#...AND I STILL HAVE THE STUPID MIGRAINE it's just a little less Total

[pilferingapples]

when you're sick for more than a day the whole universe should Chill for a while and you get to use as much time as you need to catch up on chores and correspondence and basic sleep without anything else Happening

[terrahlee-cup]

I’m just slowly adding more chapters to each of these because otherwise the number of notifications would be a lot lol @raphaelesbian

Foive (The sleep deprivation is invading the main posts more and more teehee)

Aw Donnie no 🥹 I get migraines and owwww. Just wanna… toss pain meds at him. Bonk.

Ah of course Raph can’t relax our boy is so wound up at this point. I do wonder how long Karai messing with the Foot will work. Any time she’s physically present for one of these things she risks being recaptured.

“maybe she just deserved some time without someone trying to hunt her down, friend or foe.” That is very sweet actually. Like, yes she’s still in danger, but she’s getting a bit to do her own thing. 

“If he was pissy when Raph escaped he was livid now that Karai was gone, too.” Yeah that tracks lol. Oh and he’s doing shit himself now that’s… niiiiiiice? Raph is not going to be okay if they actually have to fight him is he.

These kids need somewhere safe to chill where they can get away from each other for a bit. All of them are on edge and stuck in the same space that is never going to go well. “The Lair had become a pressure cooker, and Raph was about ready to burst.” This is not going to be pretty is it.

Lmao how the turn tables— please be careful bud. Aw they’re bonding! They’re so sleep deprived which same, but they’re bonding! Making dark jokes back and forth is a glorious bonding activity.

“They have the self-preservation skills of a group of lemmings.” The jumping off cliffs thing is a myth but- wait Raph’s a fucking lemming. He is THE SAME. FU-

“What if you weren’t alone?” Oh these little shits. You ALL have the self-preservation skills of lemmings. Like these two totally deserve to blow off some steam but I am NOT excited to see them possibly get caught again… anyway BIG SISTER BONDING THROUGH CRIME FUCK YEAH.

“And here I was already planning out the colors for our friendship bracelets.” *stares at a certain piece of fanart and loudly sips drink*

Seex (Hey remember that discord typo-)

Raph being too excited about causing problems to fight with his brothers I can’t lol- these two should never be allowed to go on missions alone.

Bradford hurt Mikey and Raph shall never forget. Good. Karai really said “how in the fuck are you doing that.”

“launder, like laundry?” I mean… close enough? I guess they’re technically washing it? Of the crime? Just not… normally. Um. Yeah close enough.

CRIMES WITH BIG SISTER FUCK YEAH part 2. These two are menaces I am so happy for them. Cause chaos children, go forth. Also MORE BONDING! They’re having so much fun they deserve this.

Sparring instead of committing more crime— yeah a break’s probably a good idea at this point. These two have been through so much recently so seeing them sort of give each other some room to breathe is so nice. They both need it so badly.

Sevan~

Karai gets to be a bad influence the chapter. The teenagers have obtained alcohol everyone, you have been warned. Also Karai, hun, he’d probably have had less intense of a reaction if you’d said what the mystery liquid was before drinking it <3

Raph drank way too much immediately because of course he did lmao. Karai’s “oh dear” reaction— see what you’ve done to him ma’am? His brain is soup. Soup! Stands up and immediately nope HELP-

I really like how these two’s relationship has built up to this point. They’re both a lot more blunt than Raph’s brothers, and it seems to be working in their favor for once. They’ve done a bit of ‘casual’ hanging out, but they also kinda just skipped to having important conversations that they probably both need. Also, these two feel older than the other turtles after everything. Karai just *is*, but the way Raph acts with her is different. I don’t entirely know how to put words to it? They’re being rebellious and doing stupid shit, sure, but it also seems like they’re actually working through things a bit. It’s not just screwing around for the sake of it. I dunno, they have ‘older siblings that are starting to need more of their own space’ vibes.

[mythiccheroacademia]

My bad, I’m just now seeing the rules😭 I’ll choose shiguraki, dabi, and Hawks for the time traveling kids reaction

A/N: You’re all good baby! I kept looking at this trying to come up with a fitting situation for them and then I dreamt about being in all three situations last night??? lmaooo it was both terrifying and lucky hehe~ Hopefully, it��s as good as I’m imagining it

Side Note: I’m writing this with a baby (thankfully, but unfortunately, not mine!) on my chest. Get on my level. Jk, but everyone say hi <3

Warnings: Cursing 

Shigaraki Tomura:

you and shigaraki came back from your daily walks 

aka, people watching

and you two planned to play on the PS4 later

whiles you’re setting up the TV in the living room, he goes to his room to get the console and remotes

he opens the door, sees a baby on his bed, then immediately shuts the door

goes to you and kurogiri

him: “any of you know why there’s a baby on my bed?”

kurogiri: a baby? 😐

you: a BABY!!!?? 😍💞💞

you rush in there and to your amazement, there is a baby no more than six or seven months, gurgling on the bed

kurogiri is giving tomura the most judgemental look and shigaraki kinda feels embarrassed even though he swears he didn’t do anything

“please don't tell me it’s yours”

“i can assure you, y/n and i use prot--”

“oh my gosh, shiggy, she looks just like you with my hair and nose!”

kurogiri is over it 

tomura is malfunctioning

you’re gushing over the baby girl, totally ignoring the fact that a literal child, who just so happened to look like a perfect mix between you and tomura, just appeared like a sick magic trick

was it a quirk?

was it time travel??

did tomura knock you up and everybody just somehow forgot???

so many questions, so little answers

in order to keep from getting a migraine, everybody followed your train of thought and just went along with it for now

shigaraki was less than pleased that his plans with you had been scrapped

he spent the day going shopping (stealing) for diapers, getting formula, buying clothes, and buying toys

feeding the baby was annoying

changing her was a nightmare

shigaraki threatened to disintegrate the child if she puked on him one more time

but everyone just adores her

she’s such a cutie

her toothless smile just warms up everybody’s hearts

even kurogiri is smitten

the day ends with you, the baby, and shigaraki in his room, getting ready for bed

he’s grumbling bc “can’t we just leave her on the couch or something”

you ignore him and he’s forced to get in bed bc no matter what, he’d never give up the chance to cuddle with you...even if it is with some stupid baby

after she falls asleep, you sigh and lean on his shoulder

“you really think she’s ours?” you ask

he wants to say i hope not, but the way you look at him with all the hope in the world makes his heart tingle 

instead of answering, he softly kisses your lips and tucks the both of you in

when you both wake up, the baby is gone--probably back to her timeline

you're a little sad and shigaraki only says what he says NOT BC HE THINKS IT’S TRUE OR SOMETHING but bc your misery makes him itch

“don’t worry. i’m sure we’ll see the brat again someday”

Dabi:

when you came back to your apartment, holding a load of groceries, you were quite surprised to see the situation at hand 

in the middle of your living room was dabi, at his big ass age, wrestling with a kid that couldn't be older than 12 

least to say, you were pissed 

“come on, fess up you little runt. did my old man have another kid”

“for the last time, NO! i’m yours!!”

“stop lying! my pull out game is too strong for that”

“EW! get off of me you staple-faced, burnt chicken nugget lookin’ fu--”

that’s when you intervened

“chicken nugget lookin’ what?” you questioned, looking at the boy with the look™️  

 the boy’s expression went from angry to scared in 0.2 seconds

dabi’s kind of impressed

“father. i-i was gonna say father”

“oh, that’s what i thought bc if you were gonna say what i thought your were gonna say, then i’d have to whoop your ass. but you weren’t, correct?”

“no ma’am”

“so we’re good?”

“yes ma’am”

“perfect. now what’s this about him being your father?”

dabi is taking out of his smugness and flinches under the heat of your glare

you ask him one time who he slept with and when he tells you you're crazy, you lunge at him

your kid lets you get a couple of good hits in before he decides to drop the news that he’s you two’s son of three from the future

you pause, his hand on your face and your fist in his hair

“deadass?” dabi says 

the boy nods his head and you two take the time to look at him

his features are undeniably yours and dabi’s; he was one of those kids that if you sat them next to one or the other, they could look like both parents

you two take it better than he thought you would 

“i always knew you wanted kids with me. simp”

dabi can’t even deny it. he just rolls his eyes and acts all tough 

then he asks, “you sure you’re not gonna get erased from the time continuum by telling us?”

the boy shrugs “i mean...i hope not”

it’s beyond y’all at this point

so you spend the day with the kid, who was named after Dabi (Touya Jr.), and it’s so obvious he’s a momma’s boy 

he helps you cook, set the table, and wash the dishes 

smiles at you like you’re the entire world

dabi is kind of jealous from all the attention you’re giving him 

fumes at the middle finger junior sneakily flips at him 

does it back 

claims to hate the kid but wipes the crumbs off his lip without hesitation

junior got the itis and is down for a nap

calls you two mom and dad before falling asleep 

you get all 🥺 and even dabi is a little nostalgic when junior disappears 

it’s quiet for a moment and then he says, 

“wanna do a practice round in baby-making. yknow? for the future”

you roll your eyes but you aint say no! 

Takami Keigo (Hawks):

hawks didn't expect to see a tiny kid on the edge of a building on his day off

there wasn't a lot that scared him, but he couldn't deny the fear hammering against his ribcage as he saw the child look around before jumping

thank goodness his speed wasn’t just talk

he caught the girl who didn't look a day past six 

he’s in the middle of giving her a huge lecture about safety and mental health, she just giggles and gives him the biggest kiss on the cheek 

“haha! i knew you’d catch me if i fall, papa~”

he’s too angry to even register what she called him

“that was totally dangerous, kid! what if i hadn't seen you? then what?”

“then i would fly” she said like it was the most obvious thing

he’s dumbstruck as two beautiful white wings sprout out of thin air and allow her to float next to the hero with ease 

hawks blinks bc yeah anyone could have wings, but he could tell that feather pattern from anywhere

it was his 

it was like his own fingerprint was staring at him 

did he accidentally knock someone up bc that would be a big uh-oh

y/n wouldn't like that at all

he asks the child who he is to her and she repeats, “papa~”

he then asks who the mother was and she goes, “mommy~”

she’s not the brightest crayon in the box, that’s for sure 

“what’s mommy’s name, kid,” he asks with the patience of a saint

“Takami Y/N~”

“you’re coming with me”

flys across the city with conviction

you’re lying on your bed, face mask on and reading a book in peace before your oh so wonderful boyfriend comes crashing through your open window

you don’t even flinch. so used to his surprise visits, you close the book and sigh

“to what do i owe the great pleasure of having you break into my house? again”

hawks holds the cute girl up, squishing her cheek as she laughs from the adventure they just went on

“mommy!”

“surprise!”

this time, you drop the book

eventually, with some cupcakes and chicken, the little girl tells you two about how she went to play with some kid and got zapped by a quirk and ended up here 

you also find out she’s the youngest of four

you look a little sick but keigo gives you a shit-eating grin

he’s so excited about having a family with you

you can’t deny the tingle in your heart

parades the girl around the house and they’re both laughing the same laugh, eyes bright with joy

it makes your heart hurt and now you have to join into the shenanigans 

you spend the day playing games, doing face masks, and reading books to fall asleep to

when you wake up, she’s gone but keigo’s arms are still firmly wrapped around your waist

“so now that you know i’m gonna trap you with four kids, when are you gonna pop the question?”  you joke 

but hawks isn’t laughing. instead, he’s smiling at you in a way that makes your eyes widen

he digs in his coat and pulls out the ring

“i was gonna try and make it a little more romantic. but why wait? so, what do ya say to taking my last name?”

[revirushifaa]

Ummm let's seee: Girl MC who just remembered that she had a check-up in the human world and has hidden it from the brothers and they have to take them there because they don't want her to get sick in the Devildom? Hope this is okay!

Oh sure! A HC request this time because I would have to write lots, but here is this! I hate doctors too anon, so I can relate to MC here ;w;

PS: I'm sorry for not including Belphie, I just have no idea how to write him and I don't want to ruin his character. So just six bros in this. I hope it is okay, I'm well with the six ones that I have been learning about so much.

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

Scared of the Doctor F!MC:

Lucifer and MC:

*When MC wasn't acting her normal self one day, he noticed how she was all tense and flinching at any form of contact, he wondered what was up with her, but at first he didn't ask her just let it continue, until he thought it was enough and time to ask her.

*Finally, when it had gotten enough of it, Lucifer went to confront her.

"MC, what is the matter with you? Why are you acting too anxious? Is there something wrong?"

"W-what? Something wrong with me? N-no, of course not, I'm totally fine!"

*MC was just a terrible liar, she wasn't making eye contact with Lucifer when she was trying to deny that there wasn't anything wrong with her.

*At Lucifer's mighty icey glare, MC spit out the beans and explained to him that she had to go to a doctor appointment in her world, because she was just a very sickly human but it scared her because she hated doctors; specially if there where.... NEEDLES.

*Lucifer told her without hesitation that there was nothing to be afraid of, that he was going to go with her where she had to go. If she needed him to hold her hand like an infant, then he would.

*MC felt at least a little better when he was so determined to not leave her alone.

*They went to there, MC is all jittery and even uptight than how she was in the Devildom. Lucifer held her hand and tightly, didn't let go of it and waited in the waiting room with her until she was called for her turn.

*She's patient number 3 and said that she wasn't the patient that got called, and would've immediately bolted out of there if Lucifer hadn't gripped her hand tightly and forbidden her from going a centimeter further.

*He would gain a huge migraine as he had to carry MC over the shoulder as she started screaming in fear, once he entered the doctor's consultory, he sighed looking drained.

"Excuse her... she just doesn't like the doctor at all."

*As expected, MC needs to take a shot and she had a very scene in there, where she screamed and kicked Lucifer right where the sun doesn't shine in her panic. He would need something to recover from that... but whatever. He held her cheeks and made her look at his eyes and just for her made the attractive of faces, just so he could distract her.

*The shot was given and MC didn't even feel a thing, not even the sting of a bee. Lucifer sighed, still sore from down below but whatever, something like that wouldn't weaken him and soon he treated MC to ice cream, just like a little child.

Mammon and MC:

*"Oi, the heck is wrong with ya?" Was the first thing Mammon asked MC when she was just tense and jittery. Something was off, MC was not like this.

"...Doctor."

"Huh?"

"I need to go to the hell of a doctor....!"

*Oh. She was deadly afraid of the doctor. Well, he can help her and make her visit to the doctor a less terrifying one.

"You don't need to be worried about a thing! The Mammon got ya!"

