#probably best to either eat them now or put them back in the fridge for when you need a boiled egg in the next week

[dickinfectionbez-deactivated2011]

adora i accidentally set the timer for my softboiled eggs for 7 hours instead of minutes and by the time i realized they'd already cooked 3 extra minutes too long and are no longer jammy. devastated.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

oh dude that sucks :/

[mickyschumacher]

𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: they say you should learn something new every day. in oscar's case, he learns he should really read the fine prints. or in which oscar's secret santa gift comes into use. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), protected sex (for the 1st time ever here) childhood lovers (bc oscar IS this trope), face sitting/riding + consent, p in v, teasing, oral sex, mutual orgasms, (over)consumption of aphrodisiacs, mentions of spiders :(

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x gf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: as usual, proofread-ish. for the majority who thought aphrodisiacs and oscar sounded good... hope you like it! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Summer cleaning. You did it every January with Oscar when he came back home to Australia. The reasons you did it? Well, it gave you some peace and the pure free time you had with Oscar was limited. It didn't sound that fun but every year, you managed to make the most of it by reminiscing all the old memories you made, the past year or long ago. The bonus side: you kept things clean!

Last January you had both found an old scrapbook of Oscar and you that you had poorly made with the glue sticks that bare stuck no matter how much you slathered onto the paper, various croppings of coloured paper, loose glitter that hung on by a thread, and the cheapest driest markers you had found (you both thought you took them from primary school).

As horrifically it was made, it was sweet, sending you back down memory lane. The part that made the best was the secret confession in the back of it Oscar had written down with his god-awful six-year-old handwriting. Upon seeing 'really' spelt 'rallllly' and 'pretty' as 'pritty', it was safe to say, Oscar rushed to put the book back as quickly as you found it.

"Babe... what happen to cleaning?" Oscar queried, hand resting on the top of step ladder with raised brows as he looked down at you on the floor. He was moving around the books you stored at the top shelf of

You were sprawled on the floor, relishing the cool breeze the fan brought you. "It's 30 degrees, bro. What do you want me to do? I'm tired. The air outside is warm. It's gross," You complained, feeling your skin stick to the floorboards.

Oscar narrowed his eyes at your words, taking careful steps down the ladder now. "First of all, don't ever call me 'bro' again. Because that's fucking gross," He told you, taking your hand and pulling you up from the floor. "Secondly, you are sugar crashing. We probably should've had lunch an hour or so ago."

You pouted at the sound of sugar, slumping against Oscar's shoulder. "Why are we doing this?" You groaned.

Oscar chuckled, holding you tighter against him. "We're doing this so you don't call me in a few weeks and scream about spiders popping up everywhere."

You curled your lip in annoyance, pushing yourself off of him. "You suck," You retorted, walking over to your fridge. You took a moment to savour the cold air radiating from it as you opened the door before searching for something cold to eat. Your heart deflated at the mostly empty fridge. You hadn't been able to go shopping because everyone was either closed or had close early. You didn't even have any ice cream! The sheer audacity...

Your eyes flickered over your options before a red box caught your eye. You gasped, taking out the container and dangling it in front of Oscar. "We still need to finish these!"

Oscar turned his head towards you, recognising the red box quickly. It was part of the pack of sweets Daniel had given him for Secret Santa last year. To be honest, Oscar didn't have that much of sweet tooth. At least, he had nothing on you. He knew the moment he got it, it was going into his suitcase with prayers that it didn't melt in the Oceanic heat during transit.

While spending Christmas with your families, you, his sisters, and Oscar (mostly you) had taken the liberty to consume most of the candy. By the time you had eaten all the candy canes and small bits, the sight of the mere red box of chocolates made all of you feel sick. So you put it inside your fridge, saving it for some other desperate time. And said desperate time had soon come around in early January during your summer cleaning.

While Oscar would've preferred actual food to eat, he too was at his wits ends. When he nodded, he watched you excitedly come towards him as if you were preparing for your sugar rush.

You sat next to him, knee-to-knee. Opening the box without thinking too much, you both began eating the variety of chocolates. They were in various shades of brown and white, topped of with edible glitter or other candy. You were more than halfway through the box before you wondered what the different flavours were. You popped another into your mouth before closing the box to turn to it's back.

Raspberry... hazelnut... cinnamon.... maca root... epimedium?

Wait what?

"Oh fuck." You heard Oscar whisper.

You raised a brow, lowering the box, still finishing the piece in your mouth. "What's wrong?"

Oscar winced, sucking in a sharp breath before turning the front of the box to you, index finger pointing at the fine print underneath the brand's name.

APHRODISIAC CHOCOLATES.

Effects dependent on the amount eaten and the person. Eat at your own risk.

Your eyes widened, hand almost dropping the box. "Oscar... there's like three left."

Oscar's mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. He pondered the gift. No wonder Daniel was smiling so weirdly at him after he received his gift. That plus his incessant texting, asking whether he had finished all the candy. Shit...

A nervous laugh fell from Oscar's lips as his ears turned red. "I mean... it won't work, right? Surely... this is a scam... a gimmick?"

Your mouth was dry. "Let's check online, hmm?" You told him, taking out your phone. Oscar shuffled closer next you, eyeing the screen cautiously. Typing the product name into the search bar, you felt your cheeks become hot once the results came pouring in.

The best chocolates for sex in 2023!

Horny chocolates for horny lovers. See our favourites!

Viral aphrodisiac chocolates reviewed to be really good.

You pressed your lips, clicking on the last link. Your eyes skimmed the page. You could hear Oscar read the reviews, voice getting louder with every passing second. "Was unsure but no regrets... Bedroom was on fire.. more than... t-three rounds?! Be careful how many you consume... effects stronger with more consumption.... lasts up to three hours?!"

You laughed awkwardly. "S-Surely not. I'm mean not that it's terrible but we still have cleaning to do. I'm sure these are fake reviews... you know like to disguise drop shipping." It was a poor excuse slipping from the likes of your mouth but it was an excuse nonetheless.

Oscar nodded slowly. "Right... cleaning! Yes, that's... that's it! We should probably do that," He told you taking the box out of your hands and putting it to the side.

You and Oscar weren't necessarily awkward or shy about sex. You communicated perfectly well. But the concept of eating aphrodisiac chocolates that were given by his co-worker much less a fellow Australian definitely sent the both of you down the lane of uncertainty.

To be honest, you weren't feeling anything anyways... yet.

Together, the both of you had managed to get all the cleaning done. The thought of the chocolates were long gone after you had multiple Daddy Long Legs come out of the attic, half scaring you to death and sending Oscar into a fit of laughter (although he wouldn't admit he was terrified for a brief second).

Having enough and thrilled you were finished, you were both down to take a nap in your bedroom with all the doors closed and the aircon on blast.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your nap was going great. It was so good you were sure the red lines of your sheets were embedded into your skin. You were dreaming... it was hot and sticky, it was in the shower for a second and the beach the next and Oscar's hands were all over you.

But all goods things must come to an end.

Especially if it means waking up in Oscar's arms, ass pressed against his hard cock and his hips rutting against you.

With sleepy eyes, you tilted your head to capture a glimpse of Oscar who looked wide awake with a sheen of sweat covering his face. His arms around you tightened when he met your eyes. You furrowed your brows. "Os.. did you not sleep?"

A strained sigh fell from his lips, releasing his hot breath onto your shoulder. "How could I? You were moaning my name and these fucking chocolates are killing me here. God, you sounded so good, baby," Oscar whispered, lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

Your eyes closed naturally at his touch. You were sure you were already wet from the dream but the tingling between your thighs was intensifying. "Oscar," You softly whined.

His hips jerked against you, making you both moan quietly. "I need you, sweetheart. Let me eat you out... please," He pleaded, feeling his cock impossibly tighten.

Clenching your thighs together, you nodded frantically. At your notion, you watched Oscar peel himself away from you. You couldn't hide the shock on your face when you discovered he had already removed his pants long ago. He had been grinding into your ass naked. His cock stood straight, skimming the surface of his lower stomach. It looked different. Angrier... harder... not necessarily bigger but it stood as if it was ready to ruin you.

Oscar eagerly spread your legs with both of his hands, cursing when he saw the patch of wet darkness on your shorts. Carefully, he took away your short, leaving in your panties which were fully damp and clinging to every possible fold of yours. "Shit," He muttered, fingers gingerly pulling the front of your underwear so it was tightly pressed against your pussy.

In his peripheral, he could see your legs squirm, getting antsy for his touch. If he was being honest, Oscar could barely think straight. All this aphrodisiac in his system had sent him overdrive. He couldn't tell what he wanted to do first. Whether he should rub his cock against you so the both of you came like two virgin teenagers going at it for the first time... if he should just fuck you to oblivion or whether he should eat you and find every crevice till you were shaking against him and begging for more..

"Ride my face," Oscar simply stated, peeling away your underwear to reveal your bare pussy. He clenched his jaw, restraining himself from taking you right then and there.

You gasped at the intrusion of cold air on your hot folds. Oscar had said something... what was it again? "R...Ride your face?" You shakily whispered. "A-Are you sure? I... don't you need to breathe?"

In any other moment, Oscar would've laughed lightly. But his need for you was far too strong. He nodded, moving to the side so he laid on his back. "Baby, I've never been so sure of something in my life. Trust me. I've got you," He assured, lust thick with his promise.

You sucked in a sharp breath, unable to mull over the proposition because your answer was already clear by the way your pussy was clenching around nothing and your arousal had increased ten-fold. You moved over Oscar's body, hovering over his face. His hot breath sent a shudder up your spine while his hands naturally placed themselves on your hips, slowly pulling you down, legs on either side of his face.

A groan slipped out of his lips. The scent of your arousal was intoxicating Oscar. He could've sworn that he was fucking pussy-drunk.

Your mouth fell open upon feeling his nose against your clit and his warm tongue flat against your folds. "Oh, fuck," You moaned, thighs tensing around Oscar's face.

Oscar lapped at your juices, slurping all he could while he explored every crevice of your folds. His head jutted against your legs, nose sloppily knocking against your throbbing clit.

Your hands flew to his brown locks, tugging at the sheer pleasure running through your body right now. Any tension or worries you had about suffocating Oscar had melted away, hips already leaning in to put as much of your weight on his face as one could humanely allow, rocking your hips to get even more friction.

His tongue dragged up your folds, finding your swollen bundle of nerves as he came up for air. Oscar just couldn't help it. The urge to get a taste of you shuddering against him was overwhelming. But as he sucked your clit gently, his brown eyes of his flickered up to your face and what a sight it was.

You had completely lost yourself.

Eyes clamped shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, sweat littering the surface of your skin, nipples hard against your shirt... fuck. If he knew you would feel and look this good, he would've made you ride his face ages ago.

Despite losing your senses, your body still was restraining from putting your full weight on him. Oscar could feel it as you tried to lift yourself in the attempt of self-control, making him chase for your pussy. But the rise of your hips came one too many times and Oscar had enough, fingers tightening around your thighs with an ironclad grip, holding you close to him.

You squirmed against his hold. All those chocolates... you had both eaten them because you were hungry. But Oscar had only become more starved and thirsty as he drank you as though he was dehydrated. You were so wet that his tongue was practically swimming between each fold.

Hips rutting against his face, your head fell back as his lips moved back to your clit, suctioning the bundle of nerves while stars began to invade your vision. You had barely said anything, so lost in the pleasure, forgetting to praise his art. It was like your brain was so dazed that it wouldn't sync up to your mouth, only allowing for your whimpers and moans to join the lewd slurping of Oscar's.

You couldn't care anymore. The stars were so close... you let your full weight rest on Oscar, making him grin against your heated cunt. Your grip on his hair tightened, the coil in your stomach snapping as his movements became sloppy, drool seeping from the corners of his mouth.

Your body is trembling against his face, convulsing around his tongue while the only thing you can manage to let out is a series of broken moans and obscenities under your breath.

Oscar feels you fall limp, muscles tired from tensing and exerting more energy than usual. He slowly lifted you off of him, shifting you next to him as both of your chests heaved with deep breaths. His head fell against the pillow. "I could do that till I die."

You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your mouth, nestling into the pillow. You let out a soft laugh but it slowly died down once the seriousness of Oscar's tone finally registered. Your eyes travelled down his cock, standing angrier than ever, leaking with pre-cum. From what you were seeing, Oscar must've been in pain.

You shifted closer to Oscar, sweaty skin sticking to his own. You peeled off your shirt, sighing at the cold air skimming your breasts. Without a second thought, Oscar's hands were on them, groping and fondling them. Back arching, you fell closer to his touch, pushing yourself into him.

He was distracting you.

"Oscar," You whimpered at the squeeze of your nipple in response. "Fuck me."

Oscar's hands paused, eyes flickering to you. His breathing had gotten quiet all of a sudden while his eyes darkened. "How?" He asked. "H-How do you want me to fuck you?" His voice cracked slightly with the heavy strain of lust–well, partly the aphrodisiacs-weighing it down.

You pulled yourself away from him, sprawling yourself comfortably on the bed. "However you want."

"Fuck," Oscar groaned, eyes closing at your words before pushing himself up to remove his shirt. He moved to hover his body over you. His hooded eyes flickered over you, full with admiration. You looked like a hot mess. His mess... that he made. You were going to kill him.

His brain must of been short circuiting, however. He blinked blankly at you. "Shit, I don't have a–"

You interrupted him by reaching under your pillow, dangling the foil-wrapped packet in his face. Oscar slowly took what he was looking for from your hands, eyeing you with furrowed brows. "You just keep condoms under your pillow now?"

The sudden comment made you break into laughter, making Oscar's struggling to keep his heart at bay. You nodded your head, quietening down. "Yes, specifically for this occasion."

"When a friend gives me sex chocolates?" Oscar raised a brow, voice full of ridicule.

"Yep! Precisely."

Oscar rolled his eyes, shaking his head. You were bad at joking but to him, you were the world's best comedian. He tore the wrapping, hissing at the sudden contact as he rolled the condom onto his shaft. He blew a deep breath from his lips, sweat-ridden hair doing little to move out of his face.

His eyes fell to your still swollen pussy... so enticing... "I don't think I'll last long," Oscar admitted with a grave mumble, a flush of red scattering across his neck.

You smiled softly. "It's okay. You already gave me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life... you can fuck me till you can't cum anymore."

Oscar's cock twitched against his stomach. He sure liked the sound of that.

His hands darted out to roam your body, embracing the feel of every curve or bump he could get his hands on. He heard your sharp inhale as his fingers danced around your v-line. Me too, he thought to himself.

