began carefully thrusting at just the right angle, probing his hot and now very wet member was pressed right up to your clit. The sensation was hard to describe. All you knew is that you weren’t going to last long like this.

‘Ah… M-Mig, fuck…’

He kept you stabilized with his arms, allowing you to focus on just the pleasure of his movement.

‘You smell so good’ he moaned directly into your ear. ‘So good, arañita. I’d eat you up if I could. My beautiful, beautiful little spider. So—f-fucking, soft—’

He groaned out loud as he started to speed up, frantically squishing and grinding every inch of his cock between your lips. You could hear the manic, wet squelching of your own slick being papped back and forth by his movements, a soft ‘thwap’ that was getting louder and louder.

‘M-Mig—’

‘Mm, so soft, want you—covered in seed—’

‘Mig!’

‘Stuffed, s-stuffed with it. Stuff with my cum. Pretty little spider, full of my babies, full of my e-eggs—’

You tried to warn him, but Mig was too wrapped up in his own manic, heat-induced fantasy to notice. He was dizzy with the thought of web-knotting you, imagining his cock sliding right up to your cervix and then being webbed into place so none of his seed would spill. He was imagining you swollen with his offspring and resting in his silk den, his perfect little mate for life, fulfilling all of his desires.

You had no chance of stopping him, so you did the only thing you could do: you shuddered and orgasmed all over his shaft.

It was your barely muffled scream of pleasure that finally jolted him back to reality, and back to the gorgeous sight of your body trembling and spasming as it throbbed all over his member. He audibly gasped and twitched, letting his cock throb right back as he milked you for all the slick you would offer.

When your knees began to shake, he held you in place. Your weight was nothing to him. No matter what you weighed, with his size, he could have carried you like a kitten.

‘Mi amor’ he cooed into your hair. ‘Mi amor, mi amor… So beautiful. What a beautiful sight.’

‘Hah… f-fuck, uh… I-I can, barely feel my legs’ you panted back.

‘Shh. I’m here. You did so good, arañita.’

‘I-I didn’t, do anything, mi amor, I just… came’ you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

‘You did more than enough’ Mig purred sweetly. He took the chance to slide two fingers down between your lips and around your clit, letting your slick accumulate on his claws. Your body jerked at the sudden rush of stimulation.

‘Ah—’

‘More than enough. I’d pay to watch you do that again.’ Mig kissed your forehead as he slid his fingers back up and pressed them to his lips. You heard him licking them clean.

‘But I’ll take my payment another way, I think.’

You let out a shaky groan as he moved your body back into position. He was lining himself up again, and this time, he wasn’t going to miss.

You could feel his thick member pulsing at your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin before its final penetration. He’d rock himself a few times, shifting just an inch in before pulling back out, just enough to make that sweet squelching pop ring out. He could picture it now: the sweet feeling of your cunt enveloping every inch of him, welcoming him in, squeezing the life out of him as you moaned his name.

His name. His mate. His.

‘That’s it, arañita, are you ready for me?’

‘Y-Yes, yes—fuck, please Mig—’

‘You want it?’

He bucked closer, preparing to push in. You cried out.

‘Yes, fuck, please!’

‘You want it?’

‘Yes!’

‘You want—’

‘Hey! Mig?’

Miguel’s voice echoing through the halls drew you both to an abrupt and awkward halt. God damn it.

Mig tried to force himself to push through it, with the animal half of his brain wanting to just ignore the call of his variant, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He slowly rocked to a stop and, with great reluctance, yanked his cock out from between your thighs.

‘Ah, my mistake… We got carried away again, didn’t we? Come here, mi amor. Let’s calm you down.’

He whispered those soft words into your hair as he yanked your body up and into his arms. He began applying as much desperate aftercare as he could; stroking your hair, kissing your neck and cheeks, stroking over and gently rubbing your muscles until the weakness in them subsided.

He held you with the utmost care while you struggled to recover from your orgasm. It was a big ask to compartmentalize all of the sweet arousal you’d just barely tasted.

‘Mig, you… b-but you didn’t fini—’

‘I’ll be fine, arañita’ Mig whispered. He was already carefully concealing his erection, letting it subside back into the little slot in which it was usually hidden. He was sweating from the strain, yes, but he had some control.

‘Mig, the rut—’

‘I have your slick covering my phallus with your scent’ he very bluntly murmured into the curve of your ear, causing you to shiver. ‘I wreak of you, arañita. That is enough for me right now. At least… It will tide me over, until I can get you home properly.’

You managed a small, slightly breathy giggle. ‘And then I’ll be your little cum dumpster, huh?’ you teased back. Mig purred.

‘You will be a good mate’ he whispered, ‘and you will do your duty by me, I’m sure.’

‘And that duty is?’

He leaned closer, gently nipping your earlobe. ‘Being, as you so brazenly put it, my little cum dumpster.’

You may have given in and fucked him right there in the closet space if Miguel hadn’t called out once more, drawing you back to the present.

‘Hey! Mig?’

You both gave a slightly similar sigh. You knew this was your own doing, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Miguel. You just couldn’t wait for this stupid serum to be done.

‘Alright, come on. Let’s go get back to work’ you whispered. Without another word you began frantically pulling your suit back into place, and once you were both relatively dressed and presentable you silently crept back out into the main officer together.

‘Mig?! Ay! Are you—Oh. Oh… ¡Ey, que la chingada!’

Miguel raised both hands to his face as you both sheepishly appeared from behind the loose paneling. He didn’t need to ask what you were doing.

‘In my office!’ he snapped. ‘My office— Dios Mio… It’s going to smell, in here, for- hours, if not days!’

‘No, it’s not’ you called back as you hurried over. ‘Calm down.’

‘DON’T—Don’t, tell me to calm down, YOU did this!’ he seethed.

‘We’re—it’s, stressful, with the heat, and- we are very sorry, I swear’ you hissed as you finally caught up to him. Mig remained sheepishly stone-faced at your back.

‘I’m stressed too!’ Miguel replied just as sharply. ‘¿Y que hay de mi? Eh? Nobodies around to relieve my stress, but you don’t see me complaining!’

You and Mig both blinked and glanced at each other before turning back to Miguel in near unison, all while he continued to heave his chest in righteous indignation. You allowed the silence to continue just long enough to make his eyes dart a little.

‘… What? Why are you staring at me like that?’ he hissed.

‘… I mean, are you asking to be involved?’ you replied bluntly. You just barely managed to suppress the urge to giggle as he blanked. The way his eyes widened, the way his lips drew back to flash his fangs in a mixture of intrigue, disgust and confusion. You knew your response would create that exact reaction, but it was funnier to fix him with a neutral expression as he scoffed.

‘You- no!’ he snapped back. ‘No, I wasn’t- no! No!’

‘Are you sure?’ you asked. As you spoke you coyly leaned forward, noting the way his eyes darted over your body. He was forced to physically turn his back on you to avoid being accused of anything unseemly.

‘Tienes una mente bien cochambrosa’ he grumbled under his breath. ‘Look, whatever traits me and him might share, there is one big goddamn difference, and that’s that I’m not a massive pervert.’

‘Aw, but you’re stressed, like you said! Come on, lemme help.’ You continued your teasing as you took a few steps closer. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your little tiptoe motion, and like a frightened deer he stumbled away.

‘What- no!’

‘Yeah, come on! I’ll help you out’ you cooed, your hands stretching out to grab him. He took another step back.

‘What are you- has the heat melted your brain or something?’

Miguel was getting more and more heated as you crept towards him, his irritation betraying the little auburn glow in his eyes and cheeks. Your eyes crinkled with joy; you could practically smell his inner thoughts, and he could definitely smell you.

‘Come ‘ere, Miggy’ you cooed again. 

‘No! I will- I will subdue you! I’m warning you!’ he hissed, which only made you giggle more. You continued forward, and with each step you took Miguel scurried in the opposite direction. It was almost absurd to see that enormous, terrifying hybrid of a man fleeing from you in circles around his office, like a kitten chasing a guard dog.

‘I’m serious! If you don’t stop—’

‘Come on, come here!’

‘YOU- Hey, pendejo! Control your- mate!’

Miguel made a desperate plea to Mig as you both sped around his body, but Mig was enjoying himself at this point. ‘They are correct. You did say you were stressed’ he purred back, which caused Miguel to sneer at him.

‘MIG!’

With a grunt of exasperation Miguel sank his claws into the wall and began frantically climbing, forgetting that you could use your webs to follow. You pursued him up into the rafters and back down again, all while Mig watched with a smile on his face and his hands clasped in his lap.

You knew Miguel could have genuinely ended the chase immediately. He could have used a light cage, a web, anything really, but he didn’t. He let you chase him until you were exhausted, too tired to even finish swinging from the web you’d slung, and only then did he grab you by the nape and carry you back down himself.

He handed you over to Miguel like a stray cat, unceremoniously dumping you into his lap.

‘You are both a strain on my existence, and if I could I would have you both exiled to a barren universe where nobody would ever hear from you again’ he said in a totally deadpan voice, which only drove you into another fit of breathless giggling. Mig, too, chuckled a little in response.

‘No, come on. You love us’ you cooed back.

‘I hate you both. Sincerely. With absolute determination, in every universe.’

‘No, don’t lie! You love us!’

‘Dios mio— Alright. You, you—’ Miguel said, pausing just to point his claw in your face. ‘Yes, you, go help Jess with the Halloween party.’

‘What?! But—’

‘You are distracting my co-worker’ Miguel slowly repeated, cutting off any excuse you might have made. ‘You can mess around after our work is done. So, you know what? You’re taking over my Halloween duties. Got that?’

You instinctively shot Mig a look, expecting him to argue on your behalf, but the moment you locked eyes you realized he was technically right. Mig wanted you, badly, but he wanted to finish his work too. After a moment of silent conversation, you relented.

‘Alright’ you sighed, ‘alright, fine. I’ll go do the stupid party work.’

‘Good. Thank you’ Miguel said, though he clearly tacked the apology onto the end at the last minute. You took it regardless.

‘Actually, that means I can go get my costume’ you mused as you grabbed up your bags. ‘I’ll come show it to you later, you’re gonna LOVE it!’

‘I’m sure I will, arañita. Be careful’ Mig hummed back.

You reluctantly bumped foreheads with him, giving each other a very quick kiss to avoid starting up any more unwanted urges, and with that you hurried out of the room to go find Jess.

Mig watched you go with a slightly melancholic expression. He was doing a good job of hiding how badly he wanted you, how painful the rut was as it went unfulfilled, but he was less adept at hiding how much he missed you in general. He pined openly as he stared at the empty space where you’d been.

‘Come on, back to work’ Miguel snapped over his shoulder. He tossed him a pair of safety glasses to snap him back to reality, and after watching the enormous spider struggle to catch them he slipped on his own.

Mig paused and glanced between the glasses and the empty doorway, but he only allowed himself a moment to disassociate. After a few seconds of thought he obediently slipped the glasses on and got back into position at the desk.

‘Yes, sir.’

The two managed to work in silence for about a half hour, but there was a strange tension in the air that was hard to place. They were struggling to focus on their calculations or on the prep required to run the next test. Despite their attempts to hunker down and focus, it seemed inevitable that one of them would break the silence.