*They arrived at the doctor's. Because MC had told him about her life and everything, Mammon could answer to all the questions for MC because she was just a stammering mess and she couldn't get a word out of her mouth. They were given the number five and they went to sit down.

*They're called to enter and immediately MC refuses hanging from the doorknob. Mammon sighed and tried to detach her from the doorknob.

"C'mon, MC! Let's enter, the quick we go inside the quicker we'll get out of here, I promise I'll treat ya to something that you like!!"

*The doorknob is yanked off the door. Mammon said that he would use Lucifer's credit card for it, no worries. But they could enter now and the Avatar of Greed sits down next to MC and lets the doctor do the check up.

*MC needs a shot and she is ready to run away but Mammon catches her and locks her in a steely grip, girl is screaming her lungs out and Mammon tries to keep her in place. His face results getting harshly slapped, but he doesn't lose it and now distracts MC by telling her a fun story about Lucifer's childhood. It works as the human turns to him and is intrigued.

*Shot is given and MC can be done with this nightmare. Mammon sighs in relief and smiles, though there is a huge red hand print over his cheek, but he pays it no mind.

*He takes MC to get some nice treat as he promised her for at least getting her shot and staying in place during the whole check up. And he used Lucifer's credit card to pay for everything that MC destroyed in her big panic.

Leviathan and MC:

*MC came to Levi herself and knocked on his door. It was panicky knocks, so Levi went out his room.

"MC? What's the matter? You seem so uptight."

"Levi... I don't feel so good about today..."

"What about today? What's happening today?"

*So she had to go to the doctor and she was very, very frightened about it. Levi told her that she had nothing to be afraid of, he was coming with her and be there through the whole ordeal.

*MC could at least say all her information to the secretary, but she was full on grabbing Levi's hand without even thinking of letting it go. She was given the seventh turn and then she went to sit in the waiting room with Levi next to her, waiting for their turn to come.

*Since MC was all jittery and anxious, Levi decided to distract her with any of her favorite anime, so he chose one and the two of them got full on watching it together, it really was distracting as MC was totally distracted by it, for a moment she had forgotten about the check up.

*Eventually their turn came, and MC jumped, excusing herself that she wanted to go the bathroom, but it was all to stall entering the doctor consultory. Levi knew about it though, and took her hand in his again.

"I'll go to the anime store with you to get the last chapter of the manga that you're currently reading, MC-chan. For now be a valiant human and go to your quest of getting over with this check up! Like Henry would've done!"

*During the whole check up, MC manages to remain still and let the doctor examine her. Then it was revealed that she needed a shot and that didn't go well at all with her, so she turned to Levi and immediately hugged him, shaking.

*Levi wrapped his arms aroung her, and whispered soothing things in her ear, distracting her from the thought of the shot. He made it a good time for her, because she became distracted by everything that he had told her and she didn't feel nothing, not even the tiniest of pinches.

"You did so good, MC. I'm so proud of you. Now let's go get that manga as reward!"

*They both went to the anime store as promised. MC didn't really make a huge of a scene in there, so Levi went out of this ordeal without any bruise or slap, just as perfect as he was.

Satan and MC:

*When Satan was going to the kitchen to get a drink, he noticed a very anxious MC slumped up by the corner and having just a small glass of water, but even her hands were shaking so much, he rose a brow and approached her.

"What's up MC? Why are you so anxious?"

"Nothing really.... it's a stupid thing."

"No thing is as stupid as Mammon's own stupidity. C'mon, tell me."

*MC explained to him that she was so frightened of the doctor and that he really didn't have to worry about something so lame about that. But Satan shook his head and told her that it wasn't stupid, he will go with her and make the visit to the doctor a calid one.

*So the two went to the hospital located in the human world. MC wouldn't stop gripping Satan's arm as they walked to there. It was Satan who had to give her info to the secretary, because the human girl was being too stuttery to speak clearly. after that they were given the second turn, which was what put MC even anxious than before.

"Calm down, kitten. You don't have to feel scared, because I am here. Honest. After this, let's go get a treat." He used a soft tone when he said that to her, holding onto her hand as they went to sit and wait for twenty minutes until their turn came along.

*To calm her down and give her more tranquility, he shows her pictures of cute cats, and it was all enough to make her feel less anxious to see a person in a white coat with that thing around the neck that he still had no idea what was the name.

*Twenty minutes later came their turn and Satan led MC over to the office, he was grabbing her hand and making it clear that he had no intentions of just leaving her alone with that person, he didn't trust the doctor so he was a little protective of MC, seeing how anxious she was with all this idea.

*MC sat still there. The doctor came and began doing the check up and the normal stuff that doctors made. It was a quick check up and all what the human girl needed was just a tiny little shot. She looked more tensed than before and hid her face unto Satan's shoulder, not resisting but refusing to watched the needle. Satan let her do that and caressed her hair. By the time she opened her eyes, the shot was given to her and she didn’t feel a thing, she was finally free from this nightmare, or at least she believed it was a big nightmare to go to a place where she felt insecure.

“Come now, kitten. We’re going out for a nice treat, you’ve earned it.” He said softly to her and off they were to get that nice treat.

Asmodeus and MC:

*Oh dear, when Asmo heard a loud screech coming from MC as she ran over and ended up crashing with him. His arms immediately captured her and she was hysterical.

“Woah, woah. What’s the matter, MC dear? Who put you in this state? One of my brothers? Satan? Lucifer?”

“They didn’t hurt me... I’m escaping from them!”

“Why?”

*He understood then, that the girl was scared of a check up at the doctor’s. After telling the others that the one who would be going with MC was him, he reassured her that he wouldn’t leave her alone. He only wanted what was best for her health, MC was a very sickly human so her check ups were not ignored, it was an important rule.

*With an arm around her shoulders, Asmo led her inside the hospital. The girl was very, very uptight and she really didn’t want to have to go through this, but she had to. They couldn’t risk losing her to illness. He told the secretary all of her info, and then let her to the chairs to wait for their turn which was just after three patient.

*Let her lean her head against his shoulder, his caresses didn’t stop at all he wasn’t going to let her go or leave alone when she needed the company that she could get, because she was just to uptight.

*They were called and the fifth born was ready to get her in as he had both his arms around her and walked righ inside the consultory. All the while MC is near him and refuses to let him go. Let the doctor do her check up without any protest.

*When she needed a shot, Asmodeus covered her eyes and whispered stuff in her ear, she wasn’t looking the tiny shot and when it was given to her she didn’t even feel it, she didn’t believe herself that she actually managed to go to the doctor without causing much of an scene in there.

“There. All done, darling. We can go to wherever you want to go you won’t need to go back there for quite a long time!”

*And off they were to wherever MC wanted to go, which was the best part of a doctor’s appointment.

Beelzebub and MC:

*MC was hiding in the kitchen behind the fridge. Beel was just going to his favorite place to get a meal, and what he saw was MC behing the fridge.

“MC? What are you doing there?”

“...?”

*She didn’t even know someone else was there when she was hiding. She sighed. She could lie to him or sabotage him into keeping the secret of the doctor just between them.

“Oh nothing, Beel. I was just... hiding.”

“Why are you hiding?”

“If I allow you to eat all my daily meals, will you keep a secret, Beel?”

“Mm... you’re being strange. You would always eat all first so I don’t eat yours. What’s all this about?”

*And soon MC told him what happened. She had a doctor’s appointment and she was just frightned. While the idea of eating more because of MC was wonderful, Beel couldn’t allow that. He didn’t want MC to fall ill because she skipped a check up.

“MC, you know I can’t do that. Food wouldn’t be the same as letting you fall ill... you will come with me to the doctor...”

*Beel had her in his arms as he walked to the clinic. She had nearly two panic episodes there, so the Avatar of Gluttony had to go with her all the way round to there. He let MC say her info as he really didn’t know much of her, MC hadn’t really told him much about her life.

*They waited. Beel’s stomach is growling once again. MC kept trying to sabotage him into just going out of the place. But Beel wouldn’t comply, he restrained himself and the urge of eating. A world without MC wasn’t the same at all.

*Soon they were called to go inside the office and MC was slowing down, as the demon had to pick her up again and walked inside with her. He sat with her on the stretcher, keeping next to her. The check up went well, until the shot was brought up.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” 

MC had a fierce scene right there, and Beel had to hold her down so she wouldn’t go, he was kicked further by accident. He didn’t say anything only grunted at the kicks. He then told MC to close her eyes and relax. The girl was grabbed so she wouldn’t get off. She did just that, thinking of her ideal world.

*pinch*

The shot was given and there was nothing else left to be done. Beel pat her head gently.

“That’s all. Reward for going on well with your check up, you pick the place.”

*And off they went to a sushi place the had just opened in the human world. MC didn’t have to go to the doctor for at least a few months ahead.

[olivinesea]

Oooh fun! Okay, do you have any headcannons or thoughts on a dyslexic Hotch? I feel like I never see dyslexia with any characters really, and I like the idea of him with it. And if you do and you want to write something about it, a dyslexic Hotch with the team (and them being the supportive and protective family they are?) Thank you! ❤️

I hope you have fun, wherever/whatever you’re doing!!

I love this so much!! Thank you :) okay I don’t have much personal experience with dyslexia so hopefully I get this decently accurate. The biggest thing that surprised me when I was doing a quick search is that it isn’t actually a matter of reading words or letters backwards? It’s more an inability to connect letters to the appropriate sounds or to break words up into component parts; a general phonological awareness struggle.

So, as with many things, it seems to me to be a matter of slowing down, learning at your own pace. This ties in nicely with so many of my other Hotch thoughts, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Idk what this is, it’s neither headcanon nor proper story but hopefully it’s something like what you were looking for:

When he’s a kid he gets called a slow learner due to his undiagnosed dyslexia. It was much less common to get that kind of diagnosis back then in general and I am sure his dad would have hated the idea of his son needing any kind of extra help. So he’s slow to speak, slow to learn how to read, has difficulty with numbers, absolutely hates being called on to read out loud because it’s actual torture and the other kids have no hesitation about laughing at him. So he becomes withdrawn, labeled a “bad kid,” stops trying because, fuck it, he never gets any kind of support, who cares right? It’s always a fight at home, he starts hiding his work, lying about his grades. This works for awhile bc his parents are distracted by other things. His problems are much bigger than grades by the time they do notice.

However, while he hates school and the way people talk about him and his struggles, like he isn’t even there, he discovers that he doesn’t hate learning. There’s a small library in town where he found he could hide out, no one bothering him for hours if he just sat still for with a book open. He was good at sitting still, at being invisible. But eventually a librarian notices that he’s always got the same book open, some sort of technical manual, that he is rarely turning the pages. She asks him if he likes what he’s reading. He’s just alarmed to be spoken to, afraid that being noticed means he will soon no longer have this sanctuary. He nods and tries to bluff his way through but it’s obvious he hasn’t read it, despite having looked at it for weeks straight. The librarian doesn’t say anything outright, just lets him be for now.

Next time she sees him she brings him a different book, a collection of Grimms fairy tales. He wants to complain that it’s for little kids but is too nervous to refuse it. She asks if she can read him her favorite story from it. It’s dark and twisted and fantastical and he can’t help but be drawn in by it. He’s sad when she’s done reading, wants to hear it again, to capture all the details to replay to himself later. She shows him where it starts, encourages him to read it himself. He doesn’t look at her bc he doesn’t want her to see how upset he is by that, already frustrated by the anticipation that he won’t be able to get through it. But she stays with him, helping him where he gets stuck, asking him questions about the story, making sure it’s making sense to him.

They slowly work their way through the whole collection over the course of months. They spend days on each story, repeating it until he’s confident, she never makes him feel like he’s taking too long or wasting her time. Sometimes has to reread a section multiple times, gets hung up on the language rather than the story but it’s okay, she gives him a notebook to copy down parts that spin too loudly in his mind, saving them and also releasing him from their hold so he can move forward. She lets him keep the book, tells him it was too old to stay in circulation anyway, they had a new copy on order already. She’s the first person who was patient with him, that showed him he could do it, he just needed a little more time, a little more practice than other kids.

In college this is part of why he spends so much time at the library. Part of it is his natural inclination to overwork himself, push until he’s given more than he can in hopes that it might be almost enough. He knows he’s never been enough, why would that change just because he’s in a new place? But the other part is he simply needs more time to get through the coursework, to make it through the excessive amounts of reading he’s assigned. Some other students don’t even bother to read but he would never do that, he makes sure that he not only reads every chapter assigned but he reads it again, takes notes, highlights, annotates, does everything in his power to be prepared. Sure he might work himself to the point of exhaustion, to the point where he makes himself sick (though he’ll try to deny that too) but he’s never caught trying to read something while others wait for his answer, the letters and sounds meaningless, slipping away from him faster the more eyes he feels turn towards him, wondering what could be taking so long. No one ever gets the chance to laugh at him for being slow in college, he never allows them to see that side of him.

As an adult, the leader of the BAU, he’s too well respected for anyone to dare laugh at him but he still hates feeling unprepared. This ends up looking like long nights in the office, reviewing case files to the point of memorization, so that he won’t have to read any of it in front of his team. He can if he has to, he’s developed skills over the years, ways to calm the panic that only makes it harder, can fake it well enough that no one would really notice. Until one day, distracted by a migraine and the fallout of some fight with Haley, he gets stuck. He can’t remember something and he tries to read the sentence that has the information but the stupid word just won’t resolve into sounds that make sense and he just stops talking. He’s glaring at the form like it might catch fire. No one says anything for a moment while he tries to refocus, tries to work around echoes of laughter, decades long past but always ready to jump out at him if he lets his guard down, allows a mistake, a tired moment to derail the image of perfect competence that he’s built around himself. Penelope jumps in, finishing the thought, completing the list of traits shared by the victims. He forces himself to smile at her because he really is grateful, it wasn’t her fault. She scrunches her nose at him, dismissing his silent thanks with a toss of her head. It was nothing, everyone needs a little assist now and then.

No one brings it up and he doubles his efforts not to let anyone see. But he’s so tired on the plane coming back from a case, he’s been staring the same forms for an hour at least. He can feel his ears turning red with frustration. There’s really no reason he has to do this now but the fact that his mind is refusing, almost seems to be teasing him, makes him dig in harder. Emily sits down opposite him, pulling the folder away without asking. He’s about to say something sharp, something he’ll regret saying to her when he really means it for himself, but the expression on her face is so odd, smiling with a frown between her eyebrows. It isn’t pity, she respects him far too much, but there is curiosity and something else, something soft.