Oscar couldn't take it anymore. He was practically blue-balling himself at this point. He lowered himself over you, feeling your hot breath envelope him. His cock slowly pressed against your folds, making both of you pause at the warm feeling tingling up your spines. "Shit," he groaned, watching your engorged folds try to grip any bit of his cock. "You're seriously going to kill me."

"A girl's gotta try," You teased, breaking into a small whimper as Oscar dragged the tip of his throbbing cock to your hole, skimming your clit along the way.

Your mouth fell open upon feeling Oscar pushing his hips into you. His cock entered your warm folds, stretching the tight walls of your soaked cunt. Your head lolled back into the softness of the pillows while a high-pitched whimper slipped past your lips.

Oscar grunted as he fully unsheathed his cock, bottoming out as much as he could. The feel of your pussy clenching around him with a vice-like grip was sending over him already. He could feel every part of you, hips flushed with yours while the tip of his cock nudged your cervix.

He began with shallow thrusts, rocking his hips against yours. "Fuck, you feel so good, baby," Oscar swore, eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

You moaned in response, savouring every inch of his cock that came in and out of you. "You fill up so well," You praised, hand travelling to his own to give him an affirming squeeze.

Oscar missed your lips. It felt like he hadn't touched them in a long time even though he had probably spent over half the morning with them today. Sloppily, his lips travelled across your jaw and met your soft pillowy ones. He could hear your muffled moans in the kiss as he rutted into you. Shit...

"Oscar," You whispered with a high mewl upon feeling his fingers roll your nipple in between them. You were going to kill him? More like he was going to kill you.

But you weren't lying. His cock was indeed filling you so well, having you clench around him like there was no tomorrow. You felt so... full... those fucking chocolates...

Speaking of which... Oscar was over these 'aphrodisiac chocolates' or whatever the hell they were. They were making him insane. Every moment he ever spent with you, whether it was on a date or in bed, he always felt like he was being driven insane (in the nicest possible way, of course). But these chocolates... it felt like he was aware of everything. Every reaction... every part of him was on fire... everything was amplified... ten-fold, no, a hundred.

You were both on the crest of your climaxes. Oscar could tell by the way you were gripping him, the sudden reduction of your words, and the dazed look in your eyes. And you could tell by the stutter of his hips and the twitch of his cock.

Oscar bent his head down towards your legs, spitting directly onto your bundle of nerves. Fuck, now your hips were stuttering as well, the familiar feeling of the coil in your lower abdomen unravelling. "Oscar, fuck, I'm going to–"

Oscar doesn't even have the decency to let you finish your sentence, hand rubbing dizzying circles on your clit, hips increasing it's pace, sending you flying into your second orgasm.

"Oh, shit, shit, that's it, baby," Oscar encouraged, fighting to keep his eyes open as the waves of pleasure began drowning him. You were just squeezing his cock so much. Your mouth is wide open as Oscar's hips faltered against yours. He rushed to take his cock out, hand jerking off the engorged shaft to spill every single drop of his hot white cum onto your stomach.

For a moment, it felt like the effects of the chocolates had worn off as Oscar collapsed on top of you without a single thought going through his mind. His chest heavily rose up and down, your chin nuzzling into his collarbone while he soothingly patted your head.

You both laid like that for over ten minutes, saying nothing, just revelling in each other's presence, naked.

"I think we're going to have to thank Daniel," You joked, finally regaining your words.

"Later," Oscar sucked in a sharp breath. "Like three hours later."

You furrowed your brows, looking up at Oscar, only for him to be looking down. Following his gaze, your eyes honed in on the object capturing both of your attention.

"Oh..."

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[amateurmasksmith]

Chromatic Aberration

Description: The Thomasphere, a system, wakes up feeling… off. Luckily, their best friend Joan is able to help them out.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to @analyzing-people-like-hell , @charliextea , and @radioactive-dazey for their feedback!

Warnings: Descriptions of blurriness, dissociation.

Disclaimer: While I tried to be as accurate as I could, I am still a singlet - If I got anything wrong, please let me know!

_________

The blaring of the alarm clock by their bed slowly faded into awareness as they woke up.

”Uuuughhh, what ti..?” How was it already eleven?

Before they realized what they were doing, they found themselves standing up and stretching.

We should get going. Joan’s coming over, right.

They’re really cool.

After throwing on some random clothes from the not-quite-dirty pile, grabbing their phone, and halfway making their bed, they made their way down the stairs.

They were aiming for the kitchen, to get started on breakfast, but…

They sat down on the couch instead, phone in hand out of habit.

News. Tumblr. Text Joan ‘good morning!’ Weather.

They stared at their phone’s lock screen - Currently a screenshot from Inside Out - And watched it fade to black.

Too many thoughts, head empty.

Wait -

what were they doing?

They were on the couch. They shouldn’t be on the couch, they were stuck.

They were gonna… do something.

Right, make food. Heat food. Eat food? Eat something.

And still they sat.

Not quite zoning out, but not all there either.

No thoughts, head full.

A knock at the door interrupted their static reverie.

RUN - yeah, that was a Virgil thought. It’s okay…

The knocking again. Right! Should probably get that…

They navigated to the door, and opened it to reveal their best friend - “JOAN!” joan! Joan. Joan!

They practically tackled Joan in a hug, before dragging them inside and closing the door.

“You good, dude?” they asked, once they both (all?) had settled on the couch.

“You seem…” they vaguely gestured with one hand while trailing off. “Floaty?”

Oh.

Dammit.

“Yeah, we’re pretty blurry.” How didn’t they realize sooner?

”Right, blurry, that was it.” Joan snapped their fingers and pointed at… whoever they were right now. “D’you wanna try ‘Guess Who?’”

They sighed. He sighed? What even are pronouns, anyway? Words that take-

Admittedly, they’d been too bogged down by being blurry to try getting out of being blurry.

“Aight, sure - Ask away.”

Joan held up a finger and started looking around their living room. “Wait, where’d he put it?”

Joan got up and started looking in the kitchen, with them trailing behind, confused.

“Put what?” They asked, racking their memory for an answer. Pink :D! Oh. No…

“Ha! Gotcha!” Joan triumphantly exclaimed as they pulled a… very colorful box… out of the fridge…

Joan sat down at the table, and motioned for them to join.

“Roman and I made this yesterday,” they said, lifting the lid of the box. “I think some others showed up at one point, but it was too busy for me to name-check.”

Joan took out the now-rainbow-colored Guess Who frame, and flipped up all the custom-painted tiles.

“Okayyyy… Coffee or tea?” Joan asked.

“Coffee, definitely.” They answered, stomach growling.

Joan looked at them teasingly, but not unkindly, as they flipped down three tiles. “Did you do that thing you do where you sit on your phone for twenty minutes in the middle of your living room instead of eating?”

“…No comment.”

Joan facepalmed with a smile, and got up from the table. They moved to join them, but Joan interrupted, “No, no - stay there. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“I can make my own breakfast!” they protested almost Princey-ly.

“Are you sure you have the energy for that?” Joan countered, not looking up from what they were doing.

…They could find the energy. Let them take care of us. We can rest.

“Fine,” they eventually said, settling back into their chair.

”Eggs ok?” Joan asked.

souls of the unborn! “Yeah, that’s cool.”

Thank you, Remus. *…sigh* : {D

“Scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled, like my brain.”

Joan nodded, and cracked a few eggs into the pan.

Within a few minutes, they brought over two platefuls of steaming eggs, then returned to the kitchen to retrieve the coffee as well.

Joan passed them the milk and sugar, and smirked as they watched them make their cup.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Joan broke into full-fledged giggling, as they reached across the table to pull the Guess Who board closer.

“Sorry, sorry- It’s just-” they flipped down two more tiles while stifling the last of their laughter, “there’s no way Logan or Virgil would’ve put that much stuff in their coffee…”

They looked down at their mostly-milk-and-sugar coffee.

Indeed. “Fair.” Yeah...

A companionable silence settled over them as they ate, simply enjoying each other’s company.

When they were done, Joan stood up and began clearing the dishes, motioning for them to hand over their plate.

“Nope, nu-uh - You made breakfast, I’m at least gonna help clean up.”

Joan grinned, and yoinked their plate away. “Not if I do it first!”

Oh, you’re on. They grinned in return, grabbed the plate back, and sprinted to the sink.

They spent the next several minutes attempting to wash the dishes - Grabbing plates and mugs from each other on the way between the table and the sink, playfully shoving the other off when they’d reach over the middle wall of the sink and finish their dish for them, and, of course, ‘accidentally’ spraying each other with the hose.

At one point, Joan called out, “Hang on, hang on - truce!” and flipped down one of the tiles…

…Before immediately pocketing a missed utensil and dashing over to the sink to clean it.

Eventually, they finished washing all the dishes - Miraculously, without breaking any - Before collapsing on the short side of the L-shaped couch, exhausted from about a week’s worth of running.

“Movie?” Joan asked.

Oh, right. That’s what they’d invited them over for.

“You pick?” They countered.

“Sure.” Joan answered.

After some deliberation, Joan picked out a movie and put it on.

They then snagged a blanket from the other side of the couch and asked, “Movie cuddle?”

“Abso-freakin’-lutely, dude!”

Whoever they might be right know, they knew they loved hugging their best friend.

Joan then clambered and stretched over the back of the couch to reach the Guess Who board on the table, and barely managed to flip down another tile, leaving only one still standing.

Satisfied, they worked their way back into a normal sitting position, pulled the blanket onto both of their laps, and grinned.

“Ready, Thomas?”

“Oh-” that made sense, “Yeah, I’m ready!” Thomas answered, returning the grin.

“Awesome,” Joan replied before starting the movie and moving in closer to him.

It’s really nice, Thomas thought while returning the hug, having Joan here.

A few thoughts of agreement flitted past as they settled in, the opening credits playing on-screen.

It was a good day.

[spidey-bie]

Hobie x ARFID Reader

Warnings: emetophobia (if you squint), eating disorder

He's the type of person who'll sit with you as you eat even if you're a slow eater

"Didn't you say you had to go to HQ today?"

"Miguel and those other wankers can wait. I have more important things to do here."

People have stopped complaining about you eating slow ever since you've started hanging out with Hobie.

(He probably lectured them about eating quickly is a part of the grind mindset and how capitalism has once again plagued society so much that we can't even eat meals without thinking about how to best optimize our time. In this essay I wil-)

Please don't hoard your food, your personal food disposal is literally right there

He will not let you force food down either refer back to the above point.

Never explicitly states anything about the excessive amount of Pepto Bismol you own. However he does distract you away from it after each meal if it's a habit you're trying to break.

He also finds creative ways to motivate you to eat

"Did you really just put on a puppet show with a sock figure singing about how you can't fight the power on an empty stomach?"

"Yeah."

"Siiiigh ig I gotta go eat now. Like Shobie the sockman said I can't fight against my oppressors if my stomach is giving me away."

Learns how to prepare your safe foods

He's a fairly decent cook. But if he doesn't know how to cook something he'll experiment before giving you the final product.

Also he doesn't say anything if you ask for foods to be finely chopped or cut because of excessive fear of choking.

If there's something he can do that'll make eating easier for you he'll do it no matter how strange it might seem.

He will distract you as you eat if that helps you. Probably goes on and tells a story from his day or something new about one of his interests.

He doesn't get upset or irritated if your safe foods change up

You looked down at the plate of food set down before you. There was nothing wrong with it. It was actually a food you'd grown comfortable eating for the past couple of weeks yet the sight of it now made your stomach turn.

"I can't do it. I'm sorry."

"What you apologizing for? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know." Your vision began to blur. "But I thought this one would've stuck around for a bit longer."

"Don't worry about it I've got some safe foods in the fridge for you as backup."

He will find ways to sneak foods with the vitamins you need into your food if you ask him to.

He tells you he's proud of you for whatever you eat that day or if you try new foods.

"I'm proud of you for eating."

"Bie I'm only eating a child's portion of food."

"Oi. Don't put yourself down. Something is better than nothing."

(A/N: You just gotta love mourning over the foods that you can't eat anymore 🙂. Anyhow this wasn't as heavy as I thought it'd be. Actually got some heartfelt scenes in here. )

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Please Don't Hate Your Body, It's the Only Part of You I can Touch

Summary: Peppino has body image issues some days, today is one of them. You wish he'd see himself the way you did, you love him for who he is. Instead you decide to reassure and show him a little extra weight doesn't make him unattractive. In fact, you can't keep your hands off of him.

Contains: Body positivity, Noise being...himself (an asshole), Slight angst and comfort, belly rubs and gratuitous touchiness, somewhat suggestive (nothing inherently nsft though)

🫐This is not for people that are fatphobic or fetishizers of people of size. Please treat people as the individual that they are and deserving of respect regardless of their weight.🍋

Peppino stared down at the dessert with hesitation. Instead of taking a bite he prodded it with a fork, frowning. He suddenly became aware of how snug his shirt was around his stomach and the tightness at his sides.   

Usually Peppino could wave off the Noise's insults, though this time he was still replaying the comments from yesterday. 

"Hey-a italian man! If you're still struggling with bills you're so fat, you could probably sell shade. With how hot it is you'd make a fortune!" Noise laughs at his own joke before shoving another garlic knot in his mouth. 

"I'm not gonna sugar coat this for you, because if I did, you'd eat it. You're fat".

He didn't recall much else besides finally losing his temper at Noise, with Noisette having to intervene shortly after. 

"What Y/N sees in you is beyond me" Noise snapped back at Peppino as his girlfriend dragged him away. Noisette looked over her shoulder and shot Peppino an apologetic look.

Peppino shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He would tell himself that it's easy. If he hated the way he looked? Change it. He looked back down at the cake. 

Did you really want to eat that?

Of course he wanted to. It was one of his favorites, black forest cake. Earlier this week you had decided to bake and surprise Peppino with it. 

Peppino sighed and set the fork down next to the plate, nudging it away. Just as he was about to put the cake back into the fridge you stepped into the room. 

Maybe you'd want it instead, and he could pawn the dessert off on you.

"Do you want this?" He gestured to the plate that was now in the center of the table. Your eyes lit up and you smiled as you took the plate. "Thanks"! 

You plopped down on the chair and happily dug into the cake. After a second bite your eyes dart up to meet his with a questioning look. "Aren't you going to have some?" You ask through a mouthful.

He tried to not let his discomfort show on his face as he forced a smile through gritted teeth. 

"Oh, I'm not-a hungry cara".

You watch with a raised eyebrow as Peppino stood up and left the room. After a moment you hear a door click shut. 

Was he just going to get a shower and go straight to bed again? 

You stared down at the now empty plate in thought, recalling his odd behavior last night. 