‘… You okay?’

It was Miguel who spoke first. Mig paused on his calculations and turned to glance at his counterpart, carefully shifting his glasses down so he could see him better.

‘Me?’

‘Yep. You’re the only one here, bud.’

‘… Yes. I am, fine’ Mig replied cautiously. ‘Are you, okay?’

‘Mhm.’

‘… Why do you ask?’

Miguel grunted and withdrew after soldering a single piece of metal together. He, too, raised his glasses, and fixed Mig with a veiled glare. ‘… I mean you were, copulating in my office’ he said bluntly.

‘… Ah. Right. Yes. I—Should apologize for that, I suppose’ Mig mumbled. He didn’t drop his eyes the same way you did, but he looked bashful enough to seem sincere. ‘I swear it was not personal, this time, I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Yeah, I know’ Miguel sighed. ‘You’re just two stupid rabbits. I got it.’

Mig didn’t reply. He held onto that silence for a minute or so more before Miguel spoke again.

‘… Three, stupid rabbits. I know I can’t keep discounting myself.’

‘Mm. I do not, blame you for discounting yourself. I know our nature is frowned upon’ Mig replied in a kinder tone, one that irritated Miguel. He couldn’t stand Mig’s gentle nature. He knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve it.

‘Let’s just… focus on the experiment’ he grunted. Mig gave a curt nod, and he turned back to the table.

But they both knew that they couldn’t actually stay silent.

‘I think… if we try it this way, we might be able to get over that final 1% hurdle’ Miguel said after a minute's silence.

‘Mm. I hope so. I have high hopes for these next few trials’ Mig purred, giving his abdomen a happy little wiggle. ‘It has been a hard wait, but, I will be grateful to have it finished. I will be grateful for the help you offered. To finally be with mi arañita…’

‘Yep. You’ll get everything’ Miguel murmured. ‘If this works… You’ll get everything we both wanted.’

Mig’s purring dulled as he gazed over at his counterpart. ‘… You, make it sounds as if you are jealous of that fact.’

‘Do I? I hadn’t noticed.’

Miguel’s sudden, sarcastic tone caught Mig off guard. Miguel’s face hardened as he tried to maintain that cold façade, but even that quickly fell apart. He couldn’t stay mad at his big, stupid variant anymore, not now.

‘… Yeah, I’m jealous’ he murmured.

‘But, why?’

‘You know why.’

‘I’m aware we had our troubles, yes. But I don’t understand why you would still be envious of me now.’

Miguel scoffed a little, which only urged Mig to get closer. He bent his front legs to peer at Miguel with earnest eyes.

‘Is it still mi arañita? Do you—’

‘No! Not—’ Miguel paused and instinctively raised his hand. ‘Sorry, that sounds defensive. Ah.’

He ran that same hand down his face with a sigh. ‘It’s not. At least not… I mean I’m not, envious of your relationship to them, but… Perhaps, maybe I am envious that you have someone.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘It all, just… works for you. It works out for you’ Miguel grumbled, his hand slowly sliding back down to his side. ‘And I don’t know why.’

‘That seems an unfair assessment’ Mig replied quietly. ‘You are, implying that my life has somehow been notably easier than yours.’

Miguel opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it.

‘I used to think you were the better of us all’ Mig said when Miguel failed to speak for himself. ‘You were the most human. The most adjusted. You had friends, co-workers, your… your, Dana was still alive, even if now gone.’

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel grumbled reluctantly. He couldn’t look Mig in the eye as he said it, but he managed to force it out. ‘I am. I didn’t—mean to imply that.’

‘It’s okay’ Mig purred. ‘In that mandatory therapy you made us go to, I… Came to understand a lot about my perception of you. You were everything that I wasn’t. A hybrid who passed for human, surrounded by people. And I hated you for it, but, I didn’t hate you—’

‘Well, you did. You hated me. For, justified reasons, I will add.’

Mig purred a mild chuckle in response. ‘Yes, I hated you after you tried to interfere. But I know why you did, perhaps better than anybody else. I liked rubbing it in your face, that I had achieved something unique and beautiful, because I put all of my misgivings onto you.’

In almost near synchronicity their smiles faded.

‘… Yeah’ Miguel murmured back. ‘Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.’

For a few minutes the two were silent. Miguel continued running logistics while Mig watched the screen, keeping track of the numbers as they flew past. For a while Miguel wanted desperately to pretend that he could leave the conversation there, but, that was a fools hope.

After testing a few logistics he paused the screen and gripped his desk for stability. Mig watched him with unblinking focus.

‘I tried to have a family. Even a, tiny little piece of a family, for myself… and I failed’ Miguel murmured. The cold blue light of the screen danced across his expression, filling in the hardened trauma lines in his face. The shadows in his brow and nose were sharpened under that dead light.

‘I failed. There was only one universe where I was happy, and I lost it, because—’

Miguel paused, unable to continue with that line of thought. Mig just purred.

‘Did you never wonder why?’ Miguel said, his voice barely a whisper. He sounded like a child re-calling their nightmare to their parent.

‘Why?’

‘Why we suffer?’ Miguel hissed. ‘Did you never wonder why? Why every O’Hara has to suffer, alone? Why there was only one universe where one of us was happy, and even there he… even he… and I…’

Miguel bit his tongue and went totally still, his eyes wild. Mig allowed him a few more moments of silence before speaking again.

‘… I pondered that thought all the time’ Mig murmured back. He turned to gaze at the screen, seeing the little snippets of video flashing in the corner. He could see you, making your way down the beams, and it made his heart ache.

‘I pondered it before I came here. Why did I have to turn, why did my loved ones have to go, why did I have to be left alone? I’d ponder it every night as I looked at the stars, playing my silk strings, wondering why I didn’t deserve better.’

‘I always said, I created interdimensional travel to try and keep things on the straight and narrow. To, fix everyone’s stupid little mistakes’ Miguel said, more to himself than to Mig. ‘But I don’t think that was true. I don’t think that’s very honest.’

He caught a glimpse of the same video Mig was watching then, and he froze up. He saw that little girl tossing the football around, beaming and smiling at the camera with mud on her face. His little girl.

His expression darkened, and he swiped the video away.

‘I did it to fix my existence. To find somewhere better.’

‘And you did, did you not?’ Mig replied.

Miguel scowled until the red light of his eyes was reflected onto his cheeks like tear stains. ‘… I did something, that’s for sure’ he replied. He ran another hand down his face as he mulled over the choices he’d made, and the choices he was about to make.

‘If this serum works…. We are going against fate by doing this’ Miguel said slowly. ‘We are, testing the very limits of what fate allows.’

‘You talk of fate as if it’s a real thing’ Mig replied. Miguel’s scowl deepened.

‘… What if it is?’

The two men glanced at each other in unison. The two were now barely a few inches apart, with the monitor light perfectly highlighting their differences. Mig’s soft, hopeful eyes against Miguel’s dark, narrowed hopelessness. Red like blood, and red like the sunset, fixed on each other in the silence.

‘There is no such thing as fate’ Mig said directly to Miguel’s face. ‘There is no fate. There is a universal series of likelihoods, that are numerically inescapable. They must exist, in a world with infinite possibilities. In every universe, for us to exist as we are, as hybrids, as monsters, there must be suffering. It’s not fate. It’s just the same, sad event, playing over and over again. But after that event… There are a million choices to make.’

Miguel narrowed his eyes further as Mig spoke. He clenched his fists and let the squeak of leather stretching fill the silence.

‘Then why does it still all go wrong?’ Miguel hissed.

‘Because bad things happen’ Mig replied matter-of-factly.

‘Bullshit. This is more than just- regular bad things. You can tell me what happened to us is just, regular bad!’

‘No. Some people, have it worse, I admit—’

‘Much, worse. Much worse!’

‘Okay. Much worse. Yes. I concede that.’

The two fell into a slightly awkward silence as Miguel tried to soothe his temper. It was his only coping mechanism

‘All I meant, is… Bad things will always happen. But the good still happened too. No matter what happens from here… I will be grateful for the time I had’ Mig said softly.

‘Do you really think, you could lose this, and still be happy?’ Miguel argued back, though his tone had also softened. ‘Really?’

That thought drew Mig to pause. He tapped his little fluffy paws on the floor of the office, as he tried to decide how to respond. In the end, he did what he always did: he spoke the painful truth.

‘No’ he whispered. ‘No. I could never be happy again if I lost them.’

Miguel didn’t reply with words. He just gave his own somber nod of agreement. Despite the nice platitudes, despite wanting to altruistically believe they could be calm and composed enough to accept their fates with grace, both of them knew what loss could do.

In the end, there was only one thing Miguel could think to offer.

‘Okay. Come on, I’ll handle the last of this. I can run the last few tests by myself with Lyla. The Halloween party should be starting in a few hours, just um- just, you go and help them out. They probably got themselves lost. Tonto.’

‘But, Miguel, I want to help—’

‘That’s an order’ Miguel said, sharply cutting off Mig’s retort.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, almost as if they could speak without saying a word. Their eyes were locked.

Part of Mig wanted to say no. He didn’t want to leave his work, he didn’t want to wait. He also, deep, deep down, didn’t necessarily trust Miguel fully yet. What if it was a trick? What if Miguel used this as leverage to sabotage the test? After all, it’s what he’d have done in the past.

But the more he looked at Miguel, the more he doubted those fears. He looked so irritated, the stubborn fool, but he looked so open too. So genuine in his annoyance that he was allowing himself to do this kindness. There was no quiet pride, or any façade of politeness to hide his intentions. He really wanted to do something nice, and he hated himself for it.

Eventually, just as you’d done, Mig relented. He bowed his head and agreed to go, but not before giving Miguel an awkward clap on the shoulder.

‘Thank you, amigo.’

Miguel flinched at the new nickname. It caught him so off guard he nearly snorted out loud.

‘You, wh… Shut up! Jesus, you tried to fuck in my office behind my back, don’t start with that. Get out. Go on.’

To save face Miguel quickly snapped and pushed Mig’s hand aside, though there was no genuine fire in his words. Even Mig could pick that up. ‘Very well. I shall see you later, then. Take care’ Mig added, before turning and padding his way out of the office in hot pursuit of wherever you’d gotten off to.

Miguel was left alone, hands clasped to his desk, trying to hide the bemused and confused expression on his face. He hadn’t even noticed his claws had sunk into the desk.

Amigo…

‘Tonto’ he hissed beneath his breath, and with cheeks now burnt a soft shade of auburn red he returned to his work.

Link to next part!

[yinora-evergreen]

Hiii!! Can I request early seasons sam x reader where there exhausted after a hunt so they cry together in a cute way? <3 (I hope you get the vision aha)

a/n: i totally get your vision!! i struggled a little bit writing this, but i hope you enjoy it! im really glad you requested this, because i really wanna get better at writing more things like this. i tried to make it a little bit angst to fluff, but idk if i succeeded at that

pairing: Sam Winchester x gn!reader

note: i kinda made Dean an asshole, much to my own pain, but it fits the best. i'd just like to point out that Dean does care, but in this fic he's just a dick about it, because it fit best

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

you swear you didn't mean for it to go so not-according-to-plan.

you, Sam and Dean took this case, an old cabin in the woods was haunted by an old lumberjack's ghost, who wasn't very keen on human interaction when he was alive, and therefore, once he died, his body was never found, he kept his place a secret, and now he was haunting the old place, and anyone who came in ended up bloody, to say the least.

you three had made a simple plan: get in, stay quiet, find the body, and roasty toasty mr mcghosty.

but, much to nobody's surprise, the place was old, and made of wood, and apparently, wasn't as sturdy as it used to be.