“Drink with me.” She slides him a glass and they don’t talk, just look out the window, look at the light playing off the ice in their glasses. He doesn’t see the file again until it appears on his desk, every form neatly filled out, the places needing his signature flagged. All but the last spot, where she’s signed his name eerily perfectly, difficult for even him to see that it’s not his own. Just so he knows she can if she wants to. Equal parts offer and threat.

Penelope and Reid start a book club. Derek joins right away. Emily rolls her eyes when she’s invited, muttering something about spending her free time on more work but they know she will join. Rossi flat out refuses to read the books but offers his house for meetings. Hotch hesitates, wanting to say yes but nervous to commit to an activity like that. He loves books, loves to talk about books. He doesn’t love a time limit on books.

The next time they have to drive to a case, Derek puts on a copy of the audiobook. It’s the first time they make it to a destination without any bickering from the backseat. They don’t get through the whole thing but later he finds a copy of the audiobook on his desk, complete with a disc player and headphones.

A different month, Reid tells him about how his mother always used to read him books and somehow finesses an offer to read to Hotch without him even realizing he’s accepted it. So Spencer comes in to Hotch’s office on lunch breaks occasionally and reads to him whatever the book of the month is. He loves it, remembering the first person who read to him, how shocked he’d been to be treated with patience, with understanding and wondering how he got so lucky to be surrounded by people like her, so ready to support him, wanting him there with them rather than off alone, uselessly fighting with himself to prove his self sufficiency over some uncooperative letters.

Okay, that was so much more than I was planning on but here we are. I hope you liked it and thank you SO much for the idea. If you ever have any others you want to share I am totally here for it. :)

Send me requests!

[beeexx]

A little Tarlos moment fron 2x09

Read on ao3

TK’s headache has moved further down from his forehead, to settle like a blanket of pain wrapped over his eyes instead. It makes sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair all the more worse, the bright light doing nothing other than adding to his growing discomfort and slight nausea. He is tapping his leg, the sound bouncing off the quiet sleepy room, and he thinks that the only reason Marjan hasn’t whacked him to make it stop is because she’s still pitying him over his brief spell in a room similar to the one Judd is in for a concussion that still hasn’t completely gone away. He moves his head between his legs, closes his eyes to try and drown out some of the blinding lights and breathes through his nose. 

He keeps bouncing his leg though.

TK hates hospitals. He has many reasons for disliking them but he’s never had to spend a night on the edge of his seat, worried sick for people he cares about before, not in this capacity at least and it’s making him feel sick.

The worst thoughts rush through to the surface unbidden. What if he never gets to see either one of them again, hear them laugh, joke around with Judd, dinner at their place every other Sunday. What if Judd doesn’t make it? What if Grace dies? What if -

“Hi, you okay?” It’s Carlos of course, back from his coffee run, who gently places a hand on his shoulder. TK tenses for a moment, caught off guard and suddenly ready to bolt right out of his seat. He can’t fully tamper down his reaction and Carlos notices of course. TK thinks he’s probably frowning and it doesn’t take long for Carlos to start to shuffle around until he’s sitting on the ground in front of TK, coffee cup left forgotten on the chair. TK opens his mouth-

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, it’s very obvious that you aren’t.” Carlos chastises making TK look up from the ground he’s been staring holes at. His lip twitches though and he nods.

“Yeah, I won’t.” He promises and it makes Carlos’ worry lines less prominent for a moment. His hair is still a little sleep tussled, a few strands of curls at the back Carlos spends ages on each morning to lie flat are now loose and he looks tired, he is probably as tired as TK feels. 

It’s been just a few days since the kidnapping and TK’s gotten used to having a particularly sort of nasty headache as his daily companion since then, ruining both his days and nights with spells of pain that won’t go away. Well, it’s probably ruined Carlos’ nights too, judging by the growing circles underneath his eyes, and TK’s constant tossing and turning every time they’re in bed. It’s been a few days of bad sleep and lounging around the house with Carlos worrying. It makes TK feel really bad, he hates it when Carlos worries about him. 

Both he and Carlos had however gotten their best night’s sleep in days when the call came through, waking them both and sending TK into a near panic attack when he heard what had happened. He’s strung so ridiculously tight he’s scared he’s going to snap in half and he goes back to bouncing his leg, trying to distract from his discomfort, averting his eyes.

“Hey, no shutting me out.” Carlos gently cups his chin and forces him to meet his eyes, thumb stroking up and down in comforting motions, eyes kind and understanding. TK sighs but he nods.

“Sorry.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, trying to get the lingering thickness away. He looks away for a moment, sees Mateo is asleep with his head resting on Paul’s shoulder while Paul is reading, frowning slightly as his eyes move across the text, flipping pages now and then. Marjan left with Tommy a while back to go do something TK isn’t sure of exactly and he hasn’t seen his dad for a while either. They are all somewhere near of course, lurking, in case something changes.

“I’m scared.” TK keeps his voice down though, just in case. Carlos nods and moves his hands to cover TK’s thighs, pressing gently down on his right leg to stop the movement. It’s an involuntary reaction on TK’s end that he stops, the effect of Carlos’ touch on him, anchoring, calming him down almost immediately. Carlos gently squeezes his knee.

“I know baby, I am too. But the doctors are optimistic and we have to believe them.”

“They are cautiously optimistic and I don’t know what that means in doctor lingo but cautiously sounds like it’s not something to celebrate yet.” He mutters. 

“Maybe not, but it’s not cause for sitting here looking close to fainting either. I don’t think Judd would like it if you ended up in a hospital bed yet again after getting out of one so soon.”

“I would do it if it would make him wake up and bust my balls.” 

Carlos' mouth twitches.

“He’s going to wake up.” Carlos says with such conviction TK believes him.

“But what about Grace?” He whispers, dread filling his stomach. Grace with her kind eyes, easy smiles, never ending patience and generous support TK’s not realised he’s cherished this much until she’s suddenly been hurt, with the outlook not seeming good. He is scared, terrified even that she might not make it. He doesn’t know what it would do to Judd if that was to happen. Carlos grows serious and his eyes travel to the room she is in, sadness passing over his features. With Michelle gone a lot Carlos and Grace had formed an easy friendship to fill up that empty space, and so it wasn’t totally unusual that when TK came home after shifts to find Grace and Carlos out on the patio together, drinking lemonade and chatting away, smiles wide and whatever task they had said they would do, long forgotten. It’s not just TK it pains to see Judd and Grace hurt, it pains Carlos just as much and TK immediately reaches forward, cupping Carlos’ cheek and leaning his forehead on his, offering his comfort up like it’s second nature. They both exhale, breathing through it together. 

“It’s going to be okay, it has to.” Carlos says quietly and gives himself over to the worry for a moment before he pulls himself together, pushing the worry down. TK knows compartmentalising like Carlos can do is something that isn’t always the healtihest of coping mechanisms. Right now though, TK isn’t going to say anything, god knows he has a terrible track record of bad ways to deal with things, and he wishes at this moment that he could do it too, push it down and focus on something else. 

“The doctors say Judd is going to wake up but it will be a few hours until then, so we’re going to have to believe that everything is going to be okay. In the meantime why don’t we go home and shower and change clothes.” He suggests.

“Not to sleep?”

“I’m not aiming that high today, I don’t think either of us will be able to do that. But you don’t look too good right now and it’s worrying me a little, so instead of checking you into this hospital myself I suggest we go back to mine and recharge for a moment and come back with food for everyone. I’m sure they’ll all need it.”

It’s a distraction, probably as much for Carlos as it is for TK, but it’s a distraction born out of kindness and a big heart, the need to do something other than sit here and worry sick. Carlos, TK has learnt during this year, is the kind of person that needs to do something, he’ll feel absolutely useless sitting still. His brain works best when he’s doing things while TK tends to be the other way around, shutting down, unable to do anything other than freezing, standing still in his growing anxiety, until everything boils over and the urge to either get high or do something almost as equally stupid gets too much and he can’t stop it, sending him down bad paths. 

So he takes the opportunity and nods. Carlos gets to his feet and holds his hand out for him. TK takes it and gently and carefully Carlos pulls him to his feet and wraps an arm around him immediately. For a moment TK snuggles close, nosing at Carlos’ neck before he moves his head away, focusing on walking instead.

“How’s your head?”

“Sore.” He admits out loud and Carlos frowns. “It’s feeling more like a migrain though so maybe it’s just stress?”

“Maybe, do you want an ice pack?” TK thinks of saying no but he isn’t looking forward to getting into the car with the raging monster banging against his eyelids so he nods. Carlos gently kisses his forehead, squeezes his hand before he walks away, leaving TK alone in the mostly deserted hallway, with his thoughts again. 

Being a firefighter has made TK somewhat immune to certain high risk situations, gruesome injuries, fright so visceral people become unpredictable, or shock so silent it feels it lasts for days unable to break free of, and death too, to some extent at least. His dad’s cancer, which had been a suffocating presence, expanding each day inside of TK’s ribcage, making it impossible to focus on anything other than it, giving him little room to exist outside of the anxiety and constant worry. Tim more recently, which had been quick and taking the breath out of him, slamming straight into TK like a block of concrete, catching him unaware. 

His own overdose is a reminder that it takes different shapes.

And then this. Relentless, big, sudden. Impossible to escape. Scary.

They all wear their worry on their faces and clinging desperately to hope that feels like it’s dimming with each moment he stands here. 

He twists the string of Carlos’ APD hoodie, the first thing he had gotten his hands on when they were rushing to get here in the middle of the night. It was a few hours ago now and there hasn’t been an update for a while now, other than that they can only wait which anyone knowing him should be aware he’s terrible at. 

Carlos comes back shortly after, holding the promised ice pack, TK looks behind him at a nurse with red cheeks and a bright smile as she watches them. 

“Carlos Reyes did you flirt with a nurse to get me this?” But he accepts it gratefully and presses it to his face, exhaling in relief at the cold seeping onto his clammy skin. 

“I charmed her more likely, by talking about my very cute but bratty boyfriend.”

“Yeah I’ve changed my mind, I don’t care how you got it, I’m just happy that you did.” Carlos snorts and ruffles his hair. 

They drive back and Carlos helps TK up the stairs before he disposes of him gently onto the bed. When he goes to leave, TK tugs him back, holding tightly onto his hand.

“Where are you going?” He sounds small, he feels small right now.

“Just to get some water, I’ll be right back -” But TK shakes his head, moves the pack of ice away and pulls harder on Carlos’ hand until he gets the hint and climbs into the bed. TK pulls him close, arms wounding around his neck and tucks his face into Carlos’ neck. Carlos' hands come to rest on his waist, big and strong, secure around TK. He feels the heath of them through the shirt he is wearing. He can feel Carlos’ heartbeat against his ribcage too, riverbating through him.

Still here. Still alive. 

TK is used to danger. 

But he isn’t used to this kind of danger, when it feels deeply personal, like an attack. 

And it’s all so sudden, after Carlos’s suspension that has luckily been lifted but had given him enough stress and worry making TK wish he could march into Carlos’ precinct and yell at his boss that one of their best officers deserved better. It comes too soon after he was taken hostage and hurt, the wound hasn’t even begun to heal and it’s been roughly torn open again making TK feel so goddamn unsteady, the fear he’s suddenly been slammed with so tangible as it presses down on him from all sides. He feels he’s been edging closer and closer to a panic attack all night and the only thing that hasn’t sent him completely over the edge is having Carlos near. 

But he’s also so goddamn scared suddenly. He’s suddenly terrified of losing Carlos. A car accident, those happen so often and maybe TK’s been naive but this has never felt like such a palpable threat to him before, until now. Until Judd and until Grace. 

“Talk to me?” Carlos whispers, forcing TK out of his thoughts for a moment and TK hugs him closer, biting down the tears that have come unwillingly. 

“You can never leave me.” The words come pouring out of him and his voice breaks, unable to be kept steady. He bites down hard on his lip but an audibly sniff escapes and when Carlos tries to move his head away TK hugs him tighter, not wanting any space left between them.

Carlos is quiet for a moment, but no longer than that. He takes his hands away from TK’s waist and wraps them gently around TK’s wrists to gently tug them away from his neck so he can look at him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks and takes TK’s hands in his, holding them delicately, stroking his thumbs soothingly across TK’s skin. TK angles them slightly against Carlos’ chest, closer to his ribcage, where he can feel the thumping of Carlos’ heart underneath his shirt. It comforts him, the only steady rhythm to latch onto at the moment, to try and steady his own breathing, copying the unwavering rise and fall of Carlos’ chest. 

“I don’t know…” TK whispers, unable to meet Carlos’ eyes. He focuses on his and Carlos’ tangled hands, trails the blue veins with his eyes, Carlos’ slender and long fingers, trying to find the right words, while also buying some time. 

“No?” Carlos gently pushes and TK shakes his head. “TK.” Carlos sighs before he cups TK’s cheek and angles it up so he can meet his eyes. TK blinks a few times to clear his watery eyes and Carlos wipes a stray tear away with his thumb, expression stricken, like it gets when he wants so badly to help but doesn’t know what to do. 

“When I was taken hostage…” He begins, clears his throat a few times, can’t bear watching Carlos upset. “I didn’t really stop to consider how awful it was for you during those hours, and I haven’t been able to grasp the intent completely behind your worrying these few days and now it makes me feel like such an ass. But I understand it now too, what happened to Judd and Grace, it could happen to us too and it’s so scary, so scary Carlos, what if -” He stops, gulps down more tears and bites his wobbling lip hard. 

“Hey, hey.” Carlos says gently and TK’s eyes snap to him. They are sad, but determined too. “It could, but even so I will always promise to fight to get back to you.”

“I wish you could promise me you won’t leave me or that I could promise that nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Well knowing you, letting you out of my sight has proven to be a massive mistake, I swear you’re the most accident prone person I know.” TK wetly chuckles and Carlos’ mouth twitches, the joke easing the tension between them.

“I get scared too, all the time…” Carlos confesses and TK searches his face, reaches out automatically to smooth over the worryline on his forehead, itching to kiss it away.

“Yeah?” TK asks. Carlos nods.

“Yeah, all the time. Especially where you are concerned. But I do think it’s only normal with our jobs and so on. Just… I don’t know, try and be more careful?” The frown grows into a wry little smile and maybe if TK wasn’t so shook from earlier he would have joked it away, but he nods seriously instead.

“I promise. I will always come back, always. Even if I leave.” It’s a painful reminder of TK walking out on Carlos a few months back, still making TK feel ashamed of how he acted. But things are different between them now and walking away from Carlos and from everything they have built together and are going to continue building, that is not an option anymore. “Good.” Carlos whispers and kisses his nose making TK smile. “I will always come back too. Always. I will fight every day to make that promise true.”