In bed he had his back turned to you, which wasn't uncommon. The part that nagged at you was his reaction when you draped an arm across his stomach, like you always did. Peppino seemed to shy away from your touch and as your fingers traced circles against him, he abruptly -but gently- took your hand in his and moved it away from his body. 

Now that you thought about it, Peppino didn't eat much for dinner yesterday either. He simply ate what had been on his plate with a similar dejected expression, like today. 

* * * * *

Water dripped onto the tile and mat as Peppino dried off, eyes averted from the mirror. Again. He grimaced as he bent over and slipped into his night pants. In his peripheral his reflection silently mimicked the action. 

He sighed. Despite his best attempt to avoid it, Peppino slowly drew his full attention to the mirror. Tired eyes stared at his thinning hair. No matter how much fumbling he did with it nothing would ever cover it. 

Reluctantly his eyes drifted lower to his gut. What did you see in him? His lips formed a thin line. 

Maybe he doesn't deserve the nice things he has. You deserved someone better. Someone skinnier. He wouldn't skip meals but he should stop eating sweets. Peppino gingerly poked at his side. He should cut down on how much he ate, too. 

Food was a sort of comfort for him, particularly when he was stressed, which felt like all the time. Between this and his medication he should've expected to get fat.

But what are you doing about it?  

You were always there for him regardless. Always telling him everything was ok. The least he could do for you is look better, more-

Peppino's thoughts were cut off as he felt arms wrap around his middle and a familiar weight press into his back. You smiled softly in return when his eyes met yours in the mirror. 

"I love you." You whisper, pulling him into a hug. 

He felt your hands wander across his body, your hands slid up to his chest before coming back down to run your hands across his abdomen. For a moment Peppino let himself enjoy your touch. Enjoy how soothing it was as your hands caressed him. Your breath tickled as you peppered kisses against the back of his neck and shoulders. 

Then he caught a glimpse in the mirror. There was that sinking feeling again. Peppino tore his gaze from yours and looked down at the counter. He wouldn't be able to cut out the excess calories, would he? He was going to break any day-

"Whatcha thinking about Pino?" You mumble as you rest your chin on his shoulder. He sighed.  

"You've been acting out of it." You press another kiss into the side of his neck and jaw, "What's wrong"?

"What do you see in me?" He blurted out, "Aren't you disgusted that I'm just-a balding fat man"?

Silence. 

You pull away from him, expression unreadable. Peppino could feel the faintest trace of tears prickling in his eyes.

Damn it why can't I just get it together.

Was this it? Did you finally realize he was just a broken and pathetic looking slob? 

You tug at his arm, urging him to follow you. As you guide Peppino to the bed, you motion for him to sit down. Listlessly he obeys, sinking down onto the comforter, watching as you sit beside him. 

"Peppino, don't ever say that about yourself again. There's nothing wrong with you having a little extra weight-"

"A little?" He retorted. "I d-"

"Peppino..." You shot him a look, the tone in your voice causing his words to catch in his throat. 

"How about, instead, we think of the positives?"

"What?" Peppino huffed, "What positives could you see in this?" he gestured to his gut and shot you an incredulous look. 

"Stop." you reply firmly, taking his hand in yours, before guiding it back to his side. You give him a quick peck on the cheek.

After a moment seemingly lost in thought, your face brightened. "Well let's see, for one, you're soft".

Peppino shot you a deadpan look. "Really, cara? I don't see how that's a positive".

"But it is." Your hands gently began stroking and caressing the rolls at his hips and sides. Peppino weakly tried to push your hands away but you simply shushed his protests and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Your so perfect to snuggle against, you make the ideal pillow. If you were thin or muscular you wouldn't be nearly as nice, or as comfortable to sleep on".

You dip your head lower, trailing light kisses down his stomach. In response Peppino leaned back, propping himself up against the pillows. He shuddered as you lips grazed against his body before drifting to his side.

"Falling asleep on you is the best. I feel so safe with you". You whisper, wrapping yours arms around his midsection. As you rest the side of your face against him, Peppino laid back into the bed and draped his arms across you. A faint shimmer caught your attention before you placed another kiss against a stretch mark.  

"Listening to your heart beat and breathing lets me know you're alive. There's nothing I'd rather fall asleep to. And you being so soft makes it the perfect place for my head to do it".

You press a kiss to his stomach that he hated so much. "You're gorgeous, Pino." You murmur, slowly tracing circles against him. 

Peppino remained silent as he watched you with half lidded eyes.

Peppino knew you loved him, that much was obvious. What he needed, instead, was to know you were attracted to him, to feel desired. 

"No matter how long we've been together, my heart still skips a beat when I see you take your shirt off".

Peppino gave you a quizzical look. Before he could say anything you used one hand to pull his head to face you while the other stroked his cheek. You placed your lips against his, enjoying the warmth radiating from his skin. 

As you leaned into and pushed him back down into the mattress you feel his breathing hitch. Laying on top of Peppino, you were almost purring from his warmth, his scent, and the softness of him. 

As you pull away you smile down at him before readjusting your legs to straddle him. 

"I love you no matter what shape you're in, not what people say is "ideal". You're ideal as you are". 

Slowly but deeply you pressed your hands into his belly and rubbed. Peppino made a small gasping noise as you continued to knead at his body. It felt good, just as good as the back massages you always gave him. 

“Mmh,” he involuntarily groaned as your hands grabbed at the curves above his hips. 

“Does that feel nice?"

“Yeah." Peppino whispered back, sounding dreamily content as he melted into your touch. 

As Peppino looked up to see the delight on your face. Maybe he was being too hard on himself.

"I love every part of you" You leaned over, placing a kiss on his forehead. Peppino shuddered as your lips brushed against his ear. 

"Let me show you how much I love you. All of you".

[petitelepus]

A Loner's Unexpected Journey, Part 9

Kimetsu Academy!Genya Shinazugawa X Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Genya live together now so you gotta make some rules and lunch.

Warnings: None

A/N: Modern!AU, Kimetsu Academy, Female Reader, Genya Shinazugawa

PART 1 II PART 2 II PART 3 II PART 4 II PART 5 II PART 6 II PART 7 II PART 8 II PART 9 II PART 10 II PART 11 II PART 12 II PART 13 II PART 14 II PART 15 II PART 16 II PART 17 II PART 18

"Are you sure I can use all this space?" Genya asked as he watched you one by one throw some of your clothes out of your closet.

The two of you had just arrived back at your apartment that you now shared with Genya, your best friend and first boyfriend ever and the first thing you wanted to do was to make room for his clothes and stuff.

"Of course!" You nodded as you threw a pair of jeans over your shoulder, "I wanted to clean my closet either way so I'm killing two birds with one stone."

"What about all your clothes?" The young man asked as he watched the pile of clothes on your bed. You glanced at him over your shoulder, "Oh, those are all clothes I don't use anymore so I'm going to give them to charity."

"You're so kind and generous." He thought out loud, much to your embarrassment.

You blushed, "I… Anyway, here." You stepped aside and showed Genya an almost empty closet, "You can use this room as much as you want."

"Thank you," Your partner nodded as he picked up his suitcase and was getting ready to empty it, but you quickly added, "What would you like to eat?"

"Huh?"

"It's lunchtime and my fridge is empty. Wanna order some pizza?" You offered and Genya nodded, "I don't mind, thank you."

"What kind of pizza do you want?"

Genya asked for meat lover's pizza and you nodded as you went to pick up your phone and called the pizzeria. While you were ordering in the living room, Genya was emptying his suitcase's contents into the closet.

…But he couldn't help but glance at all the clothes you were going to give away and a thought briefly came to his mind. He looked at the door and listened, but he heard you baby talk so you were probably playing with Lady.

Genya moved quickly as he grabbed a shirt from your charity pile and he quickly pressed his face against the fabric. It smelled sweet and warm, just like you did and he loved it. He wondered if you would miss one shirt, but then he understood how creepy it could be so he put the shirt back on the pile and just in time as you walked into the room.

"Hey Genya-!" You called, and you startled the poor man nearly out of his skin. That was a close one!

"W- what is it?"

"Pizza is on its way." You said and he nodded, "Oh, okay, Thanks for letting me know."

"Anytime. Is everything otherwise okay? Do you need more room for your stuff?"

"N- no, this is plenty enough!"

"Good good." You nodded, "I'll let you know when pizza gets here."

Genya nodded and you left him alone again, but he had no courage or need to go sniff your clothes anymore. Instead, he emptied his suitcase diligently and he was about done when he heard the doorbell ring and you shout, "Pizza's here!"

The young man walked out of your bedroom and he managed to see a glimpse of the pizza delivery guy before you closed the door with your hips as your hands were full. Genya swallowed nervously. That was pretty hot.

"Ouch, these are hot!" You said as you quickly walked to the couch and set the pizza boxes down on the coffee table, "Let's dig in. Would you like some Cola, Genya?"

"Uh, yes please?" He nodded as he sat on the couch and you quickly got two huge glasses and filled them with cold Cola from your fridge.

"Here," You pushed his glass to him and he thanked you again. That being said and done, the two of you grabbed slices of your own pizzas and ate them happily with a little small talk.

Suddenly Lady meowed as she jumped on the table and sniffed your pizzas but you quickly pushed her off the table, "No, Lady, no pizza for you!"

"Yeah, you could get sick," Genya backed you up and the grey cat meowed as she turned and left since there was no food for her. You and Genya ate your pizzas and you were both stuffed after them.

"I ate too much…" You groaned weakly, your stomach feeling like a balloon. Genya nodded as he took a sip of what was left of his glass of Cola, "Thanks, they were delicious."

"You're welcome." You grinned, but then you turned a little more serious, "Now that we live together, we might need to make some rules to follow. What do you think?"

"That sounds reasonable," Genya said and you hummed thoughtfully as you tried to think of anything you would need to make as a rule. "Now what should we think about…"

"How about food?" Genya suggested.

"Oh, that's good!" You nodded with a smile, "How about if we go grocery shopping together when needed?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." He nodded also and you added, "We could also take turns when it comes to cooking dinner or lunch at weekends."

"I've learned some things from Haganezuka's classes." Genya said proudly, "So I should be able to cook something good for you!"

"Aww, thank you! That makes me really excited," You smiled, "I'm eager to cook for you too."

Hearing this made poor man blush, and that was when you came up with a new rule, "I got an idea about cleaning! How about this, when you cook I vacuum, clean, and clean after Lady, and then the other way around when I cook?"

"That sounds reasonable also."

"Alright, that should be it, right?"

"I think so?" Genya nodded and you hummed, "You know, now would be the best time to visit the grocery store?"

"Why?"

"We aren't hungry now so we won't do any hasty or hunger-based shopping." You said, "Also, the only thing in the fridge is my Cola and some eggs."

"In that case, should we head out right away?"

"Yes, we can go right now! Let's take the empty pizza boxes out while we are at it," You smiled as you grabbed the boxes and you and Genya got dressed and left the apartment while dropping your garbage into the dumpster.

The two of you walked to the closest grocery store there was and you both took your separate shopping baskets in case you wanted something for only yourselves. The two of you went through the store together, thinking and suggesting different meals for dinner and meals for Sunday. As you shopped you noticed that your partner had stopped to check out the convenience food section.

"What you got there, Genya?" You asked as you walked up to him and he glanced at you over his shoulder.

"While we are here, should we grab our usual lunch boxes for Monday?" He asked and you hummed a little when an idea popped into your mind.

"Hey, uh…" You frowned as you averted your gaze in an attempt to stop yourself from blushing. What you were about to say was so silly and made you feel weird, "Now that we live together… Would you like me to prepare a bento for you?"

"You…!" Genya blinked in shock before his whole face turned red, "Y- you would make me lunch?"

"Well, I could make myself some also and we can save money with it?" You tried to reason, but the truth was that you really just wanted to spoil Genya and make him something better than your usual meat-on-rice boxes.

"Then… I would love to receive a lunch made by you," He said and you blushed as you nodded, "Then I will make you the best lunch I possibly can!"

Secretly Genya was so happy. He would happily eat anything you would make him, but hearing you say that you wanted to prepare lunch for him made his heart skip a beat. You were honestly so kind, Gods, he loved you so much! Just like you loved him.

"I'm going to grab some lunch ingredients. I'm gonna make you my supreme surprise lunch." You said as you corrected your hold on your shopping basket and left to find something to put into your partner's box.

Once you were both done with your groceries, you split the bill, but you were definitely hiding most of your groceries as you wanted to surprise Genya with his lunch and he could tell that.

The young man could barely wait for Monday and once it came, he couldn't help but notice a delicious smell in the apartment as you had woken early to cook for him. While Genya made and turned his bed into a couch again, you packed his lunch in a box.

"Alright, your lunch is ready." You said as you put the surprisingly big box on the table before asking, "How would you like your breakfast?"

"Can I have some toast?" He asked and you nodded as you turned to put some bread into the toaster, and while you were doing that, Genya went to the bathroom to wash his face and teeth, and change into his uniform.

Once this was done, he came to the kitchen and sat by the table and you placed perfectly toasted bread before him, with butter and some ham, "Please ask if you want more?"

"Thank you," Genya nodded and he truly was thankful for you waking up early to make him something. There was just one thing, "You do know that you don't need to coddle me? I'm a grown man."

"I know." You nodded as you blushed softly, before admitting, "I just like doing it."

Hearing you confess that made the poor young man blush also and the two of you could barely look at each other during the whole breakfast. Finally, you were done and you started to leave so you could make it to the school in time.

"Here," You handed Genya his lunch box and he weighed the box in his hands. It felt pretty heavy, just what had you put in there?

"You did make yourself something too, right?" He asked and you nodded as you showed him your box, "Of course."

"Alright, that's good."

"Yes… I do have a request though?"

"What is it?"

"Can you wait for me in our usual spot before you open your box? I would like to see your reaction?"

What an interesting request, but Genya was more than happy to wait for you. "Of course! I'll wait for you there!"

You smiled and the two of you bid Lady farewell as you headed to the school. While you weren't in the same classes, you were still in each others' minds.

And when lunchtime came, Genya and you met at your usual spot. You were running a little late, but Genya waited for you as he promised.

"You waited," You sounded a little surprised and the young man nodded, "Of course? I did promise, right?"

"I…" You smiled a little as you sat next to him, "Thank you. You're really sweet."

This made poor Genya blush as he turned to look at the box before him, "M- may I open it now?"

"Yes, go ahead," You grinned, "I'm excited to see how you like it."

Genya nodded and carefully lifted the lid and he could barely believe what he saw. You had made him a bacon-wrapped chicken on rice, with fresh cherry tomatoes and cucumber on the side.