Sam and Dean had made it up the stairs with minimal noise, however, much to your luck, one of the steps broke under your weight, making your leg get stuck, a piece of wood impaling your thigh, making you groan at the sudden wave of sharp pain, and ofcourse, that alerted the ghost.

it appeared, right infront of you, and swung a rather large axe at you, which you managed to avoid getting hit with by throwing your iron wrench you had with you at it, making it temporarily dissappear.

long story short, Sam helped you up, you three found the body, and burned it, end of story.

however, you had bled quite a bit, and passed out.

next thing you know, you wake up in the back of the impala, Sam sitting next to you in the backseat with a worried expression, and Dean complaining in the front.

"i told you it was a bad idea to bring them, Sammy, they're newer at this than we are, we shouldn't have brought them" you furrow your brows.

"Dean, this isn't their fault! it could've been either of us who fell through those stairs, we just got lucky, and they didn't" Sam argues back, mindlessly keeping his hand on your bandaged thigh, which you realize was probably taken care of by him.

"....sorry..." you mumble quietly, barely audible.

"you better be, you could've made this case go fully to shit" Dean snaps back. he doesn't mean it, you tell yourself, he's just worried.

you manage to stay quiet and composed the whole ride back to the shitty motel, keeping your eyes trained out the window to prevent yourself from crying, which Sam, being as caring as he is, notices.

once your back, Dean tells you both to go back inside to the motel room, and he'll get some chinese food.

you stumble back inside, Sam right behind you and locking the door behind you two.

"you okay?" he asks hesitantly. he feels like shit. he shouldn't have let you walk up those stairs third, it should've been him, he should've been the one who got hurt, not you.

you try to respond, but the words die on your tongue as you feel a lump form in your throat, and your eyes tear up.

you try to blink the tears away, though Sam has already noticed them, and crossed the room in a few strides and wrapped his arms around your waist.

trying to blink away the tears doesn't work, it just makes them fall as you start crying, wrapping your arms around Sam just as he wraps his around you, hiding your face in his chest.

he can't help but tear up aswell, both in relief that your ok and in sadness of you feeling like this and having to deal with both the scare of getting swinged at with an axe and having to deal with his brother's shit.

"its okay, you're okay, we're all okay..." he murmurs shakily, trying to reassure the both of you.

[lixisere777]

Drabble 02: Amidst the shadows and rain, there's Jungkook who becomes your sun instead

Wc: 2.7k

Mentions of: ocean water, crying, stress, knives and a bulgar (nothing happens), a bit suggestive, kissing and I think that's it?

Note: I've been working on this for months, it feels nice to finally get it done. I wanted to finish it especially now to comfort us after Jungkook left so aaah >.<. Hope you enjoy!

_________________________________________

The long, hectic week was finally catching up to you. You were exhausted, anxious, irritated and just in need of a warm cuddle session with your lovely boyfriend. One would think you felt relieved at this moment—now that this hectic week has come to an end—, but it felt like you were just destined for worse. Everything was going wrong, nothing went the way you planned it to. Now that it was finally over you expected to be greeted by the feeling of relief, but alas even on your way home, you were not left alone by the grip of misfortune clinging to you. It suddenly started raining and since the bus you wanted to take decided to be a no-show you had to walk home. Without a jacket. Great.

It wasn't raining that hard so you thought it didn't matter, but you arrived home in soaking wet clothes anyway after a car passing by caused a wave of dirty water to splash your way. You could cry. If you didn't turn out sick the next morning, it'd be a miracle. 

A week full of stress had just ended, but you couldn't seem to get rid of every gnawing feeling that it left behind. You just want to take your mind off of things. When you entered the door to your shared apartment, you wanted nothing more than to be greeted by his beautiful face stretched out into that famous bunny smile you loved so much. But of course —since nothing was in your favor—you arrived to the deafening silence of Jungkook's absence. 

You were planning on dumping your soaked body on top of him and ignoring all of your worries, but even that you can’t get. 

With a heavy sigh you peeled off your clothes and put them in the laundry basket, jumping in the shower right after to try to wash away the weight on your shoulders. 

—

You jumped awake at the loud clatter coming from the kitchen. Instead of reacting like a normal human being and hiding, you started yelling with your eyelids still stuck together—the drowsiness refusing to escape you. Grabbing the first thing you could find on the couch you fell asleep on, the huge rainbow-colored hello kitty plushie you were cuddling with, you tried forcing your eyes open. You yelled, "Who's there?” pointing the innocent plushie towards the source of the sound. 

A fit of giggles replaced the sound of the echo your voice left behind, probably mocking your messy bed hair and unusual weapon. You frowned, a pout appearing on your face as you realized your lover was the one to awaken you so rudely from the magical dream you had just a few seconds ago. 

“Do you expect a plushie to protect you from a burglar?”, he approached you after picking up the empty bowl he dropped.

“Well what do you expect me to do when the burglar is in the kitchen, where all the knives are, and my boyfriend isn’t there to protect me?”, the pout never left your face. 

His tattooed hand went through your head to try and smooth down the mess your pillow had created. He didn’t mean to but he got so lost in the look in your eyes and the feeling of your hair against his hand, that he forgot to form a response. You didn’t mention it though, the fond smile on his face and his gentle touch on yours fill your heart with warmth in ways you could never have dreamed of before.

You did however miss the sound of his voice, too soon to your liking, so you spoke up anyway, just to hear him speak. 

“When did you get home, anyway?” This time, your hand was the one to reach towards his body. Your fists bawling around his loose shirt, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“Not too long ago, didn’t wanna wake you”, the sweet sound of his voice reached your ears again. The muscles on your face contract, trying to hide the involuntary smile that tried to betray your unsatisfied yearning for Jungkook's attention

You sigh, giving in and pulling his body close to yours. Your arms wrap tightly around his waist, your head rests on his chest and all negative feelings flood from your body. A sound of relief escaped you. You could cry. But this time it’s because your heart is so full of love, so full of love you were afraid it would burst and lose all the love you’ve stored in there just for him. 

“Are you okay, baby?” His voice faltered with concern. Nonetheless he hugged you back as you felt his arms snake around your neck.

“Just a hectic day—”, your stream of words got interrupted by the single tear falling from your eye, you had to stop talking or you knew you’d burst out in tears. You wanted to tell him so badly, tell him; “who am I kidding, this whole week has been holding me by my throat and I still can’t seem to find a way to loosen its grip.” But you didn’t want to break down in tears in front of him. Not when he was probably having a more challenging week than you could ever handle. Truly, could you ever complain about your life knowing his everyday is way harder?

“Oh no, baby don’t cry.” You were a bit shocked, but how could you be? Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself. Is it scary that he can recognize the slightest change in your tone and behavior so easily? Maybe. But do you love him all the more for it? Definitely. 

He started swaying you both to the side, knowing how you liked to be cradled. It was an unconscious habit of yours whenever you couldn’t sleep or felt uneasy. Over the years, he had also adopted your silly little habit and now he couldn't hold you without swaying you anymore.

“Hmm, you know what? Tomorrow I have a day off. What if we spend it at the beach?” He sighed, placing his head on top of yours, plans for the day filling his mind already. “We could bring a cloth and sit by the shore an—oh!” His excitement got the best of him as another string of ideas flooded his mind. “And we can bring some snacks and some stuff we could do. We can paint, play lego or play board games. I can think of so many things!” 

You just giggled to yourself, the dried-up tears on your face long forgotten. “I’m all in. I just wanna see the sunset,” you croaked out a response.

“Anything for my baby,” he spoke, kissing your forehead when you finally removed your head from his now slightly damp shirt to look him in the eyes. But you weren’t planning on settling for a simple kiss on the head, so you pouted your lips, non-verbally asking for a proper kiss on the lips. And he complied—with the biggest lovesick smile on his face.

—

The smell of Jungkook's cooking skills flooded your nostrils and your mouth started to water. After the long day you just had, a warm meal is everything else you craved. 

"What are you doing?," his voice was filled with amusement. Since you weren't much of a good cook yourself, you decided that your antics in the kitchen should be entertaining—or distracting—the chef at work. This time that amusement contained sitting so close to him he could barely reach for the spoon to mix the ingredients and your hair almost slipped into the pot he was so desperately trying to steer.

When you decided to sit by the kitchen counter with your laptop, you thought you could continue your schoolwork while being in the detoxing atmosphere that Jungkook provided. But the thought of studying vanished your mind as soon as his sleeves rolled up and his hair got tied into a manbun. 

You tried so hard to stop your teeth from biting down on your bottom lip, but should you even be willing to hide the effect Jungkook has on you? Sure he teases you about it and sure you're a little stubborn, but how can you ignore such a sight. 

“You want to hear a secret?”, you whispered in his ear as his hand reached for your hair, making sure it didn't dip into the food. Yet his heart was beating against his ribcage, what are you planning? 

“I never thought watching you cook for me could get me so turned on,” and as if your comment wasn't wild enough to drive him crazy, you didn't miss the chance to graze your lips against his skin. Not enough to be a kiss, but also not enough to be a mere brush of innocent affection. 

"Fuck–, baby—, you can't say things like that!,” he groaned, aggressively stirring the pot, making you giggle. 

When you didn't say anything and nonchalantly returned to your schoolwork he decided to speak up again. “You're acting like you've never watched me cook before,” he says in a rather mocking way, but you laugh at that, enjoying the reactions you get out of him. 

“Just because I don’t always show it, doesn’t mean I don't feel it,” you wink at him, shrugging your shoulders like you confessed the most normal thing on earth. 

He couldn’t hold in his smile, his expression of amusement quickly turned into a smirk, remembering all the moments you were extra touchy in the kitchen. He took a mental note to always make you watch him cook from now on.

—

“Baby, did you pack the towels?,” Jungkook asked softly, trying to start up a conversation. The car ride to the beach was awfully quiet. Normally you were very talkative when you were going to the beach, too excited for all the things you would do. It was one of the things you loved most in the world of course, and Jungkook knew that, so he couldn’t help but worry about your silence. 

The pounding in your head however made you unable to think straight. You took an aspirin this morning, hoping to redeem the aches in your body. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to notice and spend his day off taking care of you. So you kept it to yourself. You couldn't stay in and sit in your flu, or whatever it decided to be, you needed to get out of your head. 

“Yeah, I put it in my bag,” you sighed as your head came in contact with the cold window of the passenger seat in his car, your shoulders sagging in relief. His hand squeezed your thigh in worry, he knew there was something wrong. 

“Baby, we’re here,” he shook your sleeping body. The ride to the beach wasn't that long, but the never-ending headache made you close your eyes a little too long. 