“Me too.” TK promises, takes their intertwined hands and kisses the promise into their hands, hoping that the day will never come where he doubts it, doubts them and their future. 

“We’re going to be okay.” Carlos promises and TK closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Carlos’, slowly starting to accept it. 

“Yeah.” TK whispers. 

“And so is Judd and Grace.” 

TK isn’t fully there yet where he dares believe it to be true, but he isn’t giving up hope that it’s all lost either. 

“So, how about a shower?” 

TK opens his eyes, yawns before he stretches, pops his back and nods.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Carlos helps him to his feet and in the bathroom they undress each other before they get in together. TK hums in content as the hot water washes over him and with it the last doubts he has about the future, down the drain where it belongs. As soon as Carlos joins him inside TK walks close, presses his body to Carlos’. It’s not sexual, but it’s a need, to have him near, to let the calmness of Carlos’ wash over him and bring with it a comfort only Carlos can bring out in him and judging by the harsh breath escaping Carlos’ he craves the contact almost as much as TK does. TK presses a soft kiss to Carlos’ heart and it grows comfortable between them. That’s until Carlos decides to squirt shampoo loudly on top of TK’s head, breaking them out of the moment. TK’s glare turns into a laugh and Carlos’s eyes sparkle, so very much alive and TK’s insides flutter.

They shower for longer than what they had planned and when they do make it back to the hospital, carrying food from a place Carlos knows to be one of Grace’s favourite takeaways he feels better, more hopeful and willing to believe that things will work out. Carlos’ hair is messy from TK running his fingers through it, but his arm is secure around TK’s waist and TK’s leaning on his shoulder, watching their family help unpack the bags.

And then Judd wakes up.

[mavrisfanfics]

[Requests] Preferences - Assassin’s with drunk s/o

Ask: by @lunavadash-creates​ I’m sorry it took so long!

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Words: 1043

Warnings: Heavy drinking references

Notes: Happy blog Anniversary!

Ok, so I didn’t do Shay because I haven’t played Rogue yet (Doesn’t stop me from doing Jacob). In fact, I haven’t played an AC game in years because college and life and stuff. The little time to play I’ve had has been spent in other games, which is why I don’t write for any character beyond AC IV except Jacob

Either way! I hope you enjoy the ones I did write! 

Requests and small talk are welcome!

---___---___---___---___---___---___---

Altair

Altair will be amused at first, but progressively get more annoyed and/or embarrassed at your antics. The more he drinks, the less annoyed he gets, but this man knows when to stop, so don’t expect to ever see him wasted. He will definitely think of your unhinged laugh as cute, due to how honest it is, but he won’t find it so funny when he’s the one who practically drags you home.

At this point, he may complain at how annoying you are being, but he would never even think of letting you walk by yourself, afraid you might get hurt. In fact, he’s one of the guys who you can trust the most to take care of you when drunk, because, even if he gets annoyed, he still cares about you and will do anything to make sure you’re safe.

However, do expect him to comment on your behavior the next morning, and God forbid you do something stupid, because he will remind you of it every other time for years to come.

Ezio

If he’s sober, Ezio will chuckle at you and drag you home safely at the end of the night, but this is Ezio we’re talking about, so I bet my money he’s going to be as wasted as you. He’ll find your laugh absolutely hilarious, which results in a couple of drunks laughing at each other until their bellies hurt or one of them pukes, whichever comes first.

If you expect to drink freely and have someone take care of you at the end of the night, Ezio is the worst partner to do that with, and chances are you either have to be the one to take care of him, even if you can barely function, or you’ll have to pray to have a third party to take care of you both, otherwise you won’t make it home.

And although hangovers are never fun, they are a great excuse to have a lazy day together the following morning, so expect lots of cuddles once morning comes.

Connor

Connor is built like a tank, so I doubt this man gets drunk easily. But either sober or tipsy, his reaction doesn’t change, he’ll fondly watch you laugh any day, whether because you’re drunk or not. In fact, his personality doesn’t change at all when drunk, and it’s very hard to see when he’s had a few too many. He will mostly let you do your thing, but he will always watch you like an hawk, hovering near you in case he has to step in and stop you from doing something dangerous or drive away any creeps that may come your way.

Definitely the best guardian when you’re drunk, because unlike Altair, Connor is patient and won’t complain at all, no matter at how loud you may be. If you have difficulty walking, this man won’t make you lean on him, instead he’ll totally carry you himself. This is the only time when you can notice if he’s actually drunk or not, because he may stumble a little too much carrying you home.

10/10 I’d go out and drink with him with no worries.

Haytham

When you get drunk, Haytham will be amused at your antics, but won’t let them get too far. You can laugh all you want, in fact he’ll love it (not that he’ll admit it), but the moment you try to do something more embarrassing, you’re being taken home. And good luck getting him anywhere beyond tipsy, this man knows how to drink, and he definitely knows when to stop. Because of that, unless you explicitly state you want to get wasted, we will stop you before you get to such a state, saving you from possible embarrassment, and from a migraine the following morning.

Edward

I’m sosEdward is the best drinking partner you can get. For starters, that man has built up an insane tolerance at this point, which doesn’t stop him from getting drunk either way, because, while Haytham know how to drink to not get drunk, Edward knows the best ways to get wasted. Then there’s also the fact he’s a pirate, drunk sailors and messy taverns are his things, so dealing with drunk people is a skill of his by now as well. Unlike when dealing with others, though, he’ll have a special tact when it come to you.

He’ll love seeing you have so much fun with yourself and will even join in on it. However, just like Connor, he will be ready to step in and stop you from doing something overly stupid or protect you if needed, even when he’s pissed drunk too. He just has such an overprotective instinct when it come to you that no alcohol can wash it away, which I guess it’s expected from a man who has lost everything at some point.

By the end of the night, he might have sobered up just enough to get you home safe (damn his trained alcohol tolerance), or he might be just as drunk has you and still be able to help you stumble home. All in all, you can be assured that you will have fun and be home safe at the end of the night.

Jacob

Whatever alcohol tolerance Edward forced into the family genes has definitely skipped Jacob because he cannot hold his alcohol. One glass? Fine. Two glasses? Pissed drunk. However, he’ll require about 10 glasses to actually pass out. Basically, he somehow goes from sober to drunk, skipping over the tipsy part completely.

But whether he is drunk or not, he will find your laugh both adorable and hilarious. He will laugh at your antics non-stop and may, sadly, suggest you do some of the stupid shit you will regret for the rest of your life. If he’s drunk too, he’ll be the one to do the embarrassing things and then drag you with it.

Basically, just like Ezio, he’ll join you in your drunk antics but, unlike Ezio, he’ll actually make them worse. Fortunately, he has an entire gang under his command, which means there will always be someone nearby to drag you two home.

Expect to be reminded of everything the following morning because he’s one of those drunk people that remember everything.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

totally jealous of and amazed by your creativity and endless wip ideas... so 📓!

Thanks friend!

Okay, so this was fun, I counted my wips (both in-progress and planning)-- there are 38 lkjadslkfja-- and then had the writerbot roll a die and the corresponding number is the wip I'll tell you about! So, the bot picked 7, which is my dyslexicbobby fic currently titled I Should Not Be Writing This because I have. Too many. Projects. As you can all see.

This is a fic in my if things had been different verse and, as usual, inspired by late night conversations with @sunsetcurvecuddles. Basically, Bobby didn't finish high school cause his best friends died the summer before his senior year and he was already 18 so he could drop out without much issue. Except Ray and Rose don't know this because Bobby doesn't want them to know think he's stupid, until he loses his job cause he doesn't have a high school diploma, so they convince him to get his GED. But then studying goes terribly, even though he's so good at memorizing things he's heard, he just has so much trouble reading. And he basically has a breakdown cause he thinks he's worthless, etc, and Ray "Minored in Psychology" Molina sits him down and goes, "Honey, I think you're dyslexic" and gets him help like the good boyfriend he is :)

Snippet under the read more if anyone's interested!

Send me a book emoji and I'll tell you about one of my too many wips!

Bobby knows he’s stupid.

For years, he had people telling him so: his parents, his teachers, the guidance counselor who kindly suggested he redo the first grade as if he had any kind of choice in the matter. He was shit at math and worse at reading, to the point where sometimes he wondered if he ever really learned how. The only thing he was ever any good at was music, and he was okay with that, because as long as he could shred on the guitar and more or less carry a tune, he had a career, and at least three friends, in the bag without having to do much better than the C-pluses he scraped by with at school.

And even those, by the end, were only because Reggie would stay up late with him drilling equations into his head and reading him his English books out loud when trying to read them himself gave Bobby a migraine.

It was a relief already when he turned 18 in March of his junior year and knew that, if the band really did make it big, he could drop out of school without causing much trouble. Even if the guys had another year left, Bobby figured he and Luke could work while Alex and Reggie were in school, and they could all play music together on the weekends, and Bobby wouldn’t feel like so much of a screwup all the time.

There’s no band now, and the guys are gone, and whether or not he’s going to finish high school is the least of Bobby’s worries.

They’ve been doing this...whatever it is they’re doing, him and Ray and Rose, for a few months now. They live together, sleep in the same bed, go on the cheesiest dates when they all have an evening free. As much as Ray and Rose try to insist otherwise, Bobby feels a little like he’s glommed onto their relationship rather than them all dating each other, but he’s not one to complain. He cares about them both a lot, and anything’s better than being alone.

But they don’t know how stupid he is sometimes, because they’ve only known him the last year, only seen him flirting and playing music (and sobbing and screaming and shaking) and now, recently, working fixing cars at this auto shop down the block for fifteen bucks an hour. They’ve never had to see him stare at the same sentence for ten minutes straight, unable to make the words stand still, never had to watch him struggle to do basic math because the numbers keep switching around on the page and in his head.

Sometimes Bobby feels like he’s tricking them, because he’ll remember some fact about birds Ray told him three weeks ago that Ray himself doesn’t even remember reading, or he’ll pull out trivia he learned from hearing the boys talk about music all the time, and Rose will say, “How do you know all that? You’re so smart!�� And he’ll say, “I’m really not,” but she won’t believe him.

It’s not a big deal, though. Bobby has no interest in going back to school the fall after he loses his boys, so as long as he’s working a good enough job to pay rent, it doesn’t matter that he’s too stupid to read more than a few words at a time and he can’t spell to save his goddamn life and he never finished high school.

Until one day, his boss corners him on his break and says, “Hey kid, corporate’s getting on my ass about labor laws, I need to see your diploma.”

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Akaashi sickfic where he’s rlly nauseous and there’s a lot of build up. He’s trying to keep it down as long as possibly but eventually loses its

> Maybe Akashi and Bokuto are at an amusement park and Keiji throws up there? You can choose why he does.

Glowing yellow reflected off the various metal surfaces at the amusement park, their bright shine blinding those without adequate eye protection. Keiji and Koutarou both fell into the unfortunate group with melting eyes, the former squinting while the latter looked ahead without twinge.

"What should we ride first?" Koutarou wondered outloud, his eyes shimmering with glee.

Keiji thought to himself for a moment, deciding which ride would be the best on his nervous stomach. A feeling akin to anxiety nestled deep into Keiji's core, it's root remained unknown. There were no triggers present, the crowd was light and and calm, the high tempo music providing the perfect upbeat atmosphere. Additonally, Keiji was not one to be afraid of roller coasters.

So why did his stomach flip every time he thought of riding one?

"Maybe the carousel," Keiji offered quietly, subconciously gravitating closer to Koutarou.

"Sounds good to me!" Koutarou grabbed Keiji's wrist and practically dragged him closer to their day of immature fun.

---

--

-

A cold breeze fluttered the area as the sun set over the horizon, gentle pink and orange hues blanketing the atmosphere of the park. Abandonded litter skittered the asphalt, the walkways significantly less crowded as guardians carried their sleeping kids out of the park. Keiji couldn't help but feel envious for those kids, their arms stretched lazily towards the grounds as they struggled to keep their eyes open.

Truth be told, Keiji felt drained. The awful feeling in his stomach had remained promiment, if not more so after a small greasy lunch. But he was almost done. He had made it through the day and Koutarou seemed to still be in high cheers.

"Akaashi!" Koutarou dragged out the 'a' in Keiji's surname, "can we please ride the ferris wheel?"

Keiji frowned, his right hand instinctively traveling towards his stomach.

"You said the last ride would be the last one. I'm tired and ready to go home."

"I only said that cause I wanted to get you to ride it! Plus," his voice got softer, "I really want to see the sunset from that high with you."

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Keiji turned towards the direction of the attraction. Koutarou's excitement was contagious, an aura of happiness radiated off his body as though he was the sun. Keiji liked being around him for this reason. Fueling the happiness was one of the most rewarding activities in the world-- and Keiji would do anything for the familiar splash of yellow to infect his grey world.

"Let's go," Keiji conceded softly, walking towards the queue enterance.

Koutarou smiled widely to himself before reclaiming his spot at Keiji's side. The latter bit back a frown. Anxiety gnawed away at their midsection, with more strength and warning than normal. Going on this last ride was a bad idea. But who could say no to the charming team captain?

Well, a lot of people- predominantly Keiji- but something about being away from their responsibilities made him want to shrug off his sensible side for a day. Take a walk on the wild side, so to speak.

Or maybe Koutarou's sheer volume of dumbass-ery was finally rubbing off on him.

No matter the cause, here the two sat. Across each other in a plastic car, still warm from the previous passengers, slowly rising into the daunting evening.

The movement, though far slower than the previous attractions, affected Keiji in an overpowering way. Perhaps it wasn't the movement at all. Maybe his luck had simply run out, leaving him white knuckling the edge of his seat and practically glaring ahead.

"Are you mad that I made you come on to this last ride?" Koutarou asked, guilt seeping into his tone.

Keiji shook his head.

"I don't..." Should Keiji be honest with his upperclassmen? Lying wouldn't get him far in this situation... But maybe he could will out for a few more minutes.

His stomach turned

Scratch that. There was no willing this out, "I haven't really been feeling that good today."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me? I mean- you did look kinda constipated all day but you usually have that stoic expression so I didn't think much of it. No offense. Well I just said that you look constipated all the time there's not really a way to not take offense to that but I didn't mean it in a bad way, you pull it off. Well that sounded weird, but I meant that in a totally normal way, in a 'you always look good' way not a 'I like it when you look constipated way'; because that would be weird wouldn't it? Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. Sometimes I surprise myself with how much I think. It's like. Woah. I've been holding this in my brain without even realizing it and boom it's all coming out at once. Did you know that competive art used to be in the olympics? What did they do? Isn't art relative based off perception? How could they judge what someone elses mind created? That's why I like volleyball. It's set in stone. I'm gonna be in the olympics, you know that? I dunno when but it will happen. And everyone will look on their screens and see how awesome I am and you'll be in the stands because you don't want to continue your carreer for SOME reason. But that's besides the point. Hey, are you listening?"