"T- this looks so amazing!" Genya stuttered and you smiled, "I thought you might like meaty lunch since you did order that meat lover's pizza. I also added cucumber since it's a good palate cleanser and cherry tomatoes since they are delicious."

"Can I really eat this?" He asked and you smiled as you nodded, "Please do!"

Genya took out his utensils and used them to take a bite out of the meat and his eyes widened as the food made contact with his tongue. The bacon was just perfect and the chicken was juicy, and they both went well with rice and veggies.

"It's absolutely delicious…!" He moaned with his mouth half full. Hearing him compliment and truly like your cooking made you so happy that you actually smiled so hard that the corners of your mouth hurt.

"I'm so happy you like it!" You said and you really were happy to see him enjoy your cooking like that. He nodded eagerly and as soon as he swallowed his mouthful he looked at you.

"Can you make me more someday?" He asked and you absolutely beamed, "Of course!"

"I must make you something also!" Genya said, and you smiled, "I would love it."

[becomingkatie]

Saturday morning at 10am I was stomping around like "the weekend is half over and I haven't gotten anything done yet!" Clearly I was feeling more than a little stressed about maximizing the weekend, lol.

Saturday morning I baked a loaf that I'd mixed up Thursday night and shaped and popped in the fridge Friday morning. It's got fish peppers from my garden and cheddar cheese in it - a nod to a jalapeno cheddar loaf, but I didn't have jalapenos. The fish peppers are SPICY. Like, I cut a slice of bread and my hands tingle and then I scrub them with soap and then if I rub my eyes it still burns them. Soooo, maybe not the best? If you've ever wanted to sweat and cough from eating spicy bread, I have succeeded in making the spicy loaf for you.

Saturday night I made marry me chicken gnocchi soup. I'd say it's medium. Good enough to happily eat the leftovers of, but probably not so tasty that I'll make it again. Well, I say that, but Ken has been saying, "Next time I think I'd (insert small change here)" so I think he actually really enjoyed it and might want it again. Anyway, it's gone well with a slice of toast on the side.

We had a big finances talk Saturday, too, since even over 2 years of marriage the only joint finances we have is a credit card I got where he's an authorized user so we can have a "joint" card. We're going to be moving to a fully (or at least mostly) joined approach (with some separate savings and investments) so we are getting ready for that.

Sunday morning I was in a MUCH better mood and we went for an "easy" gravel ride where I cried on the side of the road and nearly puked in someone's driveway because it was such a challenge. I haven't been riding much, and I haven't been challenging myself much either. Combine that with having covid a few weeks ago, and it was a shock to me how hard this ride was. Ken signed us up for a "mini" 25-mile gravel ride in about 6 weeks, so I have some work to do to make that an enjoyable experience and not a sufferfest. I've done a 40-mile gravel grinder ride a few times and loved it - it just makes me really sad to be in such worse shape now than I used to be. At least I genuinely enjoy cycling so the climb back to where I want to be is something I can have fun with.

After the ride we got bagel sandwiches in the town near the start/stop point. Mine had sausage, egg, cheese, and apple butter. I'm a sweet+savory gal so it was AMAZING. And then we showered and I napped on the living room floor for half a football game. ("Ken, can you put on the football channel so I can take a nap?") After dinner I made a blueberry muffin recipe that uses sourdough discard. I'd been meaning to make them for ages and finally had discard in the fridge and time to whip them up. It said to divide into 12 muffins... I am not sure that was the right move. But they taste great.

It's going to be a busy week. Plenty of work, a vet neurologist appointment for Theo, both individual and couple's therapy on Tuesday (I hate double-therapy days ugh), and trying to stay up late and push hard to finish editing this book so I can publish it before the end of the month. This weekend we want to bike again, and I want to do some training stationary bike workouts during the week, and we also both need to make sure we have clothes (or, more likely, get some clothes) for the two October weddings we have coming up. So I am Stressed but it'll be a good time if I can manage to enjoy myself through all the busy. And people add kids on top of this??? Howwww???

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Healing isn't a race but I do intend to speedrun this I am so sick of all of my joints hurting when I have shit to do.

I was going to wait to eat some gelatin, but I gave up on that sometime today and put 2 packets in a pot of canned peaches and made myself drink the resulting slime. [not the best thing I have ever made and eaten intentionally]

Already 50% better... I was not expecting that. It's 8 pm.

At the rate this was starting to heal I was expecting to be down another week or two? Everything felt so damaged and bruised. Even with eating meat and jelly I figured it would take 3 days to a week to feel better???

I was able to climb up and down my bunk bed ladder without my knees hurting at all and they were the worst, it's been like 6 hours??? Not 3 days, not a week, 6 fucking hours?

I haven't even taken the ibuprofen I should have taken by now.

I'm sure gelatin is considered one of those high purine foods but honestly I think from the moment I manage to pee out the excess vitamins[/resulting uric acid] from the multivitamins I'll probably be good either way.

I did not end up going to the grocery store today, but it's looking like I can do that soon, without being in pain the whole time and half dying after.

My joints feel good. Like still a bit sore here and there, but like, you know how when you get so used to something being in pain, suddenly the absence of pain feels like pleasure? Yeah my joints feel good and floaty.

They are also cracking a lot more I am trying to keep them moving so they don't heal weird or something.

The rash on my biceps also isn't really coming back so much as steadily reducing.

Anyway I got all my soda in the fridge and did some more laundry already because I can fucking move.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Dr Google

Friends believe I've been thinking about vampires again.

---

Symptoms:  Pale Cold Sore teeth Nausea No Irregular pulse  Bloodlust Thirsty Sunburn

He wasn’t supposed to Google medical stuff anymore, Sloane and his Mums had told him off for it so many times he’d lost count, but Kravitz hated to make a fuss and surely it was easier to just check quickly. “Some guy mugged me apart from he didn’t take my wallet and he accidentally bit me a little bit… lottle bit” seemed like the kind of thing that would waste Dr Highchurch’s time. All he’d be able to do was whack some antiseptic on there and make some horrifying comments about the way he extracted the juices to make whatever poultice he decided was best. Kravitz had obviously disinfected the bite mark once he got home. Sure, he’d been passed out in the alley for a bit, but once he’d woken up he felt fine, he’d made it home in no time! It didn’t really seem ringing the police because nothing was taken and the bite wasn’t even really that bad, only a few teeth seemed to have pierced the skin.

The worst bit was the whole food situation. Kravitz was hungry, was the thing, ravenous, but when he’d tried to eat the leftovers in the fridge he’d puked them straight back up again. Obviously food poisoning was the logical choice, so he’d thrown them away and tried something basic instead. The toast tasted disgusting. He thought the butter might have turned, had a go at the biscuits in the cupboard instead. Also a nope. Everything tasted terrible, nothing stayed down. He knew it was important to stay hydrated when you had a stomach bug, of course, so he drank plenty of water. It wouldn’t stay put either. He tried medicine for settling his stomach, rebalancing his humours (well, salts and electrolytes according to the package), and painkillers. Nothing helped. So now it was five days since he’d eaten anything and he really really really wanted to, but he couldn’t. He didn’t really know what Dr Highchurch could suggest for that - he usually seemed to struggle a bit unless you could give him direction. Hence, the Googling. 

Kravitz was being sensible, of course, he knew the good symptom checkers. He wasn’t irresponsible, just needed some reliable health information which didn’t come with a side of arbour ardour. That didn’t seem unreasonable to ask. He input his symptoms and waited for the computer to ease his mind.

Iron deficiency anaemia

B12 deficiency anaemia 

Coma

One of those things was not like the others but unless this was some kind of incredibly vivid hallucination, Kravitz was good on the coma front. Anaemia though? He’d had low iron before and knew it could fuck you up. No point in bothering Dr Highchurch by asking for a blood test, he may as well just skip straight to the supplements. 

Kravitz was most of the way to the door when the dizziness and fatigue he’d seen on the symptom list kicked in. Sure, he’d been feeling a bit run down, but he was fit! He was healthy! He did his 10,000 steps and change every single day, he swam, he hiked! He should be able to walk a block over to the CVS even if he was a bit under the weather.

By the time he had willed himself onto the couch he was ready to admit defeat. Maybe he could just take a nap and then go? Or, even better, he could Door Dash it then take a nap until it was medicine time. Kravitz tapped around on his phone trying to figure the app out. It took a lot longer than it should have because everything seemed to be fuzzing round the edges - maybe he needed to book an eye test too, he was probably due one. Finally he was fairly convinced he’d put all the right details in and allowed his slow blinking eyes to stay shut.

“Honey, I’m home!” Yelled a strange voice as a man burst through the door of his apartment. Sure, Kravitz had said the door was open and to drop the bag inside in his notes, but this seemed excessive. Kravitz’s brain was full of sand and all he wanted to do was eat something, anything. The delivery man was handsome, handsome enough that Kravitz decided he’d rate him highly regardless of the breaking and entering. He smelled good too, really, really good.

Kravitz tried to struggle up into a sitting position, failed miserably, and hoped he didn’t look too pathetic. “Thank you.” It was at this point he realised he hadn’t spoken out loud since the mugging. Maybe the bite knocked his vocal chords around a bit because he sounded so croaky and raw.

“You okay there, Kemosabe?” The delivery guy focused in on Kravitz and his beautiful brow crinkled. “You look like shit.”

“Low iron.” Croaked Kravitz. Taako’s cologne was amazing, Kravitz could smell him from across the room but it wasn’t cloying and overpowering. There was a hint of sweetness to it, something Kravitz couldn’t place. 

“Uh huh. That is a thing that could be happening, sure.” 

“Or it could be B12, and a stomach bug.” 

“Look, I can’t leave you here without checking you’re okay my guy. If I deliver this, fuck off, and then you beef it it’s Taako who’s gonna end up getting arrested for it and that’s a big ol’ no thanks from me.”

“What Taco?” 

“Me, Goofus. Now, let me see.” 

“Like the food? I’m okay, thank you. I think just taking some of the iron tablets will help. Maybe the B12 too just in case. That should mean I can keep water down.” His throat’s feeling a bit better at least, less haggard for some practice at speaking. Maybe he needs to start talking to himself out loud, or, probably more sanely, ringing his Mums and Sloane.

“No not like the food, like the me. Tee ay ay kay oh. Now, shut up and let me make sure you’re not gonna die.”

Taako was so close now, Kravitz could reach out and touch him, Kravitz really wanted to reach out and touch him… and maybe grab him, kiss him, bite his… “Ow! Fuck!” Kravitz winced in pain. His lip throbbed, how the fuck did he manage to bite himself without moving his mouth?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you’ve got a bad case of the vampires, my guy.”

[blairsanne]

Boonies - 3- Locals

For the @deanobingo 2023 event!

Prompts: Will Johnson - "Oops" Wanted - Will Johnson x female Reader 3985 words

Summary: Will accompanies you to the market and gets a taste of the locals. He opts out of another invite, but when you come home drunk he's left with more questions once again.

CW: Alcohol use, drunken behaviour, mention of pain, mention of prior injuries, mention of scars, mention of antibiotics and Tylenol, mention of desired sexual activities, discussion of unwanted sexual attention (not noncon/SA), suggestive physical contact and kissing (T rated, dubcon).

Prev parts: 1, 2

Will woke in the blue hour light of pre-sunrise, the smell of freshly baked bread the first thing he registered. The market, right.

He remembered your comment about having an early morning and rubbed at his eyes, wondering how long you’d been up.

Stretching as he got out of the bed, he winced when his body reminded him of the leg injury he was supposed to be babying.

He wondered what the market setup would entail. Probably nothing too strenuous.

The idea of sitting behind your table doing nothing already made him feel stir-crazy, but he had decided the night before that he wanted to go with you, if only to get off your property and clear his head a bit. He still wasn’t sure if what he’d seen was real, or if he was hallucinating problems now in addition to thinking of them constantly.

He cleaned up in the ensuite and got dressed, then wandered toward the kitchen in hopes of scoring a breakfast that tasted as good as the house currently smelled.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Will teased, though the groggy rasp of his voice turned what he’d meant as a playful greeting into a tired one.

You wrapped a cooled loaf of bread in cling film, smiling as you looked over your shoulder. “Nothing at the moment. You hungry?”

Will grunted, walking over to lean against the counter near where you were standing. Various baked goods had been packaged up for sale. “I don’t want to put you out. Seems you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I was.” You smiled, satisfied with your own efforts.

“Oh, here-” You moved to pull a plate closer, revealing three cinnamon rolls. “I had one earlier, but these are for you. You don’t have to eat them right aw-”

Will took one off the plate before you could finish your sentence, brows raised and scruffy cheeks dimpled by his grin as he started ripping it apart. “Chur.”

“Well, hold on, there’s frosting, too.” You stepped away to grab a bowl from the fridge that you placed on the counter for him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked yours heated up, or what…” 

“Beauty.”

You watched as Will slathered a thick layer of frosting on his roll before continuing to pick it apart with his thick fingers. It wasn’t a refined way of eating by any means, but the rapturous look on his face forced you to forgive him any lack of manners.

Will thought to himself that he might get fat staying here, but he didn’t care if it meant eating like this.

The sun finally rose above the horizon, bathing the kitchen in a golden glow as it shone low through the windows. Will looked up to see you looking outside in the direction he’d seen the figure the night before and swallowed.

“Do you get many trespassers?” “What?” “Well, you’re-” He gestured. “Out in the wops, don’t have the best fences. Get many people on your land?”

You let out a laugh. “No, you’re the first squatter in my coop so far.”

“No theft, or- anything like that?”

“Nope.” You flashed him an easy grin. “Safe as houses. So relax.”

Will’s brow furrowed, keeping eye contact.

“I know you checked the locks last night. But I promise, nobody’s out here but us and the hens.”

He hesitated, still unsure. If he told you he thought he’d seen someone, that would either scare you or make you think he was crazy.

He forced a false laugh into his voice, turning his attention back to his food. “Right.”

You watched him for a moment, wondering what had happened to make him so vigilant.

Possibly related to those scars…

You pictured his naked torso, the image of him ripping out your fence the day earlier still fresh in your mind. He was fit and strong despite his injury. You had no doubt he’d be capable of defending himself against most people. Then again, something had clearly torn through him in the past.

Must have been something bad.

--

Will leaned back in the folding camping chair you’d offered him, enjoying the fresh morning air as people milled about in the paved area being used for the farmer’s market. He was subtly watching the crowd, knowing rationally that nothing was likely to happen, and trying to appear relaxed.