The sudden excitement that flew through your body at the thought of finally spending a carefree day at the beach got knocked out of you as soon as you looked out of the car window. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you almost yelled in annoyance towards the raindrops landing on your face as you got out of the car. You made sure to check the weather report every hour of the day ever since last night and it still managed to rain today. It made you more frustrated than you could imagine. You could cry.

“___, baby...,” he looked at you with pity. Carefully approaching you to avoid you getting even more upset. 

Your teary eyed face faced his sympathetic one. The looks you were exchanging saying it all. You expected him to comfort you, hug you, offer to sit in the backseat instead and rest. But Jungkook always seems to surprise you, even when you know how spontaneous he is. 

“What are you doing?!”, you shrieked as you felt the ground under your feet disappear. Jungkook carried you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and your eyes widened, feeling overly exposed with your ass up in the air.

Like he could sense your discomfort he twisted your body around to carry you bridal style. Your wide eyes gazed into his excited ones. You immediately shook your head when that mischievous glint in his eyes and that childlike smile on his face made you realize what he was planning to do.

Despite your panicked protests he threw caution to the wind and started running towards the beach with you screaming in his arms.

“Jeongguk, if you fucking drop me I will—!,” you yelled at him punching his chest, but he silenced you with a kiss. 

“I won’t,” he reassured you, making you blush.

So you just let him. Let him run into the deserted beach, towards the water, with the biggest smile on your face because Jungkook always knew what to do to make you smile again. He always knew what to do to make you fall deeper in love with him. 

You gasped loudly as Jungkook entered the water—fully clothed. He ran past the shore, his favorite boots getting wet, but he didn't care. He kept running however, so far that his entire lower body had entered the water. He knelt down, you being in his arms getting completely engulfed by the cold water. This way he avoided getting his own upper body wet. You panicked, swimming out of his grip to look at him with an angry expression. But your face didn't match your feelings, or so you thought, the broad smile on your face betraying you.

“Jeongguk! You said you wouldn’t drop me!,” you splashed a bunch of water his way making him duck down to avoid getting his hair wet. 

“I didn’t drop you, I just dipped you in,” he shrugged, making you scoff. Another wave of water was thrown his way, this time he couldn’t dodge it in time, the water hitting him straight in the face. 

“Oh now you're asking for it,” he strides towards you, his arms ready to engulf you and body slam you into the water but you’re too quick.

What was supposed to be a relaxing day at the beach ended up turning into a chaotic water fight. And even though you were sick, the cold water felt rather healing as well as spending time with Jungkook did. You must look like reckless children to onlookers, but you haven’t had this much fun in a while, so you decided to not care. 

—

“You should've told me you weren't feeling well,” you smoothed the frown between his brows out with your thumb, smiling brightly. You were now in the backseat of his car, both of you covered with the towels you brought earlier to lay down on the sand. You were basically sitting on top of him, having persuaded him with the argument that you needed his body warmth to warm up quicker.

“Then I wouldn't have such a fun day… Besides I think I'm feeling better already,” he pouted at you, not believing your words for a second. After getting out of the water you couldn’t stop shivering and what he thought was only natural turned concerning when he found you coughing and sneezing as well.

He held your hands in his, looking into your eyes, feeling guilty for noticing how bad you were feeling earlier. Blaming him was never in your agenda though, he made you feel healthier than you actually were in his presence. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me are you?” he looked down at your slumped figure leaning on him, your full body weight on top of his.

“Uhuh,” you responded, snuggling further into his embrace. He smiled, not minding it one bit if you decided to sleep for hours on end. He’d stay right there, in the back of his car, thinking about all the things he can do later today to make you feel better. Because that’s what Jungkook did best. Love you unconditionally and brighten up your days. 

He planted one final kiss on the top of your head, telling you goodnight, unaware of your lingering wakefulness. You think you might love him a little too much, you could cry.

[bullet-prooflove]

Help Wanted - Bottles x Reader

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @darqchilddaydreamz @the-person-in-the-circle @librarian1002 @prettyinpunk85 @thanossexual @@littlestroman @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @lunamoon @s1lverhand @wakeama @adaydreamaway08

When your dad gets sick you pull away from him. Bottles isn’t sure if it’s a self defence mechanism, if you need the brain space or what. All he knows is that you aren’t around, and that you stop picking up his calls. When he goes past your house, it’s dark and locked up. It goes on for a few weeks. The two of you have only been together a few months but the idea of you in pain wounds him, your absence in his life cuts deep.

When he does catch up with you it’s at the supermarket of all places. It’s ridiculous how something as normal as buying toilet roll can turn into a twist of fate. He isn’t looking where he’s going when he comes around the corner of an aisle, and he bumps into you literally. He knows it’s you before he even registers your face, the recognition is instinctive at this point, he’s attuned to your presence. He catches the scent of your perfume, sensual and soft with a hint of mandarin.

You look tired, your hair is pulled back into messy bun and looks like it hasn’t been washed for days. Your face is gaunt and there’s dark shadows underneath your eyes. You are far from the vibrant girl he knows and loves, and it kills him.

“Talk to me.” He requests his hand coming to rest upon your arm, his thumb chasing over the hollow of your wrist. “As a friend, as a lover, I don’t care what.”

It’s at a table, in the outdoor seating area of the café next door, that the whole thing comes pouring out of you. Your dad’s been sick for a while, longer than you realised and you don’t have time anything else in your life right now.

It had started with him calling you at odd hours to ask when Family Fortunes was on, something that he had never done before. Bottles remembers these phone calls vividly, because they always seemed to occur around a similar time on a Saturday. Your phone would ring and the two of you would look at the clock and he’d say “It’s your dad” without even looking at the call display.

At first you had thought he was just lonely, your job as an events manager kept you busy especially with the Santo Padre Summer Festival on the cards. Then one day you’d popped over and discovered he’d had a mini stroke. He’d lost movement in his left hand, he could barely hold the remote, his memory was shot to shit, and he was asking where your mother was despite the fact, she had passed away five years earlier. It was soul destroying.

You are one of the strongest people he knows, so when you start to cry it breaks something deep down inside of him. He shifts seats to the one alongside of you and wraps his arms around you because this shit is far too much for one person to bear. He holds you close as you sob into his chest, cradling you close.

He knows a thing or two about being exhausted and overwrought, how it feels like a weight bearing down on you. After his father died of an opioid overdose, his mother hadn’t been able to get out of bed for weeks. His relationship with both of his parents had been fraught, but he had spent that time taking care of her. He made sure she ate, that she had company and little by little he’d helped pull her out of the depression until she had started to function again. He knows that this shit isn’t easy. That between your job and caring for your father you’re wearing yourself down, he can see in your eyes how your struggling to cope.

“Let me help.” He asks you. “Please just let me help you.”

He must catch you in a moment of complete weakness because you agree.

The first time Bottles turns up at your father’s house, the old man thinks he’s one of the in-house nurses that he’s managed to run off. There’s been a couple of them so far and none of stuck around more than a few days. After spending a couple of hours with your father he can see why.

He’s a veteran, he used to be a Captain. People like that hate anyone to seeing them vulnerable, so they lash out. Bottles thinks that’s part of the reason he didn’t tell you about the mini stroke in the first place, he didn’t want to shift this burden onto your shoulders.

Albert or rather Bertie, is not kind with his words but Bottles has lived through worse. He’s entire life has been far from a walk in the park and he’s now a Prospect in the Mayans. Your father is a cake walk compared to that. He isn’t sure how it happened but the three of you slip into a routine. You’ve taken as many days as you can away from work, so Bottles steps in to cover the time you’re away. He cooks for Bertie, he helps bathe him, cleans him up and changes the sheets if he doesn’t make it to the bathroom in time, he does as much of the heavy lifting as he can until Bertie starts to get a little better.

When you come home, he shoots out and deals with club business. At night, he curls up around you in your single bed, holding your close and whispering tender words into your ear until you fall sleep, surrounded by Blink 182 posters and Evanescence playing on the C.D player because he’d forgotten that they’d even existed. He switches it up with a couple of Green Day C.Ds after he’s flicked through your collection.

“There’s no money you know.” Bertie tells him one day when the two of them are in the living room watching Family Fortunes. It takes Bottles a minute to understand what he’s saying. “She doesn’t get much if I die. That’s why you’re here isn’t it?”

“I’m not here for the money.” He informs Bertie as he raises to his feet and collects Bertie’s bowl from the tray set across his lap and places it inside his own. “I’m here for her, to make sure she takes care of herself.”

“I used to take care of her and now she takes care of me, how fucked up is that?” Bertie says in a rare moment of clarity. “I fucking hate it.”

Bottles can understand that. Parents are God in the eyes of children, and this is what happens when you realise that they’re just mere mortals like the rest of you. He knows how jarring this whole experience has been for you, and for Bertie. Confronting your own mortality changes you, he knows, he spent his entire childhood, thinking he was going to die every time he went under the knife because a child with a disability wasn’t good enough for his parents. He sets the bowls down on the floor beside his usual chair before sitting down again.

“I had forty-six surgeries by the time I was eighteen,” He confides to Bertie, pulling up his trouser leg and showing your father his scars embedded deep within the tissue of his leg. “Suffering isn’t new to me, you can’t imagine the shit I’ve gone through, and I can’t imagine the shit you are going through but I know what it’s like to feel like your life isn’t your own, to feel frustrated by your own capabilities.”

 “I don’t want this for her.” Bertie tells Bottles.  “I don’t want her putting her life on hold to take care of me and I don’t want to end up in one of those homes where they feed you gruel and leave you to die alone in a bedroom where the curtains are still drawn because nobody bothered to open them.”

“I hear you.” Bottles says. “It’s fucking depressing.”

“So, what are my options?” Bertie asks him. “I rely on my daughter and her… What even are you?”

Bottles shrugs his shoulders because truthfully the two of you have never really put a label on it.  All he knows is he’s committed to you; he has been since the moment he kissed you on your doorstep.

“The man who loves your daughter.”

“Boyfriend? Partner? The guy who hoses me down when I make a mess of myself?”

Bottles finds himself smiling before he shrugs his shoulders.

“All of the above.”

“I’m serious when I’m asking you what my options are.” Bertie informs him, his gaze straying back to the T.V. “I need to start figuring shit out before I start losing my marbles and the decision is taken away from me.”

“I could find out.” Bottles offers as he leans in close. It feels like the two of them are engaging in a conspiracy, because the both of them know that the idea of putting your father in a home is not something you agree with. “One of the guys in my club, his mom has memory issues. She started to fall down a lot. He managed to get her into this sweet place up by the community centre. She loves it there, she’s made a lot of friends, there’s all these clubs she goes too, they do some pretty cool shit. I could look into it for you?”

Bertie reaches across the space between the two of them, his strong hand grasping Bottles’.

“Could you?” Bertie requests before he tilts his head to the bedroom door where you’re sleeping. “I have a feeling we’re gonna have a fight on our hands.”

"I'll talk to her." Bottles promises the older man. "See if we can't all get on the same page."

Love Bottles? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Wanna read more? Check out Bottle's Masterlist here!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[thebunnycruise]

Less of a question and more of a comment, Im sorry if its in the wrong spot lol, I just had to say this. I promise it’s not a hate comment, and sorry for the length.