Keiji had his eyes closed. The nausea was becoming overwhelming. There was too much happening at once.

The smell of food, perfume and trash.

The jerking movement of the cart.

The incessant rambling of the person seated across from him.

Everything surrounding Keiji took on microscopic form and roiled ruthelessly inside his gut. His shoulders occasionally lurched with queasy hiccups- threatening to send everything overboard.

Why now?

Of all places why did Keiji's stomach chose to revolt at the very top of a ferris wheel, the setting sun casting a blindingly painful glare into his eyes.

Did he have a migraine? Maybe. He couldn't tell at this point. Keiji couldn't keep into account everything going wrong in his body at this point. The only thing he was concerned about was finding a way to leave this ride with as little mess as possible.

"Do you have a bag, Bokuto-san."

"A bug?"

"A bag."

"A rag?"

"A. Bag."

"A hag?"

Keiji muttered curses under his breath at the futility of trying to properly communicate with Koutarou.

"This is time sensitive," he took a deep breath, swallowing a bubble of air traveling up his throat, "I don't believe I'm going to make it off this ride without being sick. So I ask you once more. Do you have a B-A-G."

Koutarou's eyes widened as he began patting his shorts in search of a valid recepticle. There was a fish net (who knows why) but that wouldn't work for obvious reasons. The only other thing which came to mind to be of use was the suveneer sinsola hat he had purchased earlier in the day to protect his neck.

Hastily, he pulled the hat off his head- having a bit of struggle with the strings and his ears, but handing it to Keiji top-down in record time.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Keji squinted his eyes at Koutarou.

"It's that or your lap."

"I'm not going to-"

Get sick in a hat- is what he was planning on saying. But the first gag took over his body before he had a chance to vocalize the rest of his sentence.

"Not going to... what?" Koutarou smirked, finding humor in the situation.

Keiji hiccuped over the hat, averting his eyes from Koutarou and clenching his jaw in embarrassment and annoyance.

Just as their cart jerked to a top at the peak of the ride, Keiji's stomach squeezed. It was a sensation stronger than the tugs he had felt throughout the day. This time, a hot sense of urgency burned the back of his mouth and gripped his esophogus.

Coughing, his body instinctually tried to dislodge the psycological ball in his throat. In response, his stomach contents finally pushed it's way up and out of his mouth in one large wave.

A strange sense of relief came with the awful act- as if the tension which had been slowly building up finally broke. He closed his eyes and allowed the conflicting feeling to overcome him.

Spitting residue acidic spit from his mouth, Keiji leaned back against the seat rest. Drying tears cooled around his eyes, which felt achingly tired. His thighs felt warm where he allowed hat to rest, lacking the energy to lift it fully up.

He barely registered the warm body sitting next to him, let alone the hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

"You okay now?" Koutarou asked gently, his breathy voice warming Keiji's ear.

"Mn-mn," Keiji slowly shook his head no, his eyes remaining shut and face tilted toward the sky.

"And you call ME reckless and stupid, how the turn tables twisted. Why didn't you say anything? Or like, I dunno, stayed home? I would've understood... Maybe."

"Please just be quiet," Keiji mumbled, "and keep rubbing my shoulder... It feels nice."

"I'll rub it until we get you in bed," Koutarou assured, adding his right hand to Keiji's right shoulder.

"Mm, thanks."

Keiji paused.

"And sorry about the hat."

[fishyspots]

cover me with stuff

happy happy birthday to @petrodobreva!!! also available on ao3.

“What just happened?”

Patrick’s breath is coming fast, eyes darting between the back door and where David’s standing in the kitchen. “Um,” he clears his throat. “Nothing. Not a thing. No things.”

“Ah,” David nods. “No things. Would you like to try for something more believable?” After an afternoon of organizing folding chairs in the yard behind the store for a watercolor class the next day, he doesn’t really have the patience for their usual thing, where Patrick talks around his problem until David can suss it out for himself. He might have saved the patience if Roland hadn’t insisted on helping him. David knows that Jocelyn didn’t have to loan him the chairs, but the presence of her husband still felt like too high a price.

Patrick goes to lean against the back door but overshoots and has to use his arm to brace himself. “There’s a snake in the hydrangeas.”

David wrinkles his nose. “This is one of your worst euphemisms.”

“Ew,” Patrick says with feeling. “That’s—I hate snakes.”

“Was it a big snake?” David turns to peek out the kitchen window; he can see a bucket half-filled with weeds and soil spread out where Patrick had abandoned the gardening to find cover. “Should we call someone? Ray was talking about animal control at Twyla’s last party, but I can honestly say that I lost the thread and don’t know if it’s a new business of his or not.”

Patrick shakes his head, cheeks still flushed from his run. David narrows his eyes and looks a little closer. “Garter snake.”

“And you are...allergic to garter snakes?”

“I hate snakes.” Patrick looks at David then, and the look in his eyes makes clear that it’s not exertion but embarrassment turning his cheeks red.

“Aw.” David frowns exaggeratedly. He can sympathize; there was a millipede in the store last week. “Gross. Well, hopefully the snake goes away soon.”

“You don’t have to—” Patrick’s voice goes sharp like it does when they fight. David’s pretty sure this shouldn’t be a fight, so it’s...off. Something’s off. But Patrick inhales and lets it out slowly. “I hate that I’m scared of those stupid things.”

“Um, have we met?” David turns toward the cabinets but keeps Patrick in his sight. “I’m scared of many things.”

“But yours make sense.” Patrick runs a hand over his eyes. “Like the parasailing thing. Who wouldn’t hate heights after that?”

David takes Patrick in without being too obvious. He’s doing that thing with his lower lip that’s adorable and infuriating in equal measure. It’s probably technically a pout, but neither of them want to admit that. David can only make fun of it when he’s being condescending, but Patrick normally doesn’t bring this particular expression out unless it’s something serious that David can’t be petty about. Infuriating, really, because he has so few things he can poke at Patrick about. “You know that a fear doesn’t have to be logical, right? Like, sometimes it is. But I was terrified of my mom’s eyelet lace clutch for a year after she told me it was poisonous. That’s not logical.”

Patrick’s lip stops doing the horrifying thing, which is progress. And the light of teasing is back in his eyes, so David counts it as a win. “Why did she say it was poisonous?”

“She knew I was plotting to steal it.” David waves a hand. “Not important. As long as you can still take care of any and all moths, we don’t have a problem here.”

“Where did the moth thing come from?”

David can play this game. “Where did the snake thing come from?”

Patrick makes a face that’s less horrifying and more funny. David loves his husband and always wants to see him happy, of course, but. It’s fun to see him squirm. “I give.”

But something still isn't quite right. About Patrick’s face. David shakes his head. No, he loves Patrick’s face and all the things it does. Especially—ahem. He’s getting off track. “What else is going on?” He reaches behind Patrick into the wine fridge and grabs a bottle Patrick likes. Or at least David’s pretty sure he likes it—he grabbed three bottles last time they went to the first vineyard that didn't sell banana wine within five hours. It’s not a huge leap he’s making.

“Nothing else is going on.” Patrick looks up at the ceiling, which is one of his more obvious tells.

A memory from their belated honeymoon to Toronto wakes up and kicks around David’s head. Patrick had gotten all worked up about getting a migraine, moaning into the dark hotel room that this wasn’t what David had signed up for, as though he wouldn’t want to be there for any part of Patrick. “Hey,” he says lightly as he reaches for the corkscrew in the drawer. He keeps Patrick trapped between the counter and his arms—he doesn’t want Patrick to slip away from this conversation, slithering away like—ew. Screw this day for making him think so much about snakes. “What else?”

“It’s—I just don’t want you to have to. To be with me when I’m—this isn’t—”

“My kingdom for a conclusion,” David says mostly to himself. But they’re pressed in close, so Patrick fixes him with a look. He winces and sets about being soothing. “You’re not making me do anything.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. David thinks he can probably make fun of this move, but. He’ll wait to test the theory. “You didn’t sign up for—”

“I signed up for you,” David says. He tucks the you idiot back behind his teeth. He senses it will not aid his mission. “Warts and all. Or, um, some other non-amphibious reference.”

“Snakes and frogs are totally different.”

“And we’ll get right back to that deflection after we finish this,” David says sternly. “You didn’t know that I would break my arm in two places the week before our first anniversary, but you still saved me from Stevie’s attempts to deface my cast with doodles. And you didn’t know that my parents would basically move in with us for nearly a month after Sunrise Bay wrapped again.”

“That’s different.” Patrick’s being stubborn, which, water is wet, so it’s not exactly news.

“Because it’s me?” Patrick never minds soothing David’s worries, or talking him down from spirals, or letting him pluck at his shoulders while he works through distressing thoughts.

“No, David.” Patrick uncrosses his arms and pulls at David’s hips until David sways forward. “Because it’s—hard. It’s hard for me.”

“It’s hard for me too, you know.” David shakes his head. That’s not exactly right. “It is in the beginning. To trust that you’ve—got it. That you can handle the hard stuff, or the embarrassing stuff.” He resolutely does not think about wet sheets and aborted livestreams.

“But I can,” Patrick reminds him. Then he breathes out into the space that he’s made for himself against David’s neck. “And you can.”

David wiggles, but gently. He doesn’t want to dislodge Patrick. “I can.”

Patrick’s arms tighten around him, then loosen just enough for David to grab both bottle and corkscrew again. They’ve both earned a drink.

“You’re really good at this,” Patrick says, looking far too impressed. David’s done the corkscrew before. “I feel very supported.”

“I wish I could say I got that all the time.” David plays it up because he knows it will make Patrick smile. He straightens his back and pulls away from the cage of Patrick’s arms so he can watch the way his husband’s mouth turns down in fondness before the happiness takes hold.

Patrick clears his throat, then turns and reaches for the glasses. “A shame,” he agrees. “Especially since you’re so supportive that you won’t make me go back out there. Really kind that you’re going to weed the flower beds for me.”

“I support you,” David says. He thinks fast; doing one outdoor chore might open a door that he can’t close. And he’d rather die than mow a lawn, even if it’s his own. “And because I support you, I also support you facing your fears.”

“I’ll remember that when the next moth needs rehoming.”

“Fine.” David sets his wine glass down and crosses into the kitchen; he’ll get the weeds in the morning. Stevie’s coming over to crash between trips, so if he plays his cards right he’ll make it through the chore without getting any dirt on the knees of his jeans. “But we’re having spaghetti for dinner because now I’m thinking about noodles.”

Patrick chokes on his wine. “Why would you ruin pasta for me while I’m in this fragile state?”

[twomoonstwosuns]

scared.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: mentions/details of injuries/blood, age gap (reader over 18), light angst

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for the wait for this chapter, i hope this is worth it! feedback greatly appreciated!

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Jessika never thought she’d get that phone call.

She didn’t know what to expect when she practically raced to the hospital, sliding all over the icy roads as she tried to get there in one piece. Luckily, she got there safely and was able to walk into the emergency room to see that her friend wasn’t anywhere near death. You were sitting on a bed getting looked at; they weren’t even going to need to admit you.

As you were getting looked at, Jessika went to collect your purse that luckily didn’t have anything missing. Even the cookies you put in to bring to Poe were only a little squished. Before heading back to you, she entered the passcode into your phone and called Poe. She knew you wouldn’t call him, most likely thinking he’d probably ignore your call anyway given your fight.

His voice was just as scared as hers had been. Jessika waited anxiously for him just outside the emergency room, in the waiting area where the people who brought their loved ones in waited to see if they were too late or not. She was so grateful she wouldn’t have to call anyone with bad news.

“Y/N L/N?”

The voice saying her best friend’s name snapped Jessika out of her morbid thinking. She stood, the movement grabbing Poe’s attention out of the corner of his eye where he stood at the check-in desk. He rushed over to her, his heart beating rapidly with each step.

“She’s fine,” Jessika said immediately. “She’s got a minor concussion, some cuts and bruises, and one cut on her forehead that was deep. She’s getting stitched up now.”

Poe visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping in complete relief as he let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Jessika sunk down into a chair, running a hand through her hair as she let out a dry laugh.

“You know, I can binge the hell out of medical dramas but I can’t watch them stitch her up.”

Poe sat down next to her. “What happened?”

“A deer jumped in front of her car. She hit her brakes and hit a patch of ice, which made her spin out, fly off the road, and hit a tree. I guess the front of her car is completely totaled.”

Poe let out a sigh of relief. It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been so much worse. Jessika squeezed her eyes shut, a quiet and pained groan coming from her.

“Are you okay?” Poe looked over at her, genuine concern crossing his face. Jessika nodded slowly.

“I’ve had a migraine all day. It’s better than it was earlier, I’m just waiting for the pain meds to kick in.” She massaged her temples, looking for some kind of relief. “The hospital lights are just really bright.”

“I can take you home, if you want,” Poe offered.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Jessika inhaled sharply as a shot of pain throbbed inside her head.

“You’re not fine,” Poe said again. “It’s not going to go away if you don’t rest. You need sleep in a cool, dark place. Y/N can stay with me tonight so you can do that.”

“Y/N’s expecting me--”

“I know, but if Y/N’s got a concussion, the doctor’s are probably going to want someone to watch her tonight, wake her up multiple times and ask her questions to make sure her memory’s fine.” Jessika glanced at Poe, who gave her a small smirk. “I’ve binged medical shows, too.”

She laughed lightly as Poe continued.

“It’s going to be hard for you to do anything let alone care for another person if it gets worse again. Y/N will understand. I know she’d want you to get better.”

Jessika sighed. “You’re right. I’ll go tell a nurse so they can tell Y/N.”

Jessika grabbed her purse and stood up, turning back to look at Poe.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N is really happy with you. And she really misses you. Whatever argument you guys had, I’m sure it’s not worth letting it go on any longer. Take it from me, who said something stupid and hurtful that I didn’t meanl and has barely talked to her best friend in weeks.”

Poe watched her find someone in scrubs, her words being repeated in his head. She was right and he was stubborn. And with you perched on a hospital bed getting injuries tended to, he could care less that you were in an argument. He had been really worried about you.