It hadn’t taken long for you to set up your table, batting away Will’s attempts to help. You had done this the same way every Saturday for months now, and you had a system. You had even packed you both coffees in travel mugs to keep you warm.

You looked over to him, thinking he looked every bit like the rugged outdoorsman he was. You could see him sitting exactly like that, relaxed beside a campfire somewhere. As you looked over his strong frame, you wondered if the chair would support both of you if you decided to sit on his lap. 

I bet he gets really worked up after a hunt; all that testosterone…

You forced yourself to look away, scanning the booths and noting all the familiar faces as you pushed the idea from your mind. Your life was here, in the boonies. His was in Dunedin.

Will sipped at his coffee, thinking idly that he looked forward to eating another cinnamon roll later.

You turned to him again, dropping your voice so nobody would hear.

“Thanks for coming, eh? It can get a bit boring sitting alone.” “Nah, no worries.” “Oh, but- feel free to look around, too.”

Will hummed, not really interested in the wares and trying to ignore the pain in his leg. He had taken the antibiotics, but no Tylenol that morning, and he was starting to regret it. Without work to distract him he was over-aware of the swelling and thrumming of his skin. Maybe I overdid it yesterday.

Not that he’d ever admit it. He’d just be sure to take something when you got back.

Soon you were trading greetings with customers, selling them roughly the same things they bought every week, or at times trading wares with another vendor who you had arrangements with. Will kept quiet, but offered polite smiles to anyone who looked his way.

Eventually Pete walked over, his large frame making his presence somewhat overbearing.

“Mornin’ love.”  “Morning.”

He gave a nod to Will. “You keeping off that leg?”

Will gestured at it from his seat. “More or less.”

Pete’s gaze turned to you. “And all’s well?”

You smiled. “Mmhmm.”

Pete narrowed his eyes at Will. “And you’re not giving her any trouble?”

“Pete-” Will raised his hands defensively. “It’s like staying at a bloody hotel. I told her not to fuss, but-”

“It’s no trouble,” you argued, slight irritation in your voice. “Just chill.”

Will snickered, shrugging at Pete as though to say ‘my hands are tied’.

Pete hummed, thinking the two of you were getting chummy, but saw to his business with you rather than pressing the issue.

“Busy day.” He tucked the loaf of bread he’d bought into a tote bag and scratched at his cheek. “Mac wants me to shave before the dance. Speaking of- Pick you up at the usual time tonight?”

“Tonight? I thought it wasn’t til the fifteenth?” “Today is the fifteenth, love.”

You checked your phone to see the date displayed above the time. “So it is.” You tucked some hair behind your ear, feeling embarrassed. “Where’s the month gone?”

“Well, I suppose when you have company, it can be a bit distracting,” he teased, raising a brow at Will to make it clear what he was implying he thought was going on between you. “See you both tonight.” He gave a pointed look to Will, then walked off before you could say anything to confirm or deny his implication.

You turned to Will and smiled. “You should come with me. It’s always a hoot.”

He grinned at your phrasing. A hoot.

“Once a month, everyone dresses up nice and we have a big dinner and dance.”

Will sucked in a breath, pretending to be disappointed. “Aw, and here I didn’t pack my suit.”

You laughed. “You don’t have to dress formally. We just do it for fun. You look great just as you are.”

Will chewed his lower lip, tearing his eyes away from you to try to think rationally. He had an uneasy feeling he couldn’t shake, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the odd encounter the night before, or the idea of being in an unknown place full of strangers. He knew he’d spend the evening eyeing exits and sizing up every person who came within a hundred feet of him.

“Still, I think I’ll give it a miss, if it’s all the same.” “Of course. Sorry! I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I just-”

He shook his head at your apology. “All good. Not my scene, that’s all.” He patted his knee. “And I reckon I should rest this so I can get out of your hair.”

You pursed your lips. “Fair enough.”

You couldn’t deny being disappointed, but he was dealing with enough without being forced into awkward social situations on top of having to stay with you when he clearly hadn’t wanted to.

“You gonna dance with Pete?” Will asked teasingly.

You laughed. “Not likely. I think his husband will eat up most of his dance card.”

Will raised his brow but nodded. That explains who ‘Mac’ is.

“Kia ora, beautiful.”

You both turned to face the man who had walked up to interrupt you.

Will first took note of the out of place attire. While most people were milling about in casual clothing, the tall, spindly man standing at your table was in an expensive looking suit. It was perfectly tailored, and, paired with the flashy watch and sunnies he was just removing, he looked like someone you’d find in Auckland, not the wop-wops.

“Mornin’, Dan,” you greeted him casually, though your voice didn’t hold nearly the level of interest that you’d been greeted with.

Will glanced your way and took note of the placid smile on your face, a stark contrast to the way Dan seemed to be undressing you with his eyes.

“Always good to see you.” Dan turned his attention to Will, tilting his head. “Though I don’t believe we’ve met.” He put out his hand. “Dan Coates.”

Will sat up straighter to shake his hand. “Will Johnson.”

“You new to town, Will?”

“Ah- no.” Will gestured dismissively. “Just visiting.”

Dan glanced between the both of you. “Oh! Family?”

“No. Will’s a chicken coop enthusiast,” you answered lightly. Will laughed while Dan tilted his head to figure out what that could possibly mean.

“I’m imposing on her hospitality,” Will corrected.

“Not even! I’m very happy to provide three square meals in exchange for free labour.”

Will narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Maybe you’re taking advantage of me, then.”

When you snorted, Dan shifted and cleared his throat. “It’s not often you have visitors,” Dan remarked.

You shrugged, uninterested in elaborating.

“I hope you’re still coming tonight?” “Yeah, I’ll be there.” “And Will?”

Will met his gaze. “Think I’ll give it a miss. Don’t want to impose.”

“That’s a shame,” Dan lied, relief washing over his features. He gestured to your stock. “I’ll get a dozen eggs?”

You replied with the price, and made no particular fanfare as you accepted it and said a quick thanks.

“See you tonight.” Dan winked, then walked off, head held high.

Will waited until Dan was out of earshot to lean over. “That jafa seems to like you.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion as you tucked the money in your cash box. “What’s a jafa?”

Will laughed under his breath. “Uh- nevermind. It’s not a nice thing to say.”

You raised your brows and turned to him again. “Dan Coates is a pillar of the community,” you began, in a mock-chastising tone. “And I’m told - repeatedly - that he is sorely lacking in a wife.”

“Must be ‘cause he blends right in.”

You covered your mouth to try to silence your laugh, and Will found himself smiling as he took note of the way your eyes wrinkled at the effort.

“You’re terrible,” you whispered, pulling yourself together as another customer made their way closer to your table.

Will smiled to himself as you seemed to light up for this new person, and he thought idly that Dan must have been dense to think you were interested in him given how your demeanor had changed so drastically when he’d shown up. 

He looked out into the crowd and spotted him chatting up an older woman who was practically fawning. The man seemed to have everyone else eating out of the palm of his hands, so maybe it just didn’t occur to him that you’d be any different.

When you were alone at the table again, Will drummed his fingers against its edge. “Why don’t you fancy Mr. Coates, then?” he asked quietly.

“What?” You’d already forgotten about him, and was surprised by Will bringing him up.

“If he’s such a fine, upstanding man?”

You rolled your eyes. “He is, you know? He’s very good to everyone. I don’t dislike him, exactly. He’s just not my type, that’s all.”

“Oh, you have a type.”

“Well- No, that’s not- I just…” You winced, shoulders raising in discomfort. “I dunno, he doesn’t do it for me.”

“And what does?”

The air was thick between you as you met each other’s gazes. 

Oh, you know… Piercing blue eyes and golden curls and thick muscles… The kind of man who can rip out fence posts while recovering from a leg injury and still feel restless. Someone who would rather hunt to provide than pick out luxury sunglasses to wear to the farmer’s market…

Will’s eyes darted down to your lips and back, and you licked them unconsciously. He tilted his head the other way, but just as he parted his lips to say something, another customer appeared at the table.

“Kia ora!”

“Oh- g’morning.” You shifted in your seat and forced a smile that slowly became genuine as you chatted up the woman who was picking out baked goods.

Will leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee, reminding himself that it was probably better he drop that particular line of thinking.

---

Late that afternoon, you stepped into the living room after having gotten ready for the evening.

Will stilled at the sight of you, momentarily rethinking declining your invitation. You looked almost like a different person, your hair perfectly styled, sporting smokey eye makeup and false lashes, and looking completely out of his league in the backless dress you were wearing.

“Pete and Mac are on their way to pick me up. Dinner’s in the fridge, and help yourself to whatever,” you greeted, worried he wouldn’t eat without your insistence.

He blinked as though coming out of a daze. “Uh- yeah, ta. Will do.”

You caught the way he was looking at you and chewed your lower lip. “Is it too much? Should I change?”

“No! No, you look skux.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “Skux? Is that a good thing?”

He laughed under his breath, hanging his head and shutting his eyes momentarily before looking up through his long, pale lashes.

“Yeah. You look great.”

He shifted and licked his lips. “Pete’s a lucky man.”

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.”

He chuckled but shook his head. “Oh, no, don’t.” 

He looked you over again and raised his brows. “I bet Dan Coates will be all over you,” he teased.

“Oh god.” You rolled your eyes and groaned. “Probably. What a drag.”

He snickered, secretly relieved that you thought so.

You pouted playfully. “You sure I can’t twist your arm into coming? You’d save me a lot of trouble.”

He contemplated it, but shook his head. “Nah. Not my scene.”

You sighed dramatically. “Well, alright then. It can’t be helped.”

You both perked up at the sound of a vehicle on the gravel road.

“That’ll be Pete. See you tonight!”

---

Will heard the crunch of a vehicle on the gravel road, but frowned when he realized it didn’t sound like the truck you’d left in.

He got out of bed still naked and walked to the window to peer through the sun-faded curtains.

A shiny red sedan pulled up the driveway out front, and he saw you get out the passenger side as Dan Coates opened the driver door.

He watched you gesture dismissively at Dan, looking grumpy and out of sorts as you made your way to the house. Dan simply stood watching, finally climbing back into his vehicle as Will heard you unlock the front door.

He let go of the curtain and returned to the bed, wondering if it would be odd of him to greet you. He sat in the dark, listening, but after several minutes, you still hadn’t made your way down the hall to your room.

He huffed. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to sleep now anyway, too many scenarios running through his mind.

He took a pair of grey joggers from his pack and pulled them on hastily before opening the bedroom door.

The kitchen light illuminated the end of the hallway, and he could hear you making some unfamiliar noise there. As he approached, he realized what it was.

He stepped into the room to see you leaning against the counter beside the sink, an open beer in one hand, and the other pressing at your face as you cried quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

You dropped your can in alarm, beer spilling over the tiled floor. “Jesus-”

Will moved to deal with the mess, righting the can and throwing the kitchen towel from your oven handle over the puddle.

He gazed up at you from his crouching position by your feet.

“Oops. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, I-”  You sniffled, wiping at your face. “I just forgot you were here. Sorry.”

How you could have possibly forgotten about the dreamboat houseguest for even a moment, you weren’t sure. And now he was wiping the floor clean for you in nothing but joggers, looking like he lived here. As if. That would be lovely, but you told yourself not to be deluded.

You moved away, pulling a clean towel out of a cupboard as he placed the sullied one - and your half-empty can - in the sink.

When you both were done, he stood before you, his impossibly blue eyes searching your now-reddened ones.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated. “Doesn’t matter.”

He shrugged, a smile playing on his lips, eyes soft with affection. “Tell me anyway.”

You sighed, hugging yourself as you looked away. “It’s just- There comes a time in the night where everyone just… pairs off. So I’m standing there, alone, watching all the old couples dancing…” You shut your eyes as you trailed off, wincing as you recalled how awkward you’d felt and what had happened next.

Will hummed. “And you with no date of your own.”

“That was part of it.” You shrugged, feeling stupid. You’d gotten wasted in an attempt to ease your discomfort, but it had just made you ornery.

Will stepped over to the boombox that sat on top of the sideboard buffet. He pressed play, unsure what to expect when the CD whirred to life inside.

You laughed when Michael Bublé’s version of ‘Put Your Head on My Shoulder’ started playing. “Oh god, Aunt Macy…”

But Will stepped over to you with his hands out to invite you to dance, his expectant expression telling you he was serious about the offer.

You took his hands and swallowed as he guided one to his shoulder so he could grip your waist on that side, your other hands held fast, palm-to-palm. You let him lead you in slow, careful steps on the uneven kitchen tiles.

“You’re a better dancer than I would have thought,” you murmured. Especially with a leg injury.

Will smiled sardonically. “Picked it up cuz chicks love to slow dance, and loads of guys won’t do it.”

You snickered, moving closer to hug him close like you did at school dances as a teen. Lost in the euphoria of pressing against his bare torso, you shut your eyes to stop the room from spinning.

You could feel his body radiating heat, warming your bare shoulders and arms as you tried to identify what he smelled like.

“It’s nice,” you murmured. You wanted to stay like this for a long time.

He swallowed, moving his hand up your back to hold you close. It happened to find the exposed skin, and he wondered suddenly if this was alright.

You were clearly drunk, and you barely knew each other. He thought again about how vulnerable you’d made yourself, letting a strange man into your home like this, knowing what other men might do in this situation; how they might hurt you. 

His hand twitched against your bare back and he pressed his chin to your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin.

You should know better, he thought. You should be more careful.

Of course, you weren’t at all concerned about him being a threat. You were completely comfortable in his hold, despite only knowing him a few days. Blissed out, your sour mood had completely dissolved thanks to his kind gesture. To you, Will was just further proof that the world could be good to you if you gave it a chance. 

You pulled back a bit, moving your head to try to meet his gaze. He mirrored your actions, tucking his lower lip under his teeth briefly as you searched his pale blues.

“You should have come,” you lamented. One of your hands moved up to cup his scruffy cheek. “I would have liked that much better.”

He frowned, still unclear what exactly had happened to upset you.

Then you tipped forward, catching him off-guard. He stilled as your lips met his, his eyes closing as he kissed back automatically before he could think straight. It was only when he identified the taste of alcohol in your kiss that he stopped.

Fuck, what am I doing?

He pulled away suddenly as the song ended and hit the stop button on the machine. He wiped his mouth with his hand as he took a deep breath, then turned to face you again.

“We should get you to bed,” he suggested.

You pointed at him, then stepped closer to boop his nose. “I will get myself to bed.”

Will nodded, tense with discomfort. That had more or less been what he meant, but he understood that you may have taken that as him trying it on. “Good.”

“Thank you for the dance.” “My pleasure.” “Good night Will Johnson.”