I have never in my life seen something that has made me feel so physically ill. I feel genuinely sick reading this, and mentally exhausted from it. I have never read anything that has ever made me want to do something about these topics so badly. I hate this comic, and feel every fiber of my body crumble that I can’t do anything to help these women. It’s such an uncomfortable and painful feeling to see such heinous acts being done to people who i know are just down on their luck and never deserved this. I hate to sound cliche, but this was the eye opener of the fucking century.

You should be proud of your work, you’re doing something that I haven’t ever seen work as effectively and as potently as this.

One question I guess; I unfortunately can’t donate, but what else could us readers do? This comic destroyed me and I’m genuinely desperate at this point to see some happy ending come out of this, and I don’t know what I can do.

Thank you for this question! And sorry for ruining your mood, I think... TL/DR: Giving a shit is free. I recall this one lady being interviewed by a local news reporter regarding her views on the homeless problem in her neighbourhood, and she said something that stuck in my mind: "The more I have to [pick up] human feces, the less empathy I have." I think that one comment really hit home why we're at this point in society. People connect with the characters on the Bunny Cruise because we see their backstories, how they got to where they are, what they've lost along the way, what they dream of for the future, and how they've suffered in trying to reach for that dream. But, even though we know the guy OD'ing on the sidewalk passed out in his own sick must have had a life, have dreams, it's not something we think of in the moment. The difference between the Cruise and real life is that the girls have each other to support them through it, but we will walk over or side-step the heroin addict on the sidewalk without a second glance. That "mentally drained" and "physically ill" feeling is the cognitive dissonance talking. It's when we're forced to confront an perspective that challenges our way of thinking, or in this case, face a fear that perhaps the only difference between us and 67, 10, the twins, or that guy on the sidewalk, is just pure luck. For a lot of us, this is something very uncomfortable, and it's much easier to put it out of our heads and move on with our lives. And politicians take advantage of this fear and apathy far too often. Famously, Mark Sutcliffe (Calling you out, asshole), the recently elected Mayor of Ottawa, campaigned on zoning land for more large, single-family homes rather than more compact, affordable housing. He called it "preserving the community and keeping it safe", but we all know what that really means by now. Or they will call for increased police spending and promise to be tougher on crime (which Sutcliffe also did). Because having bad luck or being neglected and abused by capitalism is a crime now... I think the easiest thing to do, is to just think about it, and speak up when the issue comes up. All too often, things like homeless shelters, affordable housing projects, and safe injection sites, don't get built because people don't want to think about the people living on the fringe of society. But the thing is, people with nowhere to go have to go somewhere.

I donate to a women's shelter because I've worked with women fleeing violence in the past, and it's an important cause for me. I also realize that I am in a very fortunate position to be able to pay rent and have a little left over to put toward charity work. But speaking up and spreading the word is free. The next time someone wants to veto a safe injection site project, speak up against them, ask them what millionaire real estate firm is lining their pockets. Vote for that city councilor campaigning to build shelters and affordable homes. Have a relative who says "the homeless deserve what's happening to them"? Shut them down, ruin that christmas dinner. They sound like a dick anyway.

It's not much, but I think if we can all treat our fellow humans a little better instead of kicking them to the curb, we can make a bit of a difference in the world.

[glassjoe]

I saw your post hihihi, could you write some Aran X reader headcanons? (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠) Like how Aran would act in front of his beloved when he realised he has a crush on them?

hihi ! sorry this took a while, im a slow writer & ive been busy lol

okay so. tried my best. i went with the idea of reader/beloved being someone who works for the wvba but isnt a boxer, left it unspecific.

first few bullets are pre-crush/general hc stuff, then the stuff u actually asked for happens. im still figuring out how i wanna characterise these fucks so if it seems odd or ooc please lmk

aran ryan with a crush | headcanons! gn reader

cw brief mention of alcohol and vomiting. nothing huge, just mentioned in passing but slapped this here anyway. also penultimate bullet point is a bit sexual but again only brief, u can skip over it

Emotions aren't Aran's strong point. Most complex feelings he has are released in the ring--he finds bloody noses and bruised stomachs are far more interesting conversation partners anyway--and the ones that stay rooted deep in his belly are routinely sweat out or lost in the haze of a night on the town. Rinse and repeat ad nauseum. Wallowing in it helps no one, after all.

But sometimes, a feeling in his gut won't get chased away as easily as, say, guilt or grief. A stubborn sort of stabbing, not unlike himself, gets tangled in his belly, too stuck for his stomach acid to burn through when wild nights come back for seconds.

As much as his thick skull in the ring would have you think otherwise, he's not dense. He knows what crushes are, had more than enough in secondary school, and he's not oblivious to it nor the source. He doesn't even know you *that* well--yet--but that's never stopped the heart from wanting.

cont under cut

There's no real "moment" he realises, no build-up, just sitting exhausted after a match well-won, and being now too tired to now fight the butterflies swarming his stomach or stop his eyes from following you as you pass by with a clipboard. He hides his gaze with a swig of water, drinking a bit more aggressively than he needs to and spills half of it, and by the time he recovers you've disappeared. The buzz in his gut doesn't fade, just deflates, and his hand meets his sodden hair with a half-hearted groan. Fuck.

For a while, he tries to shove it down. Where knuckles and bottles don't work, brute force emotional repression just might. "Not ready" to be tossed into dealings of love again, he'll try convince himself. Should that fail it's "Grown men don't have silly little crushes, make a move or get over yourself."

He's not as good at hiding his emotions as he'd have himself think. Just as he can't help a cruel grin in the ring, smiles find their way onto his face before he has a chance to realise he's pleased. What he intends to be a subtle smolder looks more like a hyena after a successful hunt, toothy and wide, with red blood swapped for rosy cheeks. Of course, he then attempts to recoup and snap his head away with an exaggerated frown, leaving you to wonder if he was happy to see you or wants to devour you.

Its embarrassing. He feels like a fawn, unable to properly control himself or function as soon as you step in the room. He swears all he has to do is smell you and his heart spikes not that he'd know what you smell like.

Pre-match, he doesn't want to see you. Or during, really. This suffocating adoration that came from nowhere has choked him enough to messing up in the lowest stake situations--he still gets teased over the time he intended to pass you your drink and full-hand knocked it over in his flushed haste--he doesn't want to risk it coming to bite him when it really matters. He makes a point to not provoke the audience close to staff, at risk of seeing your face--perhaps disappointed, perhaps amused--and throwing his game off.

And in turn, post-match is his favourite time to see you. Though Aran Ryan being calm will happen when pigs fly, the rush of a bout serves well to at least temper his energy a bit. Not as erratic, or bouncy, and a bit more in control of himself. Plus any fuckups can be blamed on muscle fatigue. You dote on him as best you can, he's noticed. Asking if he needs anything, offering to ease the strain rippling under his skin... Another bonus of being all tuckered is his face already being red and sweaty, so he's in no rush to hide flush that creeps up his neck as you fuss over him.

He'll make a show, teasing you for wanting to help, and as subtly as he can try to delve a little deeper, find out more about yourself. Whether you're working his wounds or jotting down on a clipboard, your company is exhilarating. It makes him giggle laugh. The insane cackle of a man has never sounded so nervous.

As he learns about you, as you grow closer and start meeting outside of designated hours, he feels both at ease and more tense. Scared of scaring you off, as he often finds he does, but he still won't dial himself back for your sake. Wants you to see him bear all and like him anyway. So he checks. He does what he wants, does his best to not act too different where it matters, and simply... checks. Waits for your reaction. His intention is to see if he should pursue, so to speak, that you simply enjoy him and his company regardless of his reputation or persona or who he is on a genuine level. As well as if, yeah, he didn't need to yell at that guy like that, that was just uncalled for. He's perhaps not the best judge on that end, though.

Speaking of trying not to act different, well, everyone acts a fool in love. He can certainly try, but an early 20s man in a male-dominated sport? There's at least a few masculinity issues trailing aftet him. He can't help but puff his chest out like a bird of paradise when you compliment him, or flex his arm when you so much as graze it. Simply can't stop himself from saying how he could protect you if you're walking through a forest, or wanting to compare hand sizes, regardless of your size compared to him.

Aran Ryan is still Aran Ryan. While there is an extent of not wanting to scare you off, he's not holding back on the name-calling or insults, no mattet how playful. He may dig too deep into genuinely sensitive areas though. Maybe he's still in denial about this, trying to prove it to himself. Or he's just not that great at boundaries.

He's nearly tripped over his own feet several times. One time you managed to grab his hoodie only to also fall onto his back. Nearly died, he swears. Cushioned your fall quite nicely at least. He'll want to make a lewd joke about it, but gets embarrassed as it leaves his mouth because he gets a mental image so it descends into stuttering and ends up insulting you instead to cover himself. Brilliant work Ryan really making yourself look great.

Aran's a mess of a man. He's all over the place. Stuck between wanting to impress you and staying true to himself unabashedly, and he finds doing both is very difficult. Past lovers compounded that. And as long as his affections remain unrequited or secret, that's not really going to change easily. Maybe its comfort he needs, or just a helping hand. Maybe you should say something...

GOD im so sorry this is SO all over the place i qrote this over several days so my flow wasnt there and i dont wanna put too much effort into thesee. i. need to write down how i charactetise these guys stat so im uh sorry if this is shit. i would have a nicer ending to out a ribbon on but idk how to end bullet point hc stuff so. enjoyyy

AND TY FOR REQUESRTING !!! as much as im bitching this was fun to do !!! and also feel free to send more of these in !! i can do more like this or i can do thise ones that like its a scenario and all the boxers react to it those seem fun

[calebwittebane]

so fucking funny when my brain is like. hey bitch. i see youre going to sleep well heres the thing. im gonna give you some dreams now. picture this. imagine youre staying in a truly bizarre, labyrinth-like hotel thats not even rly divided into rooms, its just like, heres your pile of shit, loose furniture, make yourself at home. anyway theres creatures roaming the place. they can stun you and cause you profound pain. ohh yeah reminder you feel pain in dreams. full sensory experience. remember that. anyway you contact the hotel owner to gently point out a civil engineering safety regulation issue in the building (unrelated to the already mentioned flaws). he seems grateful. it hurts you when you try to speak, btw.

there are, also, flocks of small birds stuck in time, everywhere, dont touch them or theyll crash into what from their perspective is a solid object moving at light speed, and theyll be obliterated. okay so the hotel owner is like thanks for the tip i will get that checked out. Surprise! youre a demon whos been on the run. the hotel owner is your uncle and also a demon hunter whos been Waiting for you. you were supposed to be outside of the solar system, but looks like not only were you paying a visit to earth, you were foolish and arrogant enough to disguise yourself as a human and pull this kind of stupid stunt! well, thats not fucking good.

you dont know what he plans to do, so you do your best to escape His Twisted Hotel Realm. its not easy, but thanks to your ability to fly and to briefly become invisible and able to phase through solid matter, you manage to get out. youre out in the city now. its a Twisted Fucked Up version of warsaw. i mean like Continent Sized. whatever. youre gonna try to get to a train station and then figure out the rest. you take off flying in a direction that seems right.