》 》 》

An uncomfortable shiver went down your spine as you felt the needle and thread pass underneath your skin. Your head throbbed and your body ached from being jostled around the inside of your car. Anxiousness consumed you as you waited to hear the diagnosis,, practically collapsing forward into the doctor’s arms when he told you that you had been lucky with only minor injuries.

When you finally had the opportunity to call your mother, it took you twenty minutes to convince her that you were fine, that her driving to the hospital would probably result in her ending up in a bed right next to you in the emergency room. You even had to put your doctor on the phone to tell her that you were physically ok and that your roommate would take care of you. She made you promise to rest up and FaceTime her the next day.

The doctor finished your stitches, asking you to hang out while they got you ready to leave. You stretched out your neck from holding it still for so long, sucking in a breath as you grimaced against the pain. Your eyes fluttered shut, the near death experience and adrenaline physically and mentally exhausting you. Quiet, heavy footsteps approached your bed and you opened your eyes in time to see Poe sit down on the end of your bed. Your eyes widened slightly. He was the last person you expected to see.

“Hi,” you quietly said.

“Hey,” he said back, his tone softer than you anticipated. “How’re you feeling?”

“I hurt everywhere, but otherwise good.” You looked behind him. “Where’s Jess?”

“She still has a migraine, so I took her home.”

Your eyes landed back on Poe, softening with appreciation. “Thank you.”

Poe nodded as the doctor came back.

“Y/N, you are good to go. Do you have someone to help you tonight?”

“I will,” Poe interjected, rising from the bed and shaking the doctor’s hand. “She’s going to stay with me tonight.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile. It had been a hopeful sign that he showed up at the hospital, another one when he’d said you’d stay with him.

“Very good. She’s not showing any symptoms of a major concussion, but you’ll both want to monitor for symptoms since she did hit your head - memory loss, balance issues, and prolonged dizziness to name a few.” The doctor spoke directly to Poe, making sure he understood before turning to you. “Here’s some gauze pads. You’ll have to change them out a few times a day, especially after taking a shower. We’ll see you back here in a week to take those stitches out. Take it easy for the next few days. Don’t overwork yourself. Feel free to call us if you have any questions.”

Poe helped you off the bed as you thanked the doctor, keeping a hand on your back as he walked out with you. He grasped your arm as you got into the front seat of his car, patiently allowing you to take all the time your sore body needed. Poe was cautious as he drove to his apartment, careful because of the roads and careful to not scare you. He could tell by the short breaths you were taking and the bouncing of your leg that you were nervous about getting back on the roads that took you out so soon. His car hit a patch of ice as he slowed down to brake for a stop sign, the sudden jerking movement making you tense up.

But neither of you spoke, the only sound in the car coming from the radio.

Poe was helping you, out of obligation or care you didn’t know, but you didn’t want to push your luck by bringing up your argument. He was an affectionate person but he wasn’t touching you like he usually did. You didn’t know where you stood and that worried you.

Beebs jumped and greeted you happily as you walked inside and you had to regretfully nudge him off of you due to your aching body. The warmth of his apartment made you realize how wet and cold your clothes were from the accident. Poe led you into his room, going into the drawer and grabbing some items of clothing.

“I’ll let you change,” he said quietly. “The shower’s yours if you want.”

And then he shut the door behind him. You’d almost wished you were at your own apartment just so you wouldn’t be surrounded by the tension.  Going into the bathroom, you placed his clothes next to the sink and turned on the shower, the idea of scalding hot water a heavenly thought. As the water warmed, you removed your clothes and for the first time that night, you looked up at your reflection.

You were beat up. Small cuts and bruises littered your body from the impact, the cut on your forehead disguised by gauze but throbbing painfully as the edges pinked with the beginnings of a bruise. You peeled back the gauze pad and stared at the cut that was at least the length of your thumb and the ends of the stitches sticking up haphazardly in every direction. For a lack of a better term, you were a mess.

Stepping into the shower, the hot water instantly relaxed your muscles. You carefully washed away any remaining traces of blood, the water at your feet turning pink as it spiraled down the drain. Instead of taking a full shower, you stood under the stream of hot water, replaying the entire night in your mind.

Poe wouldn’t have come to the hospital if he didn’t want to be with you anymore...he wouldn’t have taken you back to his apartment if he no longer cared...right?

You needed to know where you stood.

When the water ran cold, you got yourself together and got out. As you dried off, you pulled Poe’s clothes and smiled. He had grabbed your favorite shirt of his. You slid it over your head, the familiar scent bringing you immediate comfort. His sweatpants were baggy on you, but at least the relaxed clothing wouldn’t constrict your body.

Poe’s bed was still made, indicating that he hadn’t been back in the room since you got into the shower. You sat on the edge, the big bed threatening to swallow you whole if you slept in it alone. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep without saying something, you went searching for Poe. You walked out to see him setting up bedding on the couch. It hurt.

“Poe, can I say something?”

Your voice was quiet, meek; like you were afraid. Poe stopped moving, his attention completely on you. You felt less nervous when you saw the gentleness on his face. It was now or never as you took a deep breath.

“I have never been more ashamed of myself in my life. What I said...you trusted me with something that hurt you so bad and I used it against you in a stupid argument. I broke that trust.” Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall with each spoken word. “I never meant that what happened to you was any less important than what happened to me. I can’t even remember why I said it, but I did. And I hurt you.”

You took a shuddering breath, two single tears falling from each of your eyes.

“I know we’re not talking right now and I can wait until you want to talk, but I couldn’t go to sleep without you knowing how sorry I am. Because I am so, so sorry.”

Poe was silent as he took in your words. The emotion behind them nearly broke his heart.

“I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but I will do whatever it takes for however long it takes for you to forgive me.”

With a final breath and a strange comfort knowing that your words were out there, you turned to go back into Poe’s bedroom. His footsteps and soft voice stopped you.

“Y/N.”

Poe placed a gentle hand on your back, turning you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You sniffled into his chest, your own arms coming up around Poe’s waist and squeezing him into your embrace as a few more tears fell. The fear, the anger, the loneliness; all of the emotions of the past two days overwhelmed you as you clung to Poe like he was your lifeboat and you were sinking. Poe cupped the back of your head, placing a kiss on the crown and resting his face in the softness of your hair as you continued to whisper apologies into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Poe pulled back, damp spots on his t-shirt. The hand that cradled your head came down to wipe the tears off of your cheek. Poe unwound his other arm from you, encouraging you with a gentle push to go with him into the living room. He sat you down on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch directly in front of you, your hands held by his.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” Poe said, and you felt a huge weight lifted from your chest. “And I’m sorry, too. I had no right to get angry with you because of my own jealousy.”

Your shoulders dropped, the weight that had just lifted from your chest returning.

“Turns out you were right, so I guess you did have every right to be mad at me for not telling Ben.”

Poe tilted his head in confusion and you blinked away tears.

“If you’re going to get mad at me for this, please do it tomorrow. I don’t have it in me to fight with you again,” you prefaced. You were pretty sure you’d have a breakdown if you got into a shouting match with Poe. “I got coffee with Ben today, as friends, and he told me he wanted to give our relationship another try. So, I told him about you and he didn’t believe me so I stormed out. I was on my way here when I got in the accident.”

Poe exhaled deeply. Clenching your jaw, you looked away from Poe’s eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the disappointment and anger in them. You went to remove your hands from his, but he just held tighter.

“I’m not mad,” Poe finally said. You looked back up at him. “I’m not the kind of guy that won’t let you have guy friends. It just makes me uncomfortable when your guy friends still want to date you.”

“It makes me uncomfortable too, especially because he didn’t respect me for turning him down and my desire to keep you private. I don’t want to be friends with Ben now that I know this.”

Poe released your hands, not because he was angry but to run a hand through his hair. It was completely messed up from the multiple times he had done it since Jessika called him.

“This was a stupid fight, wasn’t it?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, kinda,” Poe agreed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs. “If I hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have said anything, and none of this would’ve happened. So we’re both at fault.”

Nodding in agreement, you suddenly laughed. The action confused Poe.

“I’m kind of a hypocrite,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“You can forgive me for saying something hurtful but I can’t accept Jessika’s apology? I’m a hypocrite.”

Poe placed his hand on your knee, his fingers wrapping around the bend of your knee. His thumb caressed your kneecap.

“You’re not a hypocrite,” he said. “Everyone processes hurt different. You’re human. Give yourself a break.”

The corners of your lips twitched and you shook your head in disbelief.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do. You deserve everything.”

You tried to stop the smile on your face, but couldn’t.

“There’s that smile,” Poe said as one graced his own face. You chuckled lightly. You put your hand on top of his.

“You know it was risky for you to come to the hospital?”

“I know,” Poe said softly, “but I’m your boyfriend and I had to make sure you were ok. And you’re worth the risk.”

Warmth spread from your neck to your cheeks. Poe had an incredible ability to make you forget everything you know, from his touch, his words, and even with just a look. You didn’t know how to respond to this man, this kind, kind man who had taken care of you despite being in a fight with you. So you said the only thing you’ve been thinking since he sat down on your hospital bed.

“Can I kiss you now?”

Poe chuckled. “Please.”

You stood up and pulled Poe’s lips to yours with both hands on his face, a sense of urgency behind the movement of your lips. You climbed into his lap, Poe gently guiding you down as he leaned back against the couch. You missed his kisses, the softness of his lips and the way he kissed you like it was better than breathing. Your hair fell around you, acting as a shield between the happy bubble you were in and everything else. He pushed your hair back from your face and you melted into the tender touch, the warmth of his hands on your skin lighting your skin on fire and igniting one in your belly.

Poe’s hands moved from your neck down to your waist to bring you even closer. You gasped sharply as his grip tightened, making him pull back suddenly with a worried look.

“Bruises,” you whispered with a half chuckle. “I have to take it easy for awhile.”

Poe placed a kiss on your lips, his hands tenderly moving down your waist to rest on your thighs.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you for more than sex.”

“Oh, I’m such a lucky girl,” you yawned. Poe chuckled.

“You need sleep.”

“Come with me?”

“I don’t know,” Poe leaned against the couch, relaxing into his spot. “My couch is pretty comfortable.”

You sighed loudly and dramatically, sliding off of Poe’s lap.

“Suit yourself.” You flashed him a cheeky smile. “I’m sure Beebs will be happy to keep your spot warm.”

The flicking of light switches turning off echoed behind you as you walked into Poe’s room and climbed into his bed. Poe got in next to you, settling onto his side and looking down at you.

“How’s your head?”

“It hurts.”

“What’s your name?”

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure your minor concussion hasn’t become worse,” you gave him a look. “Humor me, please?”

You rolled your eyes. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

“Who am I?”

“You’re Poe Dameron, my incredibly sexy and kind and wonderful boyfriend.”

Poe smiled down at you,

“What day of the week is it?”

“Friday. Well, technically Saturday now.”

Poe nodded, content with your answers. He then pressed a kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, you placed a hand on his cheek to stop him from moving away. You gazed up at him, like you were memorizing every inch of his face. Lifting your head, you placed your lips on his for the second time, this time with a tenderness only lovers shared. Poe’s eyes were soft when you pulled back.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” you whispered, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Poe leaned down and kissed your lips, the tip of your nose, and then your forehead before relaxing his head onto your pillow and pulling you into him. Your arms encircled him, your head nuzzling into his chest.

On a night you think you wouldn’t be able to sleep, it welcomed you like the familiar arms that held you.

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[lookoolah]

love in every sip (1.9k) read on ao3 for the “coffee” square on my @tonystarkbingo flash card

Tony startled himself awake when he made a move to get into a more comfortable position on the tiny couch that was clearly not meant for sleeping on, which he certainly had a difficult time learning over the course of the years that the tiny couch had found its way to Tony’s workshop (with some help from Pepper, probably). He wasn’t sure whether he woke up in the millisecond that he was hovering in the air between the ridiculous couch and the ground or when he facepalmed into the floor, but awake he definitely was. 

“Ow, shit.” He groaned, looking up vengefully at the stupid sofa. “J, as soon as you can, place an order for the biggest, comfiest couch you can find on the internet, thanks!” He gritted out through his teeth, hoping that the tiny couch felt insecure and unlovable. 

“Right away, Sir.” 

He looked up at the StarkPad displaying the time that he had perched on top of his coffee-table as a make-shift digital clock (whoever said he wasn’t one for interior design?). It was 9am, anyway, so he might as well be getting up now. That is if he was pretending to be a healthy functioning human being that didn’t spend the last 72 hours in his workshop and fell asleep 3 hours ago on this stupid, unlovable couch. 

He made his way to the main kitchen, waving sleepily at the team that was lively bickering in the breakfast nook. Oh right, that’s what they looked like, other people. He thought it would be a good idea to brush his teeth before any silverware made contact with the inside of his mouth lest it immediately corroding. 

After spending way too long sitting on the toilet because his body seemed to enjoy falling asleep in the most uncomfortable of places, he finally made his way back to the now-empty kitchen, where on the counter he found a steaming coffee in the Iron Man mug from the Avengers mugs set that Clint thought was the perfect $15 Christmas gift for the people that literally risked their lives by his side on day-by-day bases. Tony frowned, walking over to the island, unsure whether he blanked out and made coffee in the short interval of semi-wakefulness between sleeping in odd places. He spotted a napkin next to the mug, where a neat cursive looked back at him.

“Good morning, Tony. Please stop pulling all-nighters for three days straight,”  it said. 

Huh? Tony really only had the energy to ponder about when, by whom, and why the note was written and the coffee made for a total of ten seconds before his sleep and caffeine-deprived mind short-circuited and he gave in to the inviting aroma of the drink. And, well, whoever his barista in shining armor was unquestionably knew just how strong and sweet Tony liked his coffee (that being, real strong and real sweet). 

☕.

He really didn’t expect it to become an ongoing thing. He didn’t expect that the next morning, upon walking into the kitchen (from his bedroom this time, thank fuck ) he would be met with the same Iron Man mug on the counter with another napkin neatly placed next to it, its edge tucked under the mug as if to make sure that the soft blow of air from the air conditioning wouldn’t blow it away, care written all over the scene. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Glad you actually got some shuteye tonight, finally. Hope you have a good day.” 

Tony read the note over a few times, twice in his head, and once under his breath, with a small smile that he didn’t notice was there until Steve, who was apparently in the pantry, called attention to it. 

“Cheery this morning, huh?” 

“Oh, uh,” Tony looked up from the napkin in his hand, trying to hold back the smile, “You tripped and fell in my dream, still laughing at it.” He lied, protectively wrapping his hands around the warm Iron Man mug. 