“Night,” he nodded. “Oh! Bring your water bottle.” “For bed?” “For the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow.”

You gestured dismissively.

“Pahhhh.”

Still, he pulled your bottle out of the fridge and pressed it into your hands before watching you stumble down the hallway.

Your nonchalance made him question what you’d been thinking when you’d kissed him. Were you too drunk to realize? Though he couldn’t deny he’d wanted to kiss you for days now. A conversation for tomorrow.

He shook his head, smiling to himself, but after a moment he leaned against the counter and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

His mind raced with impossible scenarios; Kel Morrison and his men surrounding the cottage, trying to get in. Trying to get him. Or you.

He winced at the pain in his leg - maybe dancing had been a bit ambitious when it had already been giving him grief - but knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he checked all the doors and windows again.

---

A/N: The WIP currently has 8 parts so we'll see how that goes (usually the stories grow as I write them... oops). Thank you so much for reading this if you did! ♥

Tags: @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @the-butterfly-blues @the-poldarkian @fortheloveofdurin @spngingerbread21 @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @missihart23

As always, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from a taglist (for everything, for specific characters, etc.)

[punkranger]

Small front-page crimes

Antoine finds a way to entertain himself in the Ranger's break room, Ortega is suspicious (and also a vindictive lil shit) and Daniel just wants things out in the open.

Chargeflystep(-ish), 2k. Warnings: just Sidestep being Sidestep. Retribution spoilers.

The Ranger’s break room is empty, as usual. Being a hero is hard work, you know that. Being a villain is more so, though in a way the work is easier. You don’t need to worry about consequences, they’ll come either way, but a single miss-step won’t brand you forever - too late for that, you’ve already been branded and tossed away. 

The room is empty, too empty. All closed cabinets, nothing lying around - this time there aren’t even any dirty dishes. The sterility makes you uncomfortable, a restless itch crawling over your skin, bad memories swarming to the surface, threatening to break through. Break, tear, blood on the concrete- no! Focus, this is now, there’s no blood, no concrete, just plastic furniture and shining, spotless surfaces… 

You go to a cabinet, open it up. Rows of cups, all the same. Grimace and close the cabinet again. 

Go to the fridge. You don’t want to eat, but you need a distraction. You wonder if Argent would know if you touched her leftovers. Probably. You reach out. Stop. Even you have some sense of self-preservation left and you shudder as your hand almost touches the box of take-out. Likely to take you out, she can’t take a joke – not from you anyway. Close the fridge door.

Okay, okay, okay. A distraction. Something. Your eyes fall on the newspaper on the table. You hadn’t seen it before- no that’s not true, a lie, that’s what not truth is, what they always told you. Doesn’t matter, you’ve taught yourself to lie again.

Your eyes slide off the newspaper, unable to focus, just seeing that picture… 

You pick up the newspaper, force yourself to look at it.

Ortega on the front, like then. 

But this time it’s different. Of course it is, that was seven years ago. This is now and Ortega is dressed in a faded hoodie (you’re sure half the article will be talking about that, distracting people from the important parts), his posture is not like you remember it from that day though, it’s his normal, straight-backed, heroic stance – ready for anything, including questions. He’s not wearing the glasses either, did they get knocked off in the chaos or did he take them off before talking to the media? You smirk, but it soon fades as you look more closely at his face – nothing to hide the wrinkles and the scars, not even that stupid mustache. Nothing to hide your mistakes. 

Ah, there’s an idea. 

You look around, curse. Of course there’s no pen lying around, nothing is lying around here except this newspaper. Well, you have time, if nothing else. So, you set out to rummage in all the drawers – neat rows of cutlery, nope, too many kitchen implements for a simple break room (did Ortega make them buy all this so he could cook here?), those things you put in coffee machines (you’ve never learned what they’re called)... ah! Bingo. 

There’s one drawer that has pens in it, markers specifically (of course Argent wouldn’t bring one just so she could write “Don’t Touch!” on her food). Your smirk is back now, this time a little sinister. 

Time for some fun.

Sitting down, you uncork the marker, test it on the edge of the newspaper, the heavy black color of it smooth, like oil, new and hardly used. Perfect. You move it to Ortega’s face, pause slightly – not regret, just thinking about where to start, you only have the one picture, you’d best make the most of it. 

Having made the decision, you put the tip down and draw a pair of thick, black glasses around Ortega’s eyes. Pausing, you bite the back of the marker, considering your next step. That scar annoys you. Couldn’t they have made it less obvious? Most pictures of Ortega are taken in better, softer light, preferably with make-up to cover the most obvious flaws. This one must have managed to slip past the media team, they wouldn’t usually allow anything less than perfect on a front page. Of course, more and more have slipped past them recently, your exploits certainly haven’t helped them keep the Ranger’s image pristine. 

Well, you suppose you can help them a little, this time. So, obviously, you set the pen down on the paper again and draw in a mustache over Ortega’s upper lip, covering up the scar, the mistakes. 

The finished result makes you snigger. All Ortega needed to look like a bad impression of a cartoon character was a pair of glasses and a mustache, huh. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

You practically throw the pen and paper away from you – not that that helps absolve you from guilt, more like the opposite. So instead you turn to distraction.

Turning around, you glare at Ortega, leaning against the doorway as if he’s been standing there for a while – you know he hasn’t, he couldn’t have, he’s just doing it to annoy you.

“Why are you sneaking around in your own headquarters like a thief? Were you going to steal Argent’s leftovers?”

Ortega snorts, walks up beside you to pick up the paper, raising one brow as he takes in your masterpiece. 

“Really? This is stooping low even for you, vandalisation of Ranger property…”

“So you admit you’re property?” He flinches, your attempt at deflection turning into something too cynical, too sharp. 

Doesn’t stop him, though.

“This is a bit unfair, isn’t it? I can’t even retaliate when you never let anyone take pictures of you.” The words are light, and soft as flowing silk, obscuring the things he doesn’t say, but still showing the shape of them underneath. Accusations that are never said, but hinted at. 

“Guess you have to find another way,” you say, your smile sharp and hard, “can’t always follow the same rules when the game’s changed, old man.”

Ortega doesn’t rise to the bait, instead he matches your smile and you feel like you’re holding your hand over something static, knowing you’ll be shocked if you touch it. Of course, that’s never been enough to stop you before. And it certainly doesn’t stop Ortega.

Instead, he leans over you – too close, you smell his cologne, mixing with ozone, magnetic and dangerous – and grabs the pen and you notice just in time to roll backward, the chair tumbling with you to the floor with a crash. 

Ortega is quick though– Shit! He’s already in front of you when you stand up, the stolen pen brandished like a weapon in his hand, grin wide – gleeful, cocky. 

“Got you…” You try to duck, but he’s backed you against the counters – at least he hasn’t grabbed you. Not that he needs to. You still feel the cold, wet tip of the pen draws a jagged line on your forehead when you try to escape. 

At least you know where it is now, and you snatch the pen from his hand – or you would, he doesn’t let go. You feel the black bleed over the palm of your hand. Snap! Broken in half, the cartridge expelling its dye in every direction.

“Damn it, Ortega!” 

He’s swearing too much to take notice of your own exclamation, looking down at his pants - light, expensive fabric now spotted with splotches of black. Your own clothes are also stained, but you don’t really care, you’re more annoyed about your forehead - you almost rub at the spot, but remember at the last moment that your hand is also stained. 

A sigh. Neither of you.

You twist, hackles up, but it’s just Chen, standing in the doorway, looking tired. You look away, meet Ortega’s eyes instead. They go from annoyed, to slightly guilty, to amused as they fix on your forehead. You roll your eyes, push him away (oops, forgot you had dye on your hands… maybe) and walk over to the sink.

“I’m not going to ask, just clean up this mess.” Chen’s voice is extremely tired, and sharpens at the last part – the Marshal is obviously tired of messes in the kitchen. He turns around and leaves before either of you can reply. Not that you had planned to. This is Ortega’s mess, no way you’re helping him clean.

Ortega also sighs, looking down at his clothes. 

“Well, that was stupid.”

“If by ‘that’ you mean you, yes.” 

“Rude, you started it.”

“I was just sitting here!”

“And drawing on-”

“Hey, is everything–?” Daniel’s voice cuts over Ortega, fluttering wings brushing over your mind - concerned, but it seems like he’s quickly realizing it’s not as bad as it looks. 

“It’s all Ortega’s fault,” you say, quick to establish blame before Ortega can talk himself out of it.

“It is not!”

A loud groan from Daniel prevents you from continuing the argument, and both of you turn to Daniel instead as he drags a hand through his hair. 

“Okay,” he says, voice unusually sharp as he stares both of you down, “what’s this actually about?”

You look at Ortega, daring him to speak first. He doesn’t, so you look away. Guess neither of you is ready to face the truth, or at least speak it. 

Because you know he knows. The tension, the looks… 

“Is this about me and Antoine having coffee?”

You almost choke on a breath as Ortega quickly – too quickly – jumps in with denials.

“No! No, not at all!” He pauses, looking between you and Daniel, you can practically smell his brain working, and you get the sense you’ve traded one uncomfortable argument for another. “We should probably talk about that, though.”

“...Right.” Daniel sounds reluctant and you don’t blame him, you can also tell he knows Ortega’s distracting him, but he lets it go. Instead, he walks into the room and sits down at the table. 

You look longingly at the door, but both Ortega and Daniel are between it and you. Ortega rights up the chair you fled from earlier and keeps one hand on the back of it while gesturing for you to sit in it. 

“Come on, it’s probably best that we talk about this now rather than later.” He attempts to sound confident, but you can tell he’s almost as reluctant as you to have this conversation. 

You feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your stomach, an echo enhanced by Daniel’s nervous thoughts. Not that he shows it much. Huh. You didn’t expect him to be more confident with Ortega also around, or better at keeping the mask on at least. 

Slowly, you walk up to the table, feeling like you’re waist-deep in water and seeing it rise, trying to not think about what the outcome of this conversation could be. What you might lose.

Beep-Beep!

Both Daniel’s and Ortega’s communicators startle the three of you in the otherwise silent room and they both jump up looking at each other. You don’t even bother to hide your relief.

“Sorry, Antoine, we have to take care of this!”

“Yes, it’s- it’s- we’ll talk more later!”

Daniel throws a smile over his shoulder as he rushes out, Ortega stops briefly after he leaves but doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look that says he’ll definitely talk to you later. You give him the finger and his lips twitch, then he’s gone. 

You sink back in your chair in boneless relief for a moment, thanking whoever is causing problems this time – maybe you should send them flowers later, depending on who it is, they saved you from two uncomfortable conversations and you’re sure you’ll be able to put those off for a while now. 

After a deep sigh, you get up. Better not be here when they’re back. It’s not like you have anything to do here now anyway, aside from snooping around, but you don’t want to risk running into Chen if he’s still around.

You rub your temples – then stop. Damn Ortega. Maybe the receptionist has something that can remove marker stains?

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Light Street Apartments

*Warning Adult Content*

By the time Emmett Locke punched in the gate code to the apartment complex on Light Street, which Finnegan Walker had kindly provided, he felt a bit like he'd driven onto movie set. He'd lived in Baltimore his whole life, apart from a several years spent mostly overseas but he'd never been in this section of town and was pretty sure nothing this nice had existed in Baltimore even five years ago. He found Finnegan's assigned spot, passed by a swanky fitness room that he would have loved to use and pushed the elevator button for the fourth floor. He couldn't help but smooth down the front of his shirt and run his fingers through his hair before walking down the hallway towards apartment 4B.

"Oh hi. You made good time. One second," Finnegan said, by way of greeting, when he opened the door.

Before Emmett could answer, he held one finger up and was talking into the headset he was wearing. Emmett stood awkwardly at the door, not sure if he was supposed to go in or not. On one hand, he had been nice enough to fix Finnegan's car and drive the whole way over here but on the other hand, a man's home was his castle and he wasn't about to go barging in when the two of them had gotten off on the wrong foot. With his luck, Finnegan would call the cops although he had no doubt that this building had its own security.

Instead of just looking busy, Emmett actually tried to accomplish something and pulled up the bus routes to find out which he'd need to catch. He didn't like the look of the sky out of the floor to ceiling windows and was hoping to get onto the bus before it started pouring. Or maybe, just maybe, he'd get lucky and Andy would return his call.

"Sorry," Finnegan cooed, motioning Emmett inside.

"Work. Thank you so much for bringing my car here."

Emmett held out the keys towards him and he took them gladly, wondering for just a second if he should go down and make sure the car was actually fixed before assuming this mess was over with.

"You probably have a ride waiting. I didn't mean keep you."

"Buses come and go, no worries."

And it was true, Emmett wasn't worried about rain, he was much more worried about the state of Finnegan's face.

"Did you put some ice on that?"

"No and no frozen peas either but it's fine."

As if God himself was striking down the lie that had fallen easily from Finnegan's lips, lightning flashed so brightly that the entire room lit up. Getting wet didn't bother him but lightning, on the other hand, was a huge worry for Emmett. He turned his head away from the windows and braced himself for the thunder that would soon follow.

"Are you okay?" Finnegan inquired.

"Wait, did you say a bus? You can't go out in this."

Emmett stuck his hands in his pockets and took a slow, deep breath before opening his eyes.

"I'm fine."

Finnegan wasn't sure why they were both lying but he only had a second to think about it because what came out of his mouth next was a much bigger conundrum.

"I'm going to cook dinner if you want to stay and wait out the storm. Or I could drive you back, I think."

The idea of driving hadn't appealed to him an hour ago and it certainly didn't sound like a good idea now that it was pouring rain.

"Let's eat. It's the least I can do after you fixed my car."

Emmett couldn't quite figure out what had sparked the change in attitude but maybe Finnegan was just a much nicer guy when he was wearing jeans that fit him like a second skin and a long-sleeved tee that had a huge M on it. He felt like he should recognize the symbol but didn't. Granted, accidents rarely brought out the best in people and maybe he had judged him too quickly. He just didn't seem like the kind of person Emmett would ever, ever hang around with. Finnegan was already rooting around in the fridge and he felt like he had to say something.

"So, this is a nice place."

"I rented it mostly for the kitchen. It's amazingly difficult to find a really nice kitchen in Baltimore."

"It's difficult to find a really nice anything in Baltimore," Emmett scoffed.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

He'd been fairly sure before but now there was no doubt.

"No, Michigan."

Ah, Emmett realized that the M on his shirt was definitely the Michigan Wolverines logo.

"Are you allergic to anything?" Finnegan asked, turning towards him.

"No."