well, flying is hard. its tiresome. and there are power lines everywhere. get above the power lines level you idiot. oh oops theyre at Every Altitude. gotta make sure you dont fly into them. so dont fly too fast. but you have to maintain a good speed, otherwise youll lose lift. oough oof ouch, you touched some of those wires, that sure hurt! well, this will be an ordeal.

oh geeze! it seems like youve flown into Gargantuan Horrifying Industrial Zone. its the part of the city thats all Mind Bendingly Huge machinery, excavators, pipes, endless fields of moving parts, saws, pumps, i mean theres nowhere to land. theres like, Walking Coal Excavators. walking moving coal plants. huge collapsing exploding structures--everything is so gargantuan, red-hot, horrible and dangerous, theres shit exploding and collapsing all the time. there are fires everywhere. oil spilling. toxic smoke. and of course power lines at every altitude. and enormous moving parts. well good luck flying through this Zone.

oh well! you try. you have powers after all. you try to fly through this Zone. a walking power plant almost crushes you with its incomprehensibly huge, rusty, titan limbs and machinery. maintaining invincibility while flying is Really hard and at a certain level of exhaustion its likely to malfunction, and if it does at a bad moment, youll be obliterated painfully.

well it happens. it hurts. but instead of dying you clip thru the ground into Huge Underground Tunne Network where the workers live and work and navigate the place. you try to hide in storages and unused tunnels and shit, but thing is, due to how Enormous all the shit upstairs is, the whole tthing is like a living organism. when a walking coal plant passes above, the tunnels contract and loosen up and give in, and some of them get squeezed completely. the workers know how to navigate this, but you dont, so you get painfully squished by a contracting tunnel. youre too exhausted to turn invincible.

well you decide trying to blend in is your best chance. best you can do with how tired you are is take the form of a young worker and pretend to be a new guy. some other workers (theyre all like combination coal miners and prisoners) immediately fall in love with you and try to hook up with you. you accept their advances to get information. they tell you about a train line running thru the zone that can take you to the outskirts. next one is tomorrow. you accept that as your best bet. after hours of grueling work and a painful experience all around, you get on the train. its old and falling apart. hard to tell where its going exactly. it breaks down. youre stranded. where are you? you dont know.

ugh! this wouldnt be happening if you werent a demon. which btw other workers figured out that you are. they start drowning you in a bucket of water. you start laughing at them. its not funny. you hurt all over. you want to die, but you never will. youre cursed to live through your own painful horrifying death endlessly, over and over.

also youre 10 and your parents are fighting

[drpeppertummy]

current Details on rufus & russell (i still might change my mind on the names but at this point i probably wont) not kink-related just General Shit

ok so first off since Hell exists in whatever universe i have going on i have to give my little rundown on what goes on there

so like it Is an otherworldly plane and people Can go there when they die but its not like Solely Devoted To Afterlife Shit its more like. if someone goes to hell for bein bad or whatever, their soul or whatever has to go there for counseling/rehab/courses/etc to help them get their shit together & hopefully teach them to do better on the next run. & people who arent responsive to that dont get released until they get it together so theyre Stuck There In Hell. & there are a lot of centers for that but its also like just some place. its like "oh im visiting the east coast bc they got good pizza" "oh im visiting hell bc they got good Soul Counselors" like its their Thing. its their Main Export or whatever. like theres only so many places where dead people can actually go to & be universally seen & recognized (as opposed to here where barely anyone can see em). & then they can get reincarnated or whatever

i think its like a stereotype that people from hell work as counselors but also it Is a very common job there. & since its such a common job there & they take it pretty seriously as Their Thing & its a very respected job, most places are really well staffed so they usually have pretty good hours. no eternal shifts or anything. it can be super exhausting tho esp emotionally & sometimes physically. can even be dangerous its not without risk of harm

rufus & russell are both counsellors & theyre really good at that sort of thing bc theyre both like friendly & patient & understanding & warm etc. theyre both real sweet paternal types. they put people at ease. they dont work at the same place tho

theyre both around 500 (equivalent of like 40-50 in human years) & they have a few kids ranging from the human equivalent of maybe 10 at the youngest to early 20s at the oldest. im on the fence about whether the baby currently in rufus' belly is actually theirs or if hes doing like a surrogacy thing for a younger friend. which is something hes done a couple times since he takes it like a champ, although since people in hell vary wildly in shape, size, etc (not everybody can pass for human. some of them are like jersey devil-type shit. some of them are 10 feet tall. some of them are like giant lobsters. anything is possible) & it isnt always determined solely by genes sometimes it can be rough on him bc Hes Just A Little Guy

russell (tall one) is a big softie & he lovess being mushy romantic & dancing in the kitchen & all that stuff. i think he has kind of a grandmacore thing goin on he loves cute knickknacks & decorative pillows & shit. they both love cooking & taking care of each other & taking care of their friends & neighbors & loved ones. theyre always baking cookies for people & shit. theyre the go-to if someone needs a babysitter. their kids friends always feel safe at their house. theyre real involved with school activities. theyre just all around Good Loving Dads

also one of russells nicknames for rufus is Fussy bc 1. its short for rufus and 2. Hes Always Fussin Over Shit. & they both purr

[f1rewalk3r]

Holy fuck just passed out at 8pm for 3 hours and had a weird Otherverse dream. guess i was exhausted after my gig?

it’s worth noting my condition: I fell asleep on my couch, fully clothed in a super slutty outfit, with boots AND long underwear on. i was sitting up, and fighting off the sleep was impossible. maybe because i woke up early sunday and didnt catch up on enough sleep?

i had a lot of dreams but the end is what i remember: i was with my band and we were heading up this hill. he was telling us about the rules of this competition, where you build a tiny shitty shack and then invite the fae in try and fuck with you and you have to try and stay in the house; if you survive 3 days, you won a big prize.

we were off to attempt this competition and met the coordinators who shower us other house attempts and then we started to build our own, it was super frat-bro energy and i didn’t like the organizers.

at one point i made a joke that i was probably going to kill myself doing this. now i say this phrase a lot irl. because (1) duh and (2) its fucking funny and (3) rings true, or else it wouldn’t be a meme phrase.

but in the dream, everyone recoiled and reacted in shock. “what the fuck, why would you say that,” etc. it was so bad i pulled my trump card, which i literally almost never play irl. “omg im so sorry idk why i did i have adhd sometimes things just slip out.”

i also thought it was because i wasnt drunk, which was like. again a key part of this frat bro competition. so i had to BUY a drink from one of the organizers of the competition. then chug it really fast because i was sad. i ended up spilling a lot. i finally realized that i should probably leave. so i told my band leader that this was his thing, and that i was gonna dip.

as i did, a fairy appeared to me on my walk home! i say fairy- she was much more prototypical tinkerbell then true fae. she kinda looked gross and sticky and snotty, though, and boogers would appear where she stuck her feet.

so booger and i walk downtown and she’s telling me that they suck i’m right never did anything wrong and etc…. we climb up a stream that was flowing down the super inclined sidewalk for some reason. she tells me that as per the rules of the challenge the walls don’t even have to be touching.

so then i suggest that i could own the organization epic style by going around downtown to walls with special directional or spiritual significance/energy and then challenge the fae over a space as big as the whole downtown, and that would make it harder to fuck with me specifically, and i could win the challenge. as she screamed repeatedly in delight and joy, my conscious mind realized she was probably an abyssal being, and that this sounded like a really bad idea actually, and that i should wake up.

and then i ran here to post this! thoughts?

[shyolet]

venting about chronic illness and health stuff

fuck i'm tired, i've been sick every single day for like 5 months now and it's gotten progressively worse to where I'm stuck in bed most days while in severe constant pain. I'm so fatigued and get dizzy and nearly pass out if I only stand up for a little bit, im always cold and cant warm up no matter what i do, i'm dropping weight in part because eating aggravates my pain and it's so hard to force myself to do so when it's often hard to even keep down, and my jaw sometimes aches from clenching it in pain making it hard to chew some days. I know the exhaustion and fatigue are likely due to malnutrition, but fuck it's hard to eat when i'm hurting so badly and hunger pains are a relief in comparison

(tw cancer mention) I have lynch syndrome, which is a genetic disorder that makes it to where my body can't fight off cancer cells the way most can, increasing the risk and rate of growth for most types, so there's a good chance it's cancer. i have a surgery scheduled in 2 months to check, but at this point I think i would feel relieved at it being cancer because at least then i'd know what's going on and what to do >.< this is just miserable

it's made my mental health deteriorate and I find myself being more irritable and exhausted and it's hard to keep in contact with people, not even counting the brain fog that makes the days blend together. I can't enjoy or focus on my hobbies or interests, I can't do anything but really lay down. Just sitting up can leave me winded on my worst days. I feel so burdensome on those around me, I'm entirely dependent now, and am uninsured and even the risk of cancer is expensive as hell.

[sharpen-your-hatchet]

Old Wounds - Wenclair fanfic, chapter 13

Description: Now aged 22, Wednesday Addams is an up-and-coming author. Her time at Nevermore is well behind her, and she is alone, and that suits her just fine...But when a 'new' neighbour shows up in her apartment building, she'll truly be tested on whether her "bad habit" of caring truly has been broken. (Hint: It hasn't.)  

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Teens & Up (subject to change in future)

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x-x-x-x-x-x

Date. 

Date.

D a t e. 

A simple yet powerful word; the word now stuck in Wednesday’s head. Thirty minutes have passed since the phone call with her mother ended, and she finds herself sitting, staring at the ceiling. She should be getting ready… but she’s stuck. Just thinking - Thinking about that ridiculous word. 

Date. 

She and Enid are meeting up. That much is true, but it is NOT a date. It can’t be. They are friends… and barely so, at that. Wednesday cannot even begin to consider anything more than a friendship at this point regardless. It has been a long and painful road to get to where she is and she is already exhausted from navigating it. There are hurdles she has jumped in the last week that she has not approached in years and frankly, it has been quite enough. She is content in approaching this friendship and thinks it silly - nay, insane - to carelessly toss out the word ‘date’ as if it’s just another goal to aspire to. Rest assured, it is not a goal of hers. 

Date. Pfft. 

Wednesday thinks her mother is cruel for putting such a thought into her head. Which is fitting, to be fair. Love and cruelty may as well be one and the same with her family, but this does little to settle the growing frustration at her Mother’s words. Is the constant reminder of her intentions to remain alone not enough? 

Wednesday huffs out a small sigh. 

“This is pointless.” She mumbles to herself. 

And it’s true. Just because they are her mother’s words, does not allow them freedom to writhe under her skin like parasites. It is time for her to ignore it; move forward. 

Wednesday pulls herself from the floor. She traipses around, stringing together an outfit. Her and Enid’s meeting place is a sushi restaurant - Nothing fancy, but certainly more formal than Wednesday’s regular coffee bar. As such, she smartens up a little; redoes her braids, and reapplies her makeup. Casually, of course. Wednesday simply wishes to look presentable; as an Addams, she is always aware of not being underdressed. 

And to reiterate (once again!): It is not a date, and she’s going to stop thinking about it. Wednesday doesn’t want it to be a date, anyway. Courting another person is an old fashioned patriarchal tradition and Wednesday wishes - more than anything - to be as far from such traditions as possible. 