Steve chuckled in response, putting down the box of Lucky Charms and reaching above the sink to grab himself a bowl.

“You want some cereal?” He asked, putting down a bowl in front of Tony without waiting for a response. 

“So courteous of you, Cap,” Tony started filling his bowl with milk while Steve was pouring cereal into his, “And they say chivalry is dead.” 

Steve made a face at him, probably about to give a schpiel about why would you pour the milk first, Tony? 

“Why would you pour the milk first, Tony?” He said, handing Tony the Lucky Charms and taking the milk from his hands. 

“Because I’m a certified genius, that’s why.” Tony winked, taking a sip from his coffee. Shit, so perfect again. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to see who made this coffee, would you?” He asked tentatively, filling his bowl with cereal. 

“Didn’t you make it?” Steve canted his head in confusion and brought the spoon to his lips. 

“No, actually, I didn’t,” Tony took another sip of his coffee, “I wonder who did, though.” This time, as he looked down at the dyed marshmallows in his milk, he failed to notice both the involuntary smile he pressed into the rim of his Iron Man mug and the one Steve stifled around a mouthful of his cereal.

☕️.

The random coffee offerings in a particular Iron Man mug and a neat cursive turned regular from then on, and it was starting to become clear that his barista in shining armor was really more of a secret admirer expressing their affections through coffee beans. 

The mugs waited for him at the counter almost every morning, the team off at a mission, the team just sitting down for breakfast, the team finishing up breakfast. The mugs were on a coaster on his desk when he fell asleep at it while working on a new design, while fixing an old design, while ignoring emails from some super important government officials. The mugs, for fucks sake, were sat on an old paperback next to the tiny couch that Tony continued to fall asleep on, even after the biggest, comfiest couch on the internet arrived. 

“Good morning, hope you slept well. You look adorable with bedhead.” 

“Heard you walking around late last night, I wish I could drive off all your nightmares with a broom.”

“Stop falling asleep at your desk, idiot, your neck will get stuck like that.” 

“That couch looks like it’s not meant for sleeping on.” 

Tony found himself growing more and more fond at every note, every word, every sip. He didn’t think that it was possible for him to look forward to his daily dose of caffeine more than he already did, but this new routine indisputably made him jittery with excitement every morning. 

He started to watch the team closely, in an attempt to figure out their tells. Who saw me this morning with my bedhead? Who likes to broom? Who doesn’t like tiny uncomfortable couches?

But, alas, none of the notes had been specific enough to pinpoint someone or even narrow down the list, and Jarvis was refusing to give him any information on the grounds of some “No Stalking Protocol, Sir” bullshit. 

That was, of course, until the afternoon that Nick Fury, somehow Tony’s saving grace in this mystery, called him up to his office. Tony plopped down on the chair in front of the desk, crossing his leg and taking a sip of his smoothie. 

“You should really try this place from down the block someday, I hear they grow all their shit themselves.” He took another sip, the little to no remnants on the bottom of the cup loudly coming up the straw. “Ugh, to die for!” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Nick rolled his eye, and Tony wondered whether The Nick Fury Eyeroll pre tragic eye loss accident was more or less puissant. “I need you to look over this report that Rogers submitted and discuss with the team whether or not every update that you insist on installing in their suits has really been necessary.” Nick handed him a transparent folder and Tony cringed at both the utmost ludicrous implication that advancement is not always necessary and at the prospect of paperwork. “It seems to me like on this particular mission they were more of a disruption rather than advantage.” 

Tony flipped open the file and looked up at Nick through his eyelashes, taking one final loud sip of his Blueberry Mist smoothie. 

“I’m sorry, did you just allude to that progress is not an essential part of human existence? My goodness, I did not know you to be such a conservative, Nick!” He clapped a hand over his heart, prompting another eyeroll. The eye patch, Tony thought, definitely made it more effective. 

“Stop bullshitting me and just look over the report, Stark.” Tony chuckled and looked down at the paper, a neat cursive looking back at him. 

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, flipping through the pages and staring at the way the letters braided into each other, just like on the napkins Tony read sweet nothings form every morning. He looked up at the top of the paper, where next to the printed “Name” it read in pretty, oh-so-pretty cursive, “Captain Steven Rogers.”

☕.

Steve woke up from a dull migraine that he had been nursing for the past week or so. He sighed, taking a large sip of the lukewarm water from the bottle he had discarded in his room a few days ago. Everyone was always talking about how important drinking water is nowadays, but Steve was never really a fan of health schticks anyway. As he made his way to the kitchen, he asked his own brain not for the first time this week why it wasn’t healed by the oh-so-magical properties of the oh-so-magical serum. A look at the digital clock in the elevator told him it was 7am on a Sunday, and he tried to remember what time it was last night when Tony excused himself to his bedroom from movie night, claiming that he was too exhausted for thrillers that evening. 

Stepping into the kitchen, however, he was met with a sleepy Tony in an oversized gray Led Zepellin hoodie and plaid pajama pants, sitting Indian Style in the breakfast nook with an Iron Man mug in his hands, taking small sips from it and the smell of coffee traveling from the coffeemaker on the kitchen counter to Steve. 

Oh. He felt the pang of disappointment in his chest at the realization that Tony woke up earlier than him. This week really didn’t like Steve much, did it? 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Tony broke the silence and Steve felt some of the disappointment dissipating at the raspy sleep-deprived timbre of Tony’s voice, “I made coffee,” he nodded over to the island that Steve was standing in front of, “I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Why would I ―” Steve cut himself off when his eyes landed on the Captain America mug from the Avengers mugs set that Clint thought was the perfect $15 Christmas gift for the people that literally risked their lives by his side on day-by-day bases. Steve felt his heart skip a beat and he held his breath as he reached out and pulled the mug towards him. Under it, of course, there was a napkin with a blocky print scribbled over it. 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are, Mr. Rogers.

Busy tonight?” 

[1zashreena1]

Princess and the Migraine -7

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: When Princess needs his help Murder Panther undergoes a trial by fire and comes out soft and gooey. Like a marshmallow. A really sexy, highly dangerous marshmallow.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and 'the code is more like guidelines' outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

NO SMUT, usage of names, mild groping (he’s still Diego), illness and medical establishments, plus size woman+fit man, secretly competent Diego!, helpless Princess, bad boys with too much money and not enough impulse control, secondary OCs, excessive swearing (???), illegal business dealings... I mean, its DIEGO

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I'm not a fan of "plot" so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​​ @symbiont13​​ @nicke0115​​ @bunnykjm​​ @rosee-sensuelle​​ @girlpornparadise​​ @mandoplease​​ @heresathreebee​​ @xxsteph-enrixx​​ @jetiikad​​ @joalsglasses​​ @mutantcookiesecrets​​ @demoncatstone​​ @squidlywiddly87​​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​ @poeedamerons​

gif by @nicke0115​

Diego had received the normal text from his Princess, a simple and efficient 'here' attached to a selfie. This Friday the selfie was in his bed, that mane of ringlets tossed up over the pillow and those deep blue eyes half closed in relaxation. There was nothing sexual about it, hell, he couldn't even see her lips, and it still made him half hard. What if I could see that every day? In person, right next to her? I must convince her to quit that stupid little job.

Groaning softly, he flips the phone to be held horizontally in his left hand while the right presses the heel of his palm into his burgeoning erection. He cannot wait to bury himself into that soft little body; fingers, tongue, dick, anything. She is the softest woman he has ever touched, even her tiny little feet are soft, it is maddening. He slouches down into the backseat to relieve some of the pressure from his pants.

"You want me to stop anywhere, boss?" Bastian asks from the driver's seat. Bastian is a good kid, he follows orders, he is efficient, he even anticipates needs like this, offering to get food on the way home. He looks nothing like his uncle. Julio always did say that his little sister liked blondes and Bastian was living proof.

"No, I will see what she wants to do first." Diego wants to get his hands on Princess more than he wants food.

Julio chuckles from the front seat, "His dinner is already at home, eh?" He's been with Diego for twenty years, he knows how this goes down.

"One can only hope." Diego mutters as he flips through the 'Pretty Princess' photo album in the phone's gallery. Sure, there are the expected compromising pictures (much to his delight, she enjoys posing seductively at any level of undress), but many are shots of her laughing, being excited at a new restaurant, snuggled into his side at some scenic location perfect for a couples' pic.

A couple. Is that what they are? Does he want that? (Yes) Can I have that? (I will).  He hasn't wanted any of what used to be his regular girls in… six months. Sure, Franchesca and, and whatever-her-face-is accompanied him to some club events, he even let Franchesca blow him in the car. But it wasn't until he closed his eyes and saw another gaze, drowning blue and dark as ink, that he came. Vocally. Franchesca at least knew better than to comment. That was the last time.

He wants this. He wants Princess. His Princess. How, he has no idea, but he assumes he'll figure it out. He has figured out how to survive his sister and his profession all the way to age 42. He has figured it out so far and he has no plans to stop now. 

That book about relationships and autism spectrum really helped, maybe there are other similar books that he can get. Is there a book on how to get women to admit feelings? There has to be a book on something so… unusual, yes?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The elevator dings and he steps out before the doors are fully open. The common area is dark and quiet. "Princess?" He calls. Nothing.

Maybe she is still in the bed waiting for me. The image throws him into rapid motion; the jacket is tossed over the back of the sofa and he pulls the gun out of his belt to place it on the breakfast bar as he passes by. With huge strides, he hurdles up the stairs and into the bedroom. 

The small lamp on the nightstand is at the lowest setting, turned to a faint aqua color. She does love fiddling with the ridiculous color options. Her bag is on the floor in front of the closet along with her purse, shoes, and a trail of clothing to the bed.. Odd, she always places everything just so. Never just, just dropped… anywhere.

 Princess is in the bed… but she is asleep. 

Diego pushes his shoes off and pads over to her side of the bed. Her glasses are on the nightstand and next to them the gemstone ring he gave her is threaded onto one of the diamond tennis bracelet for safekeeping. It makes him smile, how thoughtfully she cares for his gifts.

"Princess?" She winces at his soft rumble and cracks one eye open. "What's wrong?" He reaches out to touch her hair and she flinches away. Ouch, what the hell?

She holds out a hand, he takes that instead. "Baby?" Her voice is so quiet he can barely hear her. Something is very wrong. 

Kneeling to the floor, Diego rests his chin on the bed directly in front of her face and waits. He has learned that if it's something physical that is bothering her he can simply wait her out. Each time that he has tried this it resulted in a shorter wait period the next time and a less agitated Princess. He's not sure if he is training her or if maybe it's the other way around.

Her fingers curl around his thumb, small but strong. Finally, she opens her mouth, "I have a migraine. Was fine earlier, but police lights. On whatever bridge. We sat for like ten minutes, Bastian couldn't get out of the traffic. I took medicine, but I need to sleep." She pauses, her eyes closed tightly and brow furrowed. Her breathing is shallow, like she is trying very hard not to cry. "I'm sorry, baby." She whimpers, and then a real tear does escape.

"No no no, Princess. No crying. Please do not." The absolute last thing Diego can deal with today is that pretty little face all red and messy with tears. She sniffles but doesn't move away when he wipes the tears with his thumbs. Those blue eyes are watching him very closely.

"Are--" she licks her lips and tries again, "Are you mad at me?" Her high voice cracks at the end and she blinks back more tears. Apprehension is coming off of her in waves.

Diego cocks his head, trying to understand where this question comes from. "You… think I will be mad at you for being ill?" Slowly, he leans closer to her while she nods tightly with a tiny 'mm hmm' of affirmation. When she huddles into herself, almost hiding under the covers, understanding begins to bloom. "Have other people gotten mad at you for becoming ill?"

Princess swallows hard, her eyes slide away from his. She is embarrassed. Someone has managed to shame her into feeling guilty about a hereditary illness she has no control over. He can feel rage climbing up inside his chest.

"Y-y-yeah. It's really inconvenient. I ruin p-plans like this. I'm sorry." Her voice is muffled by the covers. She picks at the stitching on the sheet, snapping her nail back and forth over the threads in a nervous tic.

Right now, I am doing the training because this needs to be broken. Immediately. He takes a deep breath, "No, Princess. No one can be mad at you for suffering from a condition you cannot control. That is ridiculous. I could never be angry at you for getting sick." He tries very hard to sound soothing and not like he's about to reprimand a ludicrous child. Slowly, he pulls the sheet down until her entire face is visible. Her eyes flick back to him, then away again. "Aqui." She obeys the command thoughtlessly, locking on his gaze. Diego raises a brow in question.

Princess huffs a soft sigh, then whispers, "Okay." Her face smooths out, eyebrows straightening and lips relaxing back to their normal fullness. Her little nose even unwrinkles as she eases. She must decide she buys it, because next she timidly asks, "Will you bring me a Coke?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diego gets her settled with her phone (which he silences) and the small bottle of Coke (opened downstairs so the noise doesn't hurt her). When she pulled herself upright to drink he realized she was still dressed so he got her into pajamas, it was odd putting clothing onto her instead of taking it off. She kept her eyes closed and allowed him to move her around like a ragdoll, relaxed and trusting.

The tightness in his chest only worsened when she crawled into his lap and nuzzled into him with a plaintive, "Hold me." Princess wasn't really a cuddly type of girl, so he knew this was bad. After ten minutes she was done with the 'mushy stuff' as she referred to it. He let her get situated then went downstairs with instructions to check on her in two hours.

Diego spent the time researching migraines, her medication, and other possible treatments. Julio came and went with dinner, cheesesteaks that Princess had mentioned long before the police strobe lights. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The required two hours have passed, Diego swears it was two days long, so he heads upstairs to check on her. Princess is on her stomach, head turned to the left, and her mouth hanging open. His hand lands softly on her shoulder while he calls her, "Princess?" 

Nothing happens.

He tries again, just a little louder, "Princess? Hey, mirame."  Still no response. She is a light sleeper, this is highly unusual. And he is beginning to be concerned. 

Diego nudges her shoulder, then, when he gets nothing, pushes until she rolls over. She doesn't even make a sound. Shit. Shit shit shit. 

"Hey! Bicki! Wake up, come on." Her lashes flutter and she makes a whiny noise. Sitting on the bed, he hauls her into his lap so she leans back against his left arm. Tapping her cheek with his right hand gets a semi-verbal response.

"Dieg.. Where. I'm. Can't." She slurs and burrows into his chest. "Too brigh. Is brigh." Her voice is so quiet he can barely understand her. Her tiny hands are fisted in his shirt, hanging on for dear life. 