"Vegetarian? Vegan? Kosher? Halal? Picky?" he asked, counting them off as he raised each finger of his left hand before turning back to his cutting board.

Emmett wondered if Finnegan was always this thorough but he couldn't help but be amused.

"I'll eat whatever you put in front of me, Finnegan."

He turned, paring knife in hand and a mocking grin spread across his face when he saw Emmett's reaction.

"I was just going to say that you've seen the inside of my car and now you know where I live, so I guess you can call me Finn."

And why was that, he wondered. He'd spent the last four months pushing people away and now all of a sudden he had decided to open up his home to a stranger who had caused him so much distress? Either he was lonelier than he realized or really needed to get laid, he thought, chuckling to himself.

Alas... Mr. buff here had at best a 50/50 chance of playing for his team. It was a shame, really, he decided and then surprised himself at thinking that way at all. Emmett was definitely not his type and even if he was, Finnegan knew he was in no shape to be wooing anyone tonight. He looked like a drunk hooker had rubbed her purse on his face, for fuck's sake. When Finnegan pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, Emmett couldn't help but gasp.

"You've got ink."

Nothing could have surprised him more. It wasn't a little bit either, both of his forearms were completely covered.

"Oh, yeah. Almost have both sleeves done. A bit of work left to do on my right shoulder."

"How does that...? How do you...?" Emmett mumbled, stumbling over his thoughts.

"You're such a prep."

"I guess that's a step up from punk but you know, Emmett, you shouldn't judge a book by its' cover. I mean, if I had judged you like that, I never would have let you into my house. I'm surprised someone who looks like you do... is so close-minded."

He had a point but Emmett wasn't quite finished.

"So what's with the monkey suit?"

"It's called a job, Emmett."

It was hard enough getting the respect he deserved even when he was dressed to the nines, there was no way he could get away with wearing business casual, not at his age.

"Sorry, no, you're right. I guess I just had this image in my head of you getting out of that roadster with the shirt and tie and handing me a fancy business card and you're right, I shouldn't have assumed."

He had no idea what Finnegan had sizzling on the top of the stove but it smelled divine.

"That smells really good. Do I still get to eat or should I go?"

Finnegan deglazed the pan with half a bottle of white wine and sighed, turning around.

"I'm sorry. I had a very long week and a rather rough day and that probably came out harsher than it should've. We don't know each other, no worries."

"But maybe we should," Emmett voiced before his brain could stop him.

Finnegan smiled, adjusted his estimate to 80/20 and reconsidered his earlier thoughts about Emmett, quickly deciding that types were boring.

"Maybe you're right."

[strawbrygashez]

POSTAL/JET SET RADIO CROSSOVER FIC

HOME (part 2 :D)

Nothing too crazy this part but YEAHH 💃🕺pls again don’t bully me !!

————————————————————————

“Champ?” Dude repeated to himself, putting the rest of his health pipes and god knows what else away in the old drawer before shutting it and seemingly remembering where his beloved pup was. “Oh yeah. I asked Uncle Dave to watch him for me for a bit. Had this thing come up where I would be gone for a bit. Yknow how it is.” Dude vaguely replied before making his way to the small, equally covered with random junk, kitchen and rummaged around. Beat raised a eyebrow at the reply. It was a answer that left questions but he supposed it was good of a answer as any, especially from his dad. “I guess..Anyways-” Beat was cut off by Dude grumbling and closing the fridge. “Shit..barely got anything good to eat around here. Especially not enough for a little kid.”

Beat decided to ignore the ‘little kid’ part of that for now. “Oh, uh I’m sorry. You don’t gotta worry about me though. I could probably find some kinda way-” Beat stopped talking again when his dad shook his head. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. The thing I was out busy doing got me paid the other day. Besides, we haven’t had a father-son outting in ages and we can pick up Champ after.” Dude picked up his old black leather jacket off a ‘dining’ chair as he continued with a grin, “Cmon, It’s a nice day out.” This made Beat even more confused. “A nice day out?! It was hot as hell on my way here!! I was practically melting out there… I don’t know how you go around wearing that coat…” Dude only chuckled in response as he patted his pockets, making sure he indeed had everything on him. Assured with the fact he did, he made his way over to Beat and placed a hand on his back and helped lead him out of the trailer, kicking whatever shit was blocking the path out of the way. “You’ll get used to it. You grew up here for a couple years. You just need that American blood to kick in.” Beat rolled his eyes with a small huff of a laugh “I’m not sure that’s how that works.”

-

Somehow, something only just occurred to Dude about his son as they rounded over into the second block. Something that made him roll his eyes with a grin. “Yknow, you’re really aren’t the one to talk about what someone is wearing right?” He pointed out with a soft nudge. “Huh?”“You’re wearing roller skates on a trip to the store.” Dude clarified, he almost gave a little kick a skate but luckily he realized that maybe kicking his sons skates isn’t the best idea. Beat had to look down, like he didn’t even realize he was still in them. “Oh..yeah. Well, I mean it’s nothing new for me. I go around town in these everywhere back home.” He explained with a shrug before looking back up. “Hmm…You didn’t bring a normal pair of shoes? You came all the way here with only those? I guess I can get you a pair while you’re here.” When either Dude knew it or not, he always ended up offering pretty much anything Beat could ever need or want when he visited. Even when he was younger and when Beats mom and Dude had split and Dude was left with barely enough to get by himself. He would have loved to have been able to have done so much more for the two of them to be honest. If only had the whole thing had happened later in his life and not when he was facing the darker parts of his mental health…but those thoughts are the kind he tries to push to the back of his mind for the most part. And usually when the thoughts do come to the forefront of his mind, he would like to have a drink in his hand and whatever else he could find to help get his mind away from dwelling on it- away from the thoughts of all the could have beens in his life.

“I’m good. I did bring shoes but left them in that bag I brought. Just forgot to switch into them before we left. These are fine anyways..getting around in these feel about as natural as walking to me.” He assured him with a grin. Dude thought for a moment before shrugging also. “Alright then. Just don’t wanna hear you trying to diss my style again.” He joked before focusing back onto the street and the area around them. Man….it was really hot out. He wasn’t gonna tell Beat that he was right about that though… Hopefully it wasn’t too hot outside for Champ if the mutt was playing outside at Dave’s.. wait a minute. “Do you even remember uncle Dave? Man, I don’t think you have seen him in forever either…he had that high pitched voice?” Dude asked. Not that he really cared if Beat didn’t know what little of Dudes side of the family he had left. Beat thought to him self for a moment with a quiet ‘hmm’ before answering. “To be honest..not really. Maybe a little? I think I remember some guy at a birthday party once that might have been him but I’m not sure.”

“Ah well. That’s fine. He asks about you sometimes. I never have much to tell him besides that time you told me you got a dog of your own and you were so excited about it. Hey wait, where is your dog? Potts? Or whatever its name was.” Without thinking Beat answered “my boyfriend-” Beats face started to burn a bit at the slip up “Shit. I mean.. my friend back home is looking after him.” He quickly looked somewhere off to the side, hoping his father would just ignore what he’d accidentally confessed. “Boyfriend?” Dude asked with a smirk. He really didn’t give a shit about whoever Beat found himself liking and told him so. “Dumbass, I don’t care if you’re gay or just into guys…you know there is this one gay bar in town and sometimes when I have nothing else to do on a Friday night-” Now it was Beats turn to nudge Dude with a chuckle of his own “Okay,okay! I don’t wanna know about how that goes or ends.” Dude grinned as well before ruffling Beats hair that color matched his own so closely. “Fine then. Didn’t wanna relate to you and make you feel better anyways…take this turn up here. We’re about there.”

[believingispowerfulmagic]

The Surprise (Better When I’m Dancing)

Summary:  During the latest season of Dancing With the Stars, Regina starts to feel overly tired and not well. Both she and Robin worry that something may be wrong - beyond an infuriating partner.

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 6: Respite

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt: 

Regina slept in for the first time in months. Even the baby didn't make her sick, allowing her to get at least eight solid hours of sleep. She woke up feeling more refreshed than she had in weeks.

It was glorious.

Slipping out of bed, Regina put on her robe before padding down to the kitchen. Robin looked up from his newspaper, smiling. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"Like a baby," she said, putting the kettle over for tea. "How about you?"

"Same," he replied. "I forgot how tiring the competition can be."

The kettle whistled and she poured herself a cup of tea. "I'm glad to be in the troupe now. The schedule is definitely easier and I'll be home more."

"I like the sound of that," Robin said, pressing his hand to her back. "Why don't you go sit down? I'll get you breakfast."

She picked up her mug, smiling at him. "I'm not going to say no to that."

"I didn't think so," he replied, kissing her. "Do you want anything in particular?"

"No," she said, patting his chest. "Whatever you want to make, I'll eat."

He nodded. "Sounds good. Go sit and I'll have breakfast ready in no time."

"Music to my ears," she teased him, sitting down at the table. "That might be your best song yet."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, laughing. "I've been meaning to get some time in the recording studio."

She frowned. "I thought you were going to take a break because of the baby?"

"I am," he said, opening the fridge. "But it still doesn't mean I'm not going to write or play anything. You still dance in between seasons, right?"

"Of course. I need to keep my skills…" She trailed off, nodding as she realized why Robin wanted to spend time in his studio. "You need to practice and keep your skills up as well."

He nodded. "Pretty much. And I have a lot of songs in me. I want to get them out and ready for when it's time to put out our next album."

"Fair enough," she said, sipping her tea again.

Robin carried over a bowl of yogurt with some cut up strawberries mixed into it. He set it down in front of her. "There you go," he said.

"Thank you," she replied, eagerly scooping up some yogurt and strawberries. "How did you know?"

He kissed her cheek as he sat down next to her. "I'm your husband. I think I'm an expert on all things Regina Mills."

"So am I an expert on all things Robin Locksley?" she asked before eating another spoonful of yogurt.

"Probably," he said, nodding. "Maybe we should play the Newlywed Game one day with Mary Margaret, David, Emma and Killian."

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. "That actually might be fun."

"I know," he replied. "We can make a whole night of it. Dinner, music, games, snacks, the whole works."

"Maybe when we celebrate the holidays," Regina said, before pausing as she realized it was now November. "Oh, shit, the holidays are going to be here before we know it. We should probably start planning."

He placed his hand over hers. "We can worry about that later. Today is all about resting and relaxing for you."

"I may not be competing anymore but I'm still on the show," she reminded him as he was talking as if it was the day after the finale. "I still have rehearsals to go to."

He nodded. "But not today. I checked."

She wanted to be annoyed at him but all she felt was gratitude. Taking another bite of yogurt, she grinned. "Resting and relaxing, huh?"

"Yes," he replied. "Think you can do that?"

"It's a tall order," she replied, trying her best not to smile. "But I think I can do it."

He smiled. "Good."

She leaned closer to him. "Maybe you could help me relax? Either before or after you spend time in the recording studio?"

"Oh, I absolutely plan on helping you relax," he said, kissing the side of her head. "I am going to spend an hour or two in the studio, come back for lunch and then you have me all to yourself until the boys come home. How does that sound?"

"That sounds perfect," she replied, eager to spend some quality time with her husband. She kissed his cheek. "I'm looking forward to it."

He smiled. "Me too."

"So what am I supposed to do while you're in the studio?" she asked him, enjoying another spoonful of yogurt.

"Whatever you want to do to relax," he replied. "A bath, a nap, a movie, a dance, whatever."

She hummed, finishing up her yogurt. "I think I need to think about it."

He nodded, taking her empty bowl as he kissed the top of her head. "Just as long as it's relaxing. That's the only condition," he told her.

"Don't worry," she assured him. "I can do that."

"I am sure," he said, washing the bowl and setting it in the dishwasher. He straightened up and looked at her. "I'm heading down to the studio. You know how to get me if you need me."

She nodded, standing and walking toward them. Regina hugged him. "Have a good session."

"Thank you," he replied, giving her a good hug back. "And you enjoy your day of resting and relaxing."

"Oh, I will," she promised him, pulling back. She looked him over, wishing she could drag him to bed and tear off his clothes right then. "Especially once you come join me."

He bit his lip, looking at her as hungrily as she felt. "Oh, I hope so."

She waved him off. "Go, create. And then we can have our fun later."

"Oh, yes, we will," he said, walking backwards as he pointed to her with both hands. "You can count on it."

"Just be careful," she told him, crossing her arms as she shook her head. "We can't have fun if you're injured."

He chuckled, nodding. "I'll be careful."

As he disappeared from her sight, Regina sighed as she looked around the kitchen. She drummed her fingers on the counter before deciding to do some light exercise. It wouldn't be good to not do anything after the workout she had performing the night before and some exercises would be good for her muscles. Then she would relax and watch some TV before lunch.

Once lunch was over, she would spend some quality with her husband until the boys came home.

It would be the perfect day.

Excited, she left the kitchen and returned to her room to get her perfect day started.

[kellanved-ammanas]

What Did I Ever do to Deserve You?

Summary: Medic needs a break. Pyro ensures he takes one.

~

Most days, after battle Medic locked himself up in his lab. He needed alone time with just his birds after enduring everyone clamoring for his attention, needing healing and/or wanting the ubercharge. Pyro understood that; he also liked to be alone upon returning to base after combat as he came down from the high of it. They both always came out for supper though.

Often, but not always, Medic would come out first. They’d then eat supper together in Medic’s lab or Pyro’s room and then they’d hang out for the rest of the day. Often, they’d do work stuff, either Pyro helping him with something or just them working on their own things in the same room, or Pyro doing whatever he felt like while Medic worked. Sometimes, though, they’d play a game or when at a base that got a radio signal they’d sometimes dance to whatever music was on if it was upbeat or slow and romantic enough to do so. Didn’t matter what it was though, Pyro always enjoyed their time together.

But as he sat in the common room, waiting, time continued to tick by. How long it had been, was hard to guess, but certainly far longer than usual. Long enough that he’d gone ahead and eaten dinner alone for the first time in… a long time. It was starting to get dark out now too and Medic still was nowhere to be seen.

Pyro stood up. First he made his way to the kitchen to check if Medic had finally come out to get himself something to eat. It was empty though, no sign of anyone having been here recently. So next he went to Medic’s lab. The doors were closed so he knocked; it’d be rude to barge in and they were probably locked anyway.

No response.

He knocked again, a little louder this time.

Silence answered him on the other side.

He fidgeted, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stared at the doors. Should he break in? He didn’t want to be rude or a nuisance but… he was kind of worried now. So… he tried the handle. Perhaps as another indicator that something was off, it was unlocked, allowing him to open it and poke his head in.