And it is not because it’s Enid. Enid is, by all accounts, an objectively good person. She would perhaps make a good match for anyone - Well, someone who is looking to date, that is. Which Wednesday is not. 

Enid is strong willed, intelligent, and attractive. She will find someone to date in this miserable city soon. Pretty girls like her always find someone to date: no doubt some instagram famous influencer with a million brainless followers. It’s wretched to think about. 

Wednesday blinks back her disgust at the imagery in her head. Enid being the living embodiment of a golden retriever is quite enough; Wednesday cannot stand the thought of another one by her side… 

She glances at herself in the mirror. 

Pale, perfectly symmetrical hair, and not a touch of makeup out of place.

She looks half dead. Like an embalmed corpse prepared for presentation. 

Perfect. 

And as if on cue, a text message pings through to her phone.

‘Hey Wends, im just finishing work! Will b there in 20 mins :)’ 

Wednesday types back a quick reply. 

‘Thank you for the update. I shall prepare to leave.’ 

Wednesday takes one last look in the mirror. Dropping her neutral expression into her signature scowl, she gives a small nod of approval: She’s ready. 

Now, the walk to the restaurant takes approximately 16 minutes by foot. When accounting for her higher than average walk speed, Wednesday knows that means 13 & ½ minutes, so she leaves her apartment promptly to make good time. Her Addams’ family values once again assist her, knowing full well that arriving early is good etiquette. 

The journey itself is uneventful. It’s late and also a weekday so the general day-to-day commuters have long since gone home, meaning the streets are quiet…well, as quiet as New York gets, anyway. Wednesday is glad for it. She finds the crowds excessive. 

Despite the lower foot traffic, Wednesday still gets a chance to play her usual game - picking out faces, envisioning their violent deaths, or tragic backstory for later use in her book. It is a welcome distraction to keep her thoughts from wavering back to the in-depth analysis it had previously stuck itself on. 

Wednesday, in fact, barely registers the distance she’s walked until her feet find themselves coming to a stop outside the buzzing neon sign of the restaurant. 

She pauses, exiting her thoughtful trance. She checks her phone and true to form, 13 & ½ minutes have passed. Perfectly executed. 

She looks around and Enid is nowhere to be seen, so Wednesday takes initiative and heads inside to get a table. 

Once sat, Wednesday notes that the restaurant seems purposefully chosen. It is not excessively bright nor busy - There’s a few quiet patrons scattering the various tables, but they blend into the subtle decor. Wednesday is able to order a drink whilst she waits without any excessive conversation, and as she sips, she feels an appreciation for Enid’s evident care put into her choice of meeting place. 

There’s a subtle warmth in Wednesday’s chest as she considers the effort. Whilst it is a strange feeling, Wednesday is quick to remind herself that this is an effect of friendship. She must grow accustomed to it. 

Enid arrives moments later. She strides into the restaurant looking somewhat weary from what the day has served her, but is still cheery nonetheless. She smiles sweetly at Wednesday and sits down with a relieved sigh. Wednesday does not return the smile. Although, her gaze softens slightly, which may as well be the same thing. 

“Hey Wends,” Enid greets, “I’m so glad I asked you to meet me here, I am starving.”  

“Hello Enid,” Wednesday replies, “Did you have a busy day?” 

It is a thoughtful question; a gentle enquiry into Enid’s day. Though this may seem simple to most, to Wednesday it is perhaps one of the biggest things she has had to re-learn when it comes to caring about another person. It is not enough to simply acknowledge that caring - it must be expressed. Supposedly, most people enjoy being asked about their day. 

Of course, it doesn’t come naturally to Wednesday at all so her tone is stilted, but she has asked all the same. 

Enid notices immediately, and her smile has a hint of something extra that Wednesday cannot discern… she is impressed, perhaps? Wednesday is not sure, but the expression doesn’t seem bad by any means. 

“Yeah it was pretty crazy,” Enid hums, “And y’know, it’s nearly the full moon, so I’m just hungry all the time.”

The conversation doesn’t proceed much further as they are promptly approached by a waitress. The two deliberate their food options briefly before deciding on a platter between them, with some individual side dishes. Whilst Wednesday would not typically choose to share food,  she can only guess it’s more normal for friends to do such things, so she pushes back the minor discomfort. She would not be caught dead doing this for anyone else. 

As the waitress walks away, Enid offers Wednesday an empathetic look. 

“I can tell what you’re doing.” She says knowingly. 

Wednesday’s glances down to stare at the table. Looks like the honesty begins now. That familiar tightness in her chest makes an appearance again - A stark reminder of how she will continue to fight her nature when it comes to sharing her more emotional-leaning thoughts… but she hasn’t spent the last 6 days or so figuring things out for nothing. So she will continue, despite it all. 

“I am attempting to ‘make an effort’.” Wednesday states, “Our conversations over text have been quite informative. Though I neglect to express my inner-most thoughts about it, I would like to succeed in being a good friend this time.” 

Enid breaks out into a smile again. She is shaking her head slightly, as in disbelief.

“I appreciate it… but it’s weird for real, like, who are you and what have you done with Wednesday?” She jokes.  

Wednesday’s expression drops into a death glare. 

“Tell anyone, and I’ll kill you in your sleep.” 

Enid smirks. 

“You got it” She hums. 

There’s a moment of eye contact as Enid - without thinking - places her hand on Wednesday’s. It is a simple affectionate gesture that holds some implication of “your secret is safe with me.” Frankly, it’s nothing out of the ordinary for someone like her…but it is not something Wednesday is able to welcome, let alone reciprocate. It’s too much; too soon. 

Wednesday snatches her hand away; Enid’s eyes bulge in realisation. She blushes furiously, anxiously pulling her hand back to her side of the table.

“Shit- Ah. Right. Not a touchy person. Sorry.” She mumbles. 

Wednesday holds onto the bubble of irritation that follows the interaction. She breathes out a tense breath, steadying herself. She will not snap at her. It isn’t fair if she does - after all,  Enid has been more than patient with her. 

“It was a mistake.” Wednesday acknowledges, “We are still adjusting.” 

Enid visibly relaxes, and her smile creeps back onto her face, albeit shyly. 

“You’re right.” 

There’s a moment of quiet. The waitress brings over Enid’s drink, whilst Wednesday nurses her own. Despite the silence, it is comfortable, as they bathe in the ambience of their surroundings. 

Wednesday admits to herself that it is actually quite pleasant. It seems their communication over the last few days has built a solid foundation between her and Enid - and now, neither of them are scrambling as they had been prior.  

As Enid swallows a mouthful of her drink, she makes a small ‘hmph!’ noise to grab Wednesday’s attention. 

“Y’know, I just realised…I’ve never told you about my job, have I?” Enid asks, frowning slightly in thought. 

Wednesday scowls herself and realises that - in fact - Enid has not. It’s quite strange, come to think of it. 

“You have not,” Wednesday confirms, “It is a line of conversation that has escaped us both it seems.” 

Enid hums amusedly. She takes another sip of her drink, eyeing Wednesday thoughtfully as she considers her words.

“I’m a journalist.” Enid says with a proud smile, “Entry level so far…but, it’s going well.”  

Wednesday’s expression softens. Though she will not smile for anyone, she finds herself reasonably glad to hear Enid is not stuck in some dreary dead-end office job or soul crushing retail position. Such careers are beneath her. Journalism suits Enid, if her incessant gossip blog from their teens years is anything to go off. 

“It’s kinda funny actually, how we both followed our passions from school.” Enid adds. 

“It is to our advantage. Not many figure out their lives so early.” Wednesday muses. 

Enid agrees with a hum. 

Their food then arrives moments later. Convenient timing, as it provides Wednesday a moment to assess the situation so far. It’s going well, she thinks, better than she could’ve expected. She had thought it would be a more tense and awkward atmosphere due to her own difficulties but - yet again - Enid comfortably fits against her jagged edges. Though, Wednesday will give herself credit for making a conscious effort to file those edges down. 

As they eat, the conversation continues, and it flows unlike any conversation Wednesday has held in years. It is not flawless; there are moments of pauses; of uncertain social cues and macabre deadpan that doesn’t land quite right…but, it flows nonetheless. It is as though it shouldn’t work, but it does. Enid holds Wednesday’s attention with her grin, laughing and smirking along, occasionally teasing Wednesday’s nature - And Wednesday returns with her own version of enthusiasm: killer glares, murderous snark, and just occasionally a softened gaze or two. 

Now, it cannot be overstated that ‘natural’ is the incorrect word for these interactions. They are still constructed and carefully weighed, at least on Wednesday’s behalf… but she will quietly admit that by Enid’s virtue, it is becoming increasingly easier to handle as time progresses. 

As such - They eat. They talk.

And it feels perfectly fine. 

In fact, over two hours pass in the blink of an eye. Enid is midway through an anecdote when they are approached by the staff who regretfully announce they are closing for the evening. 

Enid glances down at their long-since finished food and drinks. She pulls out her phone and gawks at the time, blushing slightly. Wednesday scowls but thinks better of questioning it. Having a look at her own phone, she suddenly understands - The time is fast approaching midnight. 

“I guess time got away from us!” Enid laughs, “Can’t believe it’s been nearly two and a half hours.” 

“It is strange to lose track of time like this.” Wednesday says, “This usually only happens to me during tasks I enjoy such as my writing sessions, or my occasional visits to lay in a morgue cold room.” 

Enid grins. 

“You realise you just admitted to enjoying my company, right?” 

Wednesday glares at Enid blankly.

She blinks once, then twice. 

Well shit, she kinda did.

“Your company tonight has not been torturous.” Wednesday states. 

It is the most she’ll give for now. It is the most she can give. Fortunately, Enid seems to understand and she doesn’t press further, simply moving onto paying the bill and making sure they can vacate the restaurant ASAP to avoid further inconveniencing the staff. 

As they walk back to the apartment block, there is another comfortable silence. There’s occasional interjections: small stories of Enid’s new experiences of the city, and Wednesday’s gruesome trivia about which alleyways have recently had stabbings.

Wednesday also offers information on safe routes for Enid to take during her werewolf outings, and though Wednesday considers it just wise tidbits of knowledge, Enid’s gentle smile as she listens tells Wednesday that she has likely done something thoughtful without realising. 

And what a peculiar realisation it is.  That strange warmth in her chest returns for a moment, but it is fleeting. Wednesday barely even gets to acknowledge it, as it disappears upon their arrival to the apartment block a few minutes later. 

She and Enid walk upstairs together. 

“Well, it’s been great hanging out again,” Enid says cheerfully, lingering on the bottom step that leads up to her level,  “I think it went well.” 

Wednesday nods. 

“I agree. It was a marked improvement over our last in-person interaction” 

Enid lets out a slight chuckle. She lingers for a moment, looking down at Wednesday with a thoughtful look. Though Wednesday cannot be certain, she swears Enid’s gaze drops even further but it happens so quickly that it may have simply been a blink and trick of the light. 

It is probably nothing, she decides. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Enid hums as she begins to slowly traipse up the steps. 

“Of course.” Wednesday replies. 

And with that, Enid disappears up the stairwell. 

Wednesday wordlessly returns to her apartment. She steps inside the pitch black interior, sighing with relief as the cold air hits her skin. Despite the less-than-terrible time she’s had over the last few hours, it is always a welcome moment to be back home, so she can detox from the colourful outside world. 

Wednesday makes no hesitance in changing out of her outfit and settling onto the couch for some light reading before bed - She’s recently found great interest in a book about torture methods from the medieval era, finding it to be the perfect relaxing read after a busy day. 

Unexpectedly, her phone buzzes with an incoming message. 

Considering she and Enid just bid farewell, it seems strange for a text so soon. Perhaps this is just a normal friendship thing that she has forgotten about? Regardless, she grabs her phone from the coffee table and takes a look. 

‘Just wanna say thank u for tonight. You rlly tried and I appreciate it.’ 

Wednesday stares at the text. 

She feels her chest tighten.

And because of that oh-so strange recurring feeling, she neglects to notice the tiniest curve of a smile that suddenly plays on her lips. 

[karcinos-geneticist]

I ENTIRELY FORGOT I HAD THIS PAGE. I MEAN CONSIDERING WHO I WAS WITH THEN AND WHO I’M WITH NOW I GUESS I UNDERSTAND. TIME PASSING BY SUCKS BUT YOU CAN’T JUST LIVE IN THE SAME POINT IN TIME FOREVER I GUESS….

SHITS BEEN… WELL. SHIT. I’M HOLDING UP ON MY END WHERE I CAN AND PUSHING MYSELF THROUGH THE HURTLES OF MY OWN MEMORIES AND THE HOSTS. THW PHANTOM TOUCHES AND PAINS OF THE PAST, THE STRUGGLE TO KNOW IM JUST PART OF A COLLECTIVE AND NOT JUST A WHOLE, TO KNOW I’M NOT EVEN THE ONE WHO’S BODY THIS IS AND IT NEVER WILL BE… AMONGST ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING ELSE THAT COMES WITH THE BULLSHIT OF BWINF A SYSTEM, SYSTEM MATE, AND WAY TOO HEAVILY AWARE OF THIS FACT. I’VE BEEN THE ONE STUCK AT THE FRONT PRIMARILY THE PAST FEW /DAYS/ AND ITS LONELY AS SHIT? NONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHO /I/ AM ARE AVAILABLE AND THE ONES THAT MIGHT EVEN CONE CLOSE TO BEING SO ARE EITHER DEAD, STATES AWAY, OR A LITERAL TIME DIFFERENCE WORTH OF UNAVAILABILITY.

I’M OVER ALL JUST. VENTING HERE I GUESS BECAUSE IT FEELS MORE PERSONAL TO ME THAN A SHARED PAGE. PUBLIC YEAH BUT WITH HARDLY ANYBODY WHO FOLLOWS IF ANYONE. AND IF ANYONE FINDS ME? IT’S THE INTERNET AND TO THEM I’M A STRANGER. SIMPLE AS THAT.

UGH… SHIT WILL IMPROVE HOPEFULLY? IM HOPING THE DEPRESSION CLOUDS WILL CLEAR SOON BECAUSE THIS IS EXHAUSTING TO DEAL WITH AND AFTER THE LENGTH OF TIME THAT /I’VE/ BEEN HERE I NEED A BREAK. I NEED SOMETHING NICE. SOMETHING. GOOD.

-CG

[euphoricdr3ams]

as trash as it is. its something very releasing to vent to the internet about my problems than to just write in journal where i basically just feels like I'm talking to myself...

I've been talking to myself so much in my head that i want basically need to share with the outside people. But thats a double edge sword because people are tired and exhausted and have their own shit going on. And if they do have the emotional capacity to deal with me. Its a slippery slope. Like how real can i really be with you. if i say this one thing will i make you upset about something you repressed too.

But I also can't be on a constant zoom call with my therapist either soooooo to the internet I come with all of my problems. :)

I think what im gonna do right now while under the influence is unpack at least one statement via written format that my friends have been screaming at me for months. that if it could just instantly process in my mind what would it be.

She said "I wish you understood that you deserve better than what you think. You are worthy. And i wish you appreciate yourself as much as i appreciate you"

I may have messed up that up but that was the gist of it. Sooooo that was really sweet and honestly lets just start here and maybe we'll come to a realization by the end of this post.

Its kinda telling my first reaction was how i feel like ive been slacking in the friend department and how i wanna just rush and be done with all of this so i can be the bright and bubbly person i knew myself to be.

"I wish you understood that you deserve better than what you think."

I kinda just at here and stared at this statement for about 3 mins. Well on first notice. When i try to repeat that to myself it sounds like nice and definitely some stuff i said to hundreds of people in my life. Permeant and passing guest in this story. But repeating that phrase back to myself just sounds phony.

Like what is so interesting about me that assumes i deserve better. Like at the end of the day, we're all humans so why should i live with this air of what i assume is arrogance that I am immune to the trails of this life and that I who has had such a leg up in this world. Deserve more than someone else who there's no competition has had it way worse. So to everyone else yes to me no. Honestly thats BS. I should give myself the same grace and space as i do everyone else but its like when i try to reach for the empathy string for myself its as if we've run out of thread.

Like if life was a game. Which it is. Then, how can someone who came in with at least plus 2 fuck up so bad. Like at this point. I would just be somewhat happy to finish. Cuz trying to make some sort of rebound or comeback from that sounds impossible so why even try to let that idea sink in your head. So at this point. Just finishing is a leg up. Cuz even that is alot. And its kinda like how dare you like waste the efforts of the people who helped you get to this point. Like its a long history. Your ancestors and the people in your life right now so how could you fuck up. Like you should have been really paying attention when people are sharing their stories. You would have saved yourself so much headache. soooooooooo why should i dream about better. I know im stuck in a toxic thinking trap with that last blurb but like this isn't no healed chronicles. We're basically starting from the beginning and maybe we'll reach some healed state by the end.

I guess since my thoughts are basically below the earth crust. It's hard to imagine better than where i'm at right now. I paused tbh. I let the same song loop twice before really type again. I think theres something below the earth crust and thats about how dark my thoughts are. XD

its not funny. but its also hilarious at the same time. Yea my perception of myself so down. I felt the most full as a person and as a human being when i had my ex. Like i felt like i was better and i could do better and that i was worthy. And its not like he was really all that. Honestly he was a piece of shit. If the two people i have on here actually made it down this far. They could write a 100 page paper on how trash he was and how he doesn't deserve anything good ever again. But that level of anger i cant find it there for him fullly. Most of that resent is back at me for not smacking the dog shit out of him and leaving. He even suggested i do it. and i couldn't. I really loved that man and the thought of doing that even after all that is so bad. I wouldn't forgive myself. I wanna be able to do that but its not there cuz i dont deserve it. ughhh. Like all i can really feel is sorrow that i couldn't be all that he needed and thinking i failed him.

Im really pathetic.

I'm kinda really happy that i'm so lit right now cuz i would be having a whole meltdown.

Like the thought is that, at least he wanted to stay for a while. Most ppl just take an immediately leave. They dont even ask so i should be grateful.

Honestly I think thats part of the reason Why i was so happy regardless of the situation. Also doesn't help I have this song on loop. It about the listener be happy to die right now because they already found their person so they've already peaked. Its like a love song out of desperation instead of confirmation that the other person feels the same.

if i would have died during that relationship i would have said i went out happy. This was how i felt before all the fuckery started. I was so happy with my love and just him that i could have been just happy. He never was. He wanted more as he sucked all of that in the moment happiness i had and turned it into just a depressing mess. Turned it into someone who has so much anxious energy its ridiculous.

Out of the 2323232323233232323232232323232 *many* people i have had sex with at least he wanted to be here :) for a bit until he basically just lied about everything and took off his facade. Then i was tossed out like the trash. its coool i find a way to recover. Even if i have to just :). My way out of this. It's worked a bit up to this point. Why would it not work now...... right? I'm fine. I have no choice but to be.

I was gonna finish this but I'mma need a minute. Maybe that was ambitious of me. I feel a bit panic-y and dizzy so imma just chill for now. Till next time i guess

[yourghastlycloseness]

feel kind of seen in the video on BPD i was watching: https://youtu.be/6TS4d-zqRFA?feature=shared

i’ve been thinking about my emotional turbulence and lack of emotional regulation. the smallest things make me want to die. i just lose my shit all the time. one cup gets stuck inside another and i burn myself with hot water and hit myself in the face because how stupid must i be to allow something like that to happen? but im high functioning and i set the cup outside in hot water so that it expands and fill the cup inside with iced water so that it contracts and i manage to separate the two cups in the end. im high functioning but the cracks are there. people who see it can feel something’s off. i lose it at objects and at strangers. i try to exercise more control with the people in my life such that talking to people makes me feel like dying because whatever they’re getting isn’t who i am at all. i hate all my friends. i see the good in them. i’d rather be without them. but then what if i die of loneliness? fuck that, if there’s one thing i can take, it’s loneliness. i set up “tests” to see how much people want me in their lives. when they pass, i think they’re lying. when they fail, i think, good riddance. i don’t give a shit what anyone says but then one day im at the grocery store and i catch sight of my awful appearance in the mirror and i think about what that one friend said 20 years ago and how i’m probably the most incompetent person alive and i would shoot myself there and then

the point is i think the doctor misdiagnosed me a few years back with bipolar II. i had suggested to him that what i have is likely BPD, but he insisted that it was a mild bipolar (he did acknowledge that it was possible i had both) and proceeded to prescribe me a whole chunk of meds, some of them in the photo below. another one prescribed me 6 months worth of lexapro and an appointment just as much later bcos i had been in high spirits when i saw him and said i probably recovered—that’s just me talking out of my ass on a “good” day—the next day i crashed and burned and wanted to die again

im sick of the ups and downs. it’s exhausting

another therapist i had said a diagnosis. but im here watching all this content and while im by no means qualified to self-diagnose, i do think putting a name to what you have (accurately) makes it seem like there’s hope, things can be resolved

if you ever see those demonic possession horror movies, the first thing the priest does is to name the demon or whatever, and from there, they’re able to strategise the exorcism. in those scenes where the exorcism doesn’t go well, it’s usually revealed that the priest or the exorcist named the wrong demon. naming something correctly is so impt

with the ppl who don’t have mental illness, i think they just want me to “get over it”. with the ppl who understand that mental illness might be a thing, they think just going to a doctor or a therapist magically cures everything. to the mental health professional, i’m just another woman in my 20s crying for help, seeking validation, and riding the waves of the mental health awareness movement. yknow, just being trendy ✨

i don’t want to live anymore because every single fucking thing hurts. nobody cares about me. nobody chooses me. someone talked about watching an animal get killed and then eating it and i just couldn’t stop crying. yet i would probably stab a stranger on the streets with no regrets. it’s not even that i want to kill or hurt someone: i just need confirmation that the world i’m living in is real. maybe get beat up and murdered in prison or executed by law, whatever. put an end to this. i dont know what i feel anymore all i know is that i have no energy for any of it and if i feel anything it’s just false joy, then pain and anger