The lights were on and Medic sat at his desk, slumped over it. His head resting atop whatever paperwork he had laid out on it, his hands folded together over his head. A very uncomfortable looking position to sleep in. Not his first time falling asleep in such a position but normally he only did so when allowed to stay up working for far too long; never before had he fallen asleep at his desk so early in the day. Something was certainly wrong.

Pyro stepped in, pulling the door closed softly behind him. “Medic?” he tried, making sure to speak loud enough to be understood through the mask.

But, no surprise since the knocking hadn’t woken Medic, neither had that. So Pyro walked over and put a hand on his shoulder to give it a slight shake. After a short pause of nothing happening he had to do it again, a little harder this time.

With a snort, Medic finally woke. He jerked up, glancing blearily around before scrambling on his desk for where his glasses had fallen off his face. Upon finding them, he shoved them back onto his nose before looking up at Pyro. “Pyro? What… why are you here? What time is it?” He reached hand up to rub his neck, wincing as if it hurt.

“Late. You okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine just… tired. It’s been a long few days.”

It certainly had been. The last week or so they’d lost or stalemated in almost every battle. Hard for everyone but always especially hard for Medic since such battles made trying to keep everyone healed up that much harder. Pyro had been doing his best to help make up for that, insisting on restful activities and getting Medic to go to bed a little early, but seems he hadn’t been doing enough. Well, he’d just have to do better.

“You haven’t eaten yet. Let me get you some food. Wait here.”

“There is no need for that. I can…” Whatever Medic was going to say next, Pyro didn’t hear as he was already out the door.

In the kitchen, he went straight to the fridge. There wasn’t much in it other than a few raw ingredients; they were due for another supply run to town soon lest they be left with nothing but canned food and ration packs. But he was in luck, there was still plenty of that casserole he’d spotted in there earlier. What kind, he couldn’t tell as it was most likely foreign, but it was something that should heat up in the oven fairly quickly. He’d make up for the theft later, first came feeding Medic with something hot and hopefully tasty.

Upon returning to the lab with a plate of steaming casserole, Medic still sat at his desk, shoulders slumped. He’d tidied up the paperwork into a neat stack off to the side. Pyro walked over and placed the plate and fork down in front of him.

He looked down at it for a second or two before picking up the fork. “Danke.”

Pyro have gave him a thumbs up in acknowledgment before pulling a chair over to sit across from him. They sat in companionable silence for a little while as Medic ate, first slowly then a bit faster as his appetite seemed to catch up to him. He seemed to be doing better but well…

“You should take a break,” Pyro said as Medic was putting down the fork. It had been a long hard week on top of the fact that it had been months since Medic had last taken even so much as a full day off, let alone had a proper break.

For a moment Medic seemed truly taken aback by that suggestion. “I… nein, no, no. I couldn’t. I have far too much work to do and the team would fall apart without me. I’m fine, I assure you. This won’t happen again.”

Pyro wasn’t convinced but… he wasn’t going to push right now. He’d be keeping an eye on Medic though.

~

The stalemates and losses continued, the latter becoming more common and worse. Everyone was suffering for it but Medic especially, his lower performance contributing to it in fact. Despite that he still refused to listen to Pyro’s idea about taking a break. He insisted he was fine and even kept to his promise about not falling asleep randomly at his desk anymore. But it was still very clear that he was less than okay. Finally Pyro had had enough.

First he had a talk with Miss Pauling. “Yeah, I see you point,” she said when she was done reading his formally written request. “And, you’d probably do it even if I didn’t allow it, huh? So, fine, two weeks vacation approved for you and Medic. Have fun or whatever.”

Pyro nodded and gave her a thumbs up in thanks before skipping off.

Next was Heavy. “Take care of Medic’s birds for two weeks? Hmm… yes, I can do this.”

“Thanks!”

Now, with those two things taken care of, came the hardest part; getting Medic to agree to the vacation. Because he wouldn’t want to go on one or if he did he’d want to work on his personal stuff the whole time. Pyro had a plan though, hopefully it would work.

***

A hand on Medic’s shoulder pulled him from slumber. He groaned and tried to roll away but it was insistent. Finally, he had almost no choice but to reach over to his night stand for his glasses so he could look up at whoever was disturbing him.

Pyro loomed over him, wearing his full suit and mask. He stepped back and gestured for Medic to get out of bed and follow him.

“Was ist es?” he said with another groan. Surely, considering how dark it still was, it was far to late at night for anything that wasn’t important.

Instead of responding, Pyro gestured again. It wasn’t particularly urgent though, implying this wasn’t likely a life or death thing.

If it were anyone else, Medic would’ve rolled over to go back to sleep and vowed to use them for whatever his next unpleasant experiment ended up being. Because it was Pyro though, he forced himself to sit up and slump out of bed to his feet. “Schnell, bitte.” So he could go back to sleep.

Pyro grabbed what looked to be a duffel bag from off the floor. It was fairly heavy based off the way he hoisted it up to hang around his shoulder before taking Medic’s hand and pulling him out of the room. Medic was tempted to ask what was in the bag and where they were going and why whatever this was couldn’t wait until daylight but… he was far too tired to try to come up with the words, especially in English. So he just let himself be dragged along for now instead.

Without a single word of explanation, Pyro pulled him all the way through the base and then outside through the garage exit. A short distance away was Pyro’s motorbike. The newer one that was bigger and had only two wheels but was painted almost exactly the same as the first. Pyro, of course, went straight to it.

He finally let go of Medic’s hand so he could climb aboard it, putting the duffel bag, its handle still looped over shoulder, in front of him. Looking back at Medic, he patted the seat behind him.

Medic had been on the bike before, in fact, Pyro had gotten the bigger one supposedly in large part because he wanted to be able to take people on rides. Thanks to how busy Medic was a lot of the time, he hadn’t been on it more than a couple times and not any time in the past couple weeks, but surely if Pyro wanted to take him out on a ride so bad, he could’ve just asked. And thus done so at a time of day that wasn’t the middle of the night. But Medic was already here, awake but too tired to argue properly, and apparently it was important to Pyro so… he got on the bike. Putting his slippered feet on the passenger footrests on the side, he wrapped his arms around Pyro, leaning forward into him.

After a quick little victory clap, Pyro started the bike, kicked back the kickstand, and they took off. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long, especially since they had battle tomorrow.

~

Between his exhaustion, Pyro’s comforting presence in front of him, and the steady rumble and vibration of the bike beneath them, Medic soon had trouble keeping his eyes open. He drifted in and out of sleep, never quite fully waking up. Something was off but… whatever it was, Pyro would surely take care of whatever it was.

Eventually, they slowed and came to a stop. The sudden stillness and quiet of the engine finally woke him properly.

It was daylight, broad midday daylight. They were at a gas station, one Medic had never been to before, meaning it wasn’t the one in Tuefort. “Where are we?” he asked as he got off the bike to stretch. He was stiff and achy from sitting on it so long.

Pyro got off too to stand next to him. “Vacation!”

Oh… oh! That explained so much. Seems Pyro was quite a bit more crafty than he liked to let on. Medic never would’ve agreed to just go off like that if he’d known that that was what Pyro was planning. He’d been too tired to press the issue last night though. “We can’t just go on vacation! I got so some much work to do and we’ll get in trouble for going AWOL.”

“I got permission from Miss Pauling.”

“Well… well, what about my birds? I can’t just leave them uncared for.”

“Heavy promised to take care of them.”

“Well, what about….” Medic trailed off, searching for another reason to be upset about this because surely he should be. But with the threat of their bosses getting angry with them – and possibly firing them or attempting to do worse – taken care of and, other then Pyro and Medic himself, Heavy was the most trustworthy person to take care of the birds, meaning they’d be fine too, all he could feel was… relief. Profound relief that he didn’t have to work; didn’t have go into battle knowing he’d struggle the whole time while everyone clamored at him for healing and whether or not he had ubercharge yet and if he did, wanting him to use it on them. He didn’t have to do any paperwork or deal with anyone’s ailments or minor injuries sustained doing stupid stuff around base.

He was still scrambling for an argument when the gas station attendant approached them with a strained sounding, “Hello, how can I help you?” She was looking firmly at Medic, clearly wanting to talk to him and very much not Pyro. Not unusual, the suit and mask tended to put people off – something Medic was guilty of at first too, which he was now ashamed of – but still aggravating. Little did she know that she should be more afraid of Medic than Pyro. He was far less likely to decide he needed her organs for an experiment.

Seemingly, unbothered, Pyro got her attention with a wave of his hand. He then stepped towards the pump and tapped the kind of fuel he wanted before pointing at his bike.

“You want a full tank?”

He nodded with his usual thumbs up.

She still didn’t look too sure but when Pyro pulled out a wad of cash to pay, she perked up, finally putting on a friendly face – no doubt hoping for a good tip which she didn’t deserve. Once that was done being that taken care of though, Pyro turned his attention back onto Medic.

Before speaking, Medic stepped a bit further back, gesturing for Pyro to come with him. The gas station attendant probably didn’t have much interest in eavesdropping on their conversation but it didn’t hurt to make sure that that didn’t happen. “How long is this vacation?”

“Two weeks.”

That was certainly longer than he ever would’ve guessed. “How’d you get Miss Pauling to agree to that?”

“You deserve it and she knows that.”

“Where are we going?”

Pyro shrugged. “Wherever you want. We can stay at a hotel or go camping or just drive around and sleep and eat wherever. I’ll buy plane tickets if you want to fly somewhere. I brought us clothes and food and a sleeping bag.” He gestured at the duffel bag still hanging around his shoulder. “Only ration packs though, there wasn’t enough room for anything else.”

Well, if it was anywhere Medic wanted to go, he could insist they go back to base. Even outside of the job, he had so much work to do; personal experiments to be run or to gather materials and whatnot for. Two weeks would give him enough time to get some good headway on a lot of it. But… he was tired, so very, very tired. Being forced to truly consider the possibility of a vacation made it impossible for him to continue to deny that Pyro had been right for a long while now; he needed a break. A proper one that wasn’t just him taking the evening off.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He wanted so desperately to caress Pyro’s face and kiss him tenderly as he deserved. Alas, the suit and mask prevented such contact. Later though, when they were alone, he’d make sure to show Pyro how much he loved him. “How about, we find somewhere to eat and then we’ll decide where we want to go and what we want do with our two weeks of freedom, huh?” Because Pyro deserved to have a say in that as well.

Pyro nodded enthusiastically before stepping forward to hug Medic. “I’m glad you’re not mad.”

“I could never be mad at you.” Not for long anyway. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to Medic and Medic loved him more than anything else in the world.

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3211

after sleeping in and confirming plans, i fell back asleep this morning and woke up finally with my "you should be leaving now" alarm. i got up real fast, showered, died of heat exhaustion, dressed, and left in like twenty minutes. not quite a record but damn close.

i went with a friend and her mom to get lunch at a vietnamese place and cupcakes from my favorite bakery. for lunch i got beef pho and dumplings and it was all really good. i ended up with leftovers, which was surprising, but the dumplings were filling. so i put it in a container, grabbed a spoon and chopsticks, asked for a bag, and packed it all away, and we left.

at the bakery i picked up some cupcakes and a flower cookie, the kind i usually get when i go there, the ones that are my favorite. i picked a blue one today. i'm very excited to eat it.

(i'll die on the hill that klemm's bakery is the best bakery in new hampshire. if someone can prove me wrong i'll still die on that hill.)

after that adventure, i went back to joel's and i took a nap. it had gradually been raining harder and harder over those few hours, so by the time i got back it was pretty loud on my little car. but it was dull out and gray and comforting, and it was definitely sleep-inducing. i was happy to go back to bed for a while.

i woke up a little after 6, having slept about two hours. i picked up my stuff and headed home, leaving my laptop there because i didn't really need to bring it home. i also put the cupcakes in the fridge.

i got home around 7, and i sat and talked with my momma for a bit. it'd been a few days since i was last home, so i wanted to check in on her to see how she was feeling, plus that's the one place left to sit in the house, and i just missed my momma.

i opened my mail, which included a lego set, a thank you card from gramma, and the order i placed from the northeastern bookstore. i was actually able to read gramma's handwriting, which was nice, because that doesn't usually happen. the lego set is one of the four things i ordered from the lego website on star wars day, because they were having a star wars promo if you spent like $75. so i did. the rest are back ordered so i'm waiting on those still.

i grabbed my switch from my room to download a game which crow and cricket sent me money for as a graduation gift. which was super nice! because i got to play with them too! we spent two hours playing mario party together and it was so fun! i'm so happy they're my friends.

once we were done it was past 10pm, and i still hadn't had dinner. i went downstairs, and it turned out mom hadn't had dinner either, not really. that's like the one thing i don't really enjoy about being home, is having the responsibility of coordinating meals between four or five people when one of them works until 9pm, one doesn't really care, one doesn't contribute, another is judgmental and has dietary restrictions, and the last one is me.

it's frustrating, that's all.

anyway, i ate my soup leftovers. i took out onion as i went, reestablishing my distaste for white onions and reinvigorating my detestation for green onions. i also took out the meatball. it had a bad texture.

but it was still good! it's better fresh, but it was still good.

i grabbed some ice cream and munched on it while watching the baseball game before momma went to bed.

i washed out one of my new cups and filled it for the evening with ice water, and i hung out with chels for a little bit before deciding to head to bed. i packed up my cookie so it's still fresh when i have it and so it's protected from being crunched.

i care about little things. i care a lot.

a few other things.

when i was sleeping in this morning, joel came back into the room twice, once when i was sitting up having taken my meds, probably around 9:40, and once around 10:30 or something, when i had covered myself in blankets as well as blooper and the puppy. he said "did you fall back asleep??" and i slowly popped my head up from behind the stack of squish and said "no." he said "did you take your meds??" "i did take my meds, and i'm sleepy." "how are you still sleepy??? i'm WIRED." "my meds quiet everything else so i can sleep." he shook his head before saying "you're silly" and patting me on the head. he grabbed whatever it was he needed and left again.

i didn't open my computer today, but i tried to fix my gmail nonsense that i've got goin on. i set up forwarding a long time ago but it doesn't forward everything, so i need to open it properly so i can see the shit that doesn't go to my other email account. rip.

speaking of emails, i saw, in my inbox, a message as i was cleaning out the new garbage emails. it was from one of the places i applied to this week. they want to schedule a time to talk about the position. i double checked the posting to see if it was the one i thought it was for, and it is - it's the daytime, full-time shift that i was realistically hoping for. so i'm hoping to talk to them on monday or something. that'd be nice.

that's where i am about now. excited, didn't think i'd get this far, tired. hungry. tummy grumbling. time for sleeping.