He grips her jaw in his right hand and turns her head to face him. "Princess? Can you tell me?" She's struggling through his name, like her tongue is too big for her mouth. "Yes, it's me. It's your Diego. We're home, in bed. You're safe." Her brow furrows as she processes this information. It takes three times longer than it should, he hasn't seen anyone this fucked up in a long time. Its terrifying. 

Finally, her hands in his shirt ease their grip and she looks around the room. "Diego?" She is squinting hard, blinking slowly.

"Right here, Princess." Turning her to face him, he can see that her eyes are completely unfocused, pupils so small they're barely visible in a sea of grayish blue. Her hands come up to touch his face and she makes a tiny noise of distress.

"Baby. Can't see. I can't." Her whisper fades as she goes limp, eyes rolling up. Her breathing stays even, if shallow, so he doesn't panic. Yet. She said she does this, that she will black out. Her whole family does it. Her sisters, her niece, her mom… HER MOM. 

Hit by sudden inspiration, Diego whips around to her phone on the nightstand and snatches it up. Her mom. Her mom would know what to do, right? Easing her deadweight back to the bed, he makes sure she is breathing easily, then turns back to her phone. He unlocks her cell with his left hand while digging his out of his right pocket. There, at the top of her contacts labeled 'Emergency', Mom. Dad. Diego. He ignores the sharp flutter in his chest at seeing himself as her emergency contact, and opens up the Mom item. Before he can second guess himself, he taps in the number in on his own phone and hits the green button. She better know who I am or this is going to be a disaster. 

It rings twice before a remarkably similar voice answers, "Hello?"

Shit, now what?

"Hello, is, is this Kat?" Fuck. Shit. Damnit Diego.

"Yes…?" It really is startling how similar their voices are.

"I do not know if you know who I am, my name is Diego and I--"

"Diego! Ohhh, I know who you are." She laughs lowly, just like Princess. He notes the fact that she recognizes him instantly for later discussion.

"I apologize for calling like this, but I need your help." He tries not to sound scared. He does not get scared.

"What's wrong? Is she okay? Are you okay?" Apparently he failed. Her mom, Kat, knows instantly that something is amiss.

"She said she had a migraine and took her medicine. Now, I cannot get her to wake up fully and she keeps repeating that she can't see. I don't know what to do, I've never seen her like this. Please." It all comes out in a rush, he hopes she can understand his rapidly thickening accent.

"Okay, first of all, take a deep breath." Do I sound that panicked? Should I be panicked?!? "This isn't that unusual for her more severe migraines. As long as she keeps breathing. Is her breathing fairly normal?"

He watches her chest rise and fall at regular intervals. "I, err, yes? It's a bit fast, but even." 

"Good. That's good, Diego. She is not going to like this, but you have to take her to the ER."

"Okay. I can do that. Yes."  Wait, what do you do when you take someone to the ER?

"Okay, listen. You have to tell them that she's had these since she was a kid. She takes the highest tablet dosage of imitrex, tell them what time she took it. She needs the shots, yes she has had them before, no drug allergies. Under no circumstances do you tell them that she blacked out or they will admit her. Also, no chance of pregnancy, they'll ask that. If they think she might be pregnant then they won't treat her."

THEY WHAT.

"What do you mean? Won't give her the shots? If she might be pregnant? What shots?" Diego is very confused. This is a lot of information in a very short time and all of it is very important. Why would that matter?

"Hospitals will not give medications to pregnant women. Only tylenol, generally. And that isn't going to help." Her mom sounds like this topic has been thoroughly debated in their household. 

"Okay. No pregnancy. No black out. Have been having these her whole life, need shots, have had those before. I have the bottle of ...imitrex? I should take it along?" He ticks each item off on a mental list. "Actually, could you text all of... that?" He most definitely does not want them to admit her.

"Of course. And taking the bottle is perfect, that's quick thinking. What time did she take it?"

What time did she take that?? She had already taken it when he got home. "Sometime before seven…? Yes. Between six and seven."

"One last thing, I want you to be prepared. Its two shots, a sedative and a pain medication, but they'll put it in her butt."

That's… interesting. "In her butt?? She won't even let me put something in her butt." He mutters petulantly.

Her mom is sputtering with laughter. "Oh, I see why this relationship works. Wow. This is perfect."

"Err, is there anything else? I've never been to an ER, so. Um." Something about the way she sounds just like Princess puts him at ease, like he doesn't need to worry about impressing her.

"No. I'll text you the list after we hang up. Just let me know how she is tomorrow, okay? I know you'll take care of her, Diego."

"Yes, I will. Thank you." He ends the call and texts Julio to get up here now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ER is pandemonium and Princess is extremely unhappy to be there. She is curled into his side, trying to hide from the noise and the light, while Bastian fills out forms for her. Julio thought to bring her purse, it was a very good idea since her entire identity is in there. When Bastian hands over the forms to the desk the nurse sees Princess's hospital work badge in his hand with her ID and she magically shoots to the top of the waitlist. 

The nurses come to take her into the back, they bring her a wheelchair which she grumbles about but goes willingly when Diego pushes her into the seat. He wants to go with her, but he isn't family. If this were anyone else he would do whatever he wants, but this is his Princess. The thought of breaking her trust by violating her privacy is unbearable, anything like this has never been discussed. 

They barely disappear around the corner before a nurse comes right back.

"Alright. Which one is Diego? She will not shut up and she will not calm down. Come with me." The nurse grabs his arm and practically drags him for a few steps until his longer legs catch up. 

They go into a curtained room where one nurse is trying to manhandle yoga pants down well-rounded hips and another is opening prefilled syringes. Princess is swiping at the unfamiliar hands on her body, unbalanced and jumpy. Little noises of fear escape from her lips in high pitches, her head is down and her eyes are closed tightly against the florescent lighting. Diego suddenly remembers that she can't see. She is terrified.

"Princess?" The second he touches her with one hand she dives into him. Her own little hands claw into his shirt and she tries to mold her body to his. "I'm here. You're safe." Wrapping arms around her, he holds her still tightly. She nods against his chest and relaxes a tiny bit. 

The nurse with the syringes looks pointedly at Princess's butt, then back up at him. Oh. Right. Sliding one hand down her back, he inserts fingers into the back of her pants and eases the elastic waistband down. "Its just me," he whispers into her hair as she trembles in his hold. The strong muscles of her butt twitch, but she doesn't fight him. She trusts me. 

Its over in under five seconds, both shots and both bandaids, one set on each side. She jumps with each injection but can't seem to process what happened fast enough to respond appropriately. 

The nurse doesn't even bother to look up from cleaning the table. "Okay, take her home and put her to bed. She'll sleep for the next eight hours." 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That's it?"

"Yep, thanks for your help." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Princess succumbs to the sedative halfway home and Diego has to carry her to bed. She really does sleep for most of Saturday. He keeps going in to check on her, she is completely limp and doesn't change position once. Its a bit disturbing how helpless she is like this. Has she had to do this alone before? Or, worse yet, with the awful ex?

He stays right beside her after that.

When she finally wakes her eyes are normal again and she immediately reaches out for him. "Diego?"

Her little question makes him smile warmly. 

"Right here, Princess. Welcome back."  He rumbles softly, unsure if sound still hurts her. Stroking one hand down her back makes her arch up into his caress. So beautiful. 

She squints up at him through the curtain of her hair. Slowly, Princess rises to all fours, then eases back to sit. "I…" she blinks at him. "I have to pee." 

Okay, so awake but not totally coherent yet. She requires a little assistance in the bathroom, mostly a steady arm to lean on, but they manage it with only mild to moderate giggles and one bruise-inducing bump to the corner of the counter. 

She stumbles back to bed, collapses face down, sticks her left arm out in his general direction, and wiggles fingers at him then back at herself.

"Take the stupid bandaids off. Shit itches."

Oh yes, finally time to touch the butt.

Diego sits on the bed beside her, one hip pressed up against her own. He firmly strokes both hands down her back just to hear her deep moan of pleasure. She arches up when he reaches the curve of her ass. Oh good, she is feeling better. Fuck that, she feels amazing, he chuckles at his own joke but doesn't pause in gently groping her. The silky panties slide easily over her cheeks, the sight makes his mouth water. The pale skin is only marred by the bandaids, so he pulls them both off in rapid succession then smooths fingers over the red marks. 

"Mmmmm," she moans with the gentle treatment, "Thank you for taking care of me. That's the first time someone other than my parents did that for me. How did you know to take me to the ER, anyway?" Her voice is muffled in the pillow, soft and sleepy and content.

Diego absent-mindedly runs a finger down the crack of her ass, feather light. "Your mom told me what to do when I called her."

"YOU CALLED MY MOM?!?!"

Judging by her volume, apparently no, sound does not hurt her anymore.

[emisfritish]

Our gift to the world - Episode 2

Pairing: Pang/Wave (The Gifted/The Gifted Graduation)

Summary: Episode codas of an established Pang/Wave in The Gifted Graduation.These can all be read as standalones, but they fit into the same canon-compliant universe. Episode 2 -  Scene set at the end of the episode after the whole talk with Time. 

Previous parts : Ep 1.

Next parts : Ep.3 / Ep.4 / Ep.5 / Ep.6 / Ep. 7 / Ep. 8

Series on Ao3

Notes : Okay, and that’s the coda for episode 2 ! Enjoy this weird mix of angst and fluff, all into one fic. 

Later in the evening, once The Gifted students have answered all of Time’s questions and after Wave’s continuous monitoring of school cameras to make sure that the group of Anti-Gifted students were found and picked up by school staff for what they hope will be severe disciplinary actions, Pang finds himself back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed. 

Today has been exhausting, he thinks to himself, as he lets his head fall backwards until it hits gently against the wall behind him and closes his eyes, trying to hold off the migraine he can feel building within him. The evening definitely hadn’t gone down like they planned, and although the mission had been a success and no one had gotten hurt in the end, Pang still feels uneasy with how close a call it had been, and the many thoughts and questions still plaguing him. 

First, this was all his fault. Sure, he disagrees with everything the Anti-Gifted stand for right now and he hates the way they go at things, but he’d also been the one to bring them into the fold, to impress upon the other Gifted students that it was a good idea. Blinded by his ideals, he inadvertently created them, and every single action they do now indirectly falls back on him. 

Which leads him to the second thought that is currently so imposing it almost paralyzes him in fear… Was he repeating the same mistake with Time ? 

Sure, Time looks like his heart in his the right place and he only wants to help make things better too, but that’s exactly what Pang thought when he first introduced the non-gifted students to his friends, and one only has to look at the situation today to see how bad that particular decision had been. 

Pang hates the idea of potentially putting even more people in danger by bringing Time into the fold. The idea that the decision he took by not forcing Time to forget everything that’s happened recently could ultimately harm his friends, could harm Wave… he doesn’t think that’s something he could live with. Not again.

“I can hear you overthinking things from all the way over here,” a voice suddenly cuts into his thoughts. 

“You don’t read mind, that’s not what your gift is,” Pang says as he lifts his head to look towards his boyfriend who is currently leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, studying him. 

“Trust me, I don’t need it to be my gift to be able to read you like an open book right now,” the other boy answers, before he pushes his way forward to make his way into the bedroom. 

“Move over,” he orders once he reaches the bed, prompting Pang to scoot to the side to leave enough room for Wave to sit next to him, which he does instantly. The immediate comfort coming from the warmth of their sides being pressed loosens Pang’s shoulders a bit.

Neither of them say anything for a couple minutes, and Pang can feel Wave’s stare burning into the side of his face, his boyfriend studying him intently before he finally breaks the silence. 

“Are you okay ?” 

Wave’s voice when he asks the question is low and soft, in a way it so rarely is, and even in the midst of everything going on, Pang takes a second to appreciate that he’s one that gets to see this Wave, and appreciate this softer side of him. 

He shrugs in answer, not quite knowing how to put all of his feelings into words, and Wave nods back, as if that reaction was to be expected. 

“Talking about her never gets easier,” Wave confesses, looking away from Pang to look at the cupboard sitting in front of the bed, where they both know a picture of Ohm, Pang and Namtarn is hidden from view, safely taped on the inside of the door.  

Namtarn.

His discussion with Time and the rehashing of the past has left a sour taste in his mouth, and even after all these months, talking about her and what she’s been through never gets easier. The fact that most of the school seem to think that him and his friends are to blame for hurting her, for hurting one of their own… well, that just makes it even more painful.

Of course Wave would know that Pang’s head has been filled with memories and thoughts about her ever since his talk with Time earlier. If anyone outside of him and Ohm understands the feelings of loss, it would be Wave. Both because he loved her as much as Pang himself did, and because he feels the same sense of guilt at what happened to her. 

They rarely talk about it, but the fact that they were the ones to ask her to go back into the room where they knew a bomb was, the room where she got hurt, is something they’ll both have to live with for the rest of their lives. In that way, no one understands him the same way Wave does. 

“She’s okay by the way,” Wave says, pressing his thigh a little closer to Pang’s, his own version of physical comfort. 

“You texted her ?” Pang asks his boyfriend hopefully, turning towards him, and he sees Wave nod in answer. 

Because they were paranoïd about their phones being tapped and about people finding out Pang had regained his memories, they’ve set a rule that Pang isn’t allowed to contact her directly, not unless he was sending a message through Wave’s secure phone, for both of their safety.

And of course Wave, knowing Pang the way he does, he would have known the only way to ease Pang’s mind a little tonight would be to hear from their friend. Trust his boyfriend to cut right to the root of the issue and find a pragmatic way to fix it.

“You can text her later, if you want. She said she likes her new school, and that she’s met some nice people,” Wave continues, and a little bit of the sadness that had been weighing on Pang for the last hour chips away at the words. 

“Of course, I’m fairly certain they’ll never hold a candle to us, but you can’t have everything. Not everyone is as great as I am,” Wave says with a cocky smirk, and Pang can’t hold the small snort that escapes him in the face of his boyfriend’s arrogance.  

“Thank you,” he says after a second, appreciating the fact that Wave took the time to reach out to her to ease both of their minds, which causes Wave to shrug in response.

“Well, this night certainly turned out differently than I expected.”

There’s no judgement in the words, but Pang still feels guilt and doubt swim at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Do you think I made a mistake telling him all of this instead of forcing him to forget and stay away from us ?” he finally asks the question that has been lingering on his mind all night. 

Wave stays silent for a couple seconds, thinking over his answer, before he turns towards Pang and shrugs again. 

“I think you did what you thought was right,” he ends up answering.

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a mistake though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Wave tells him, direct as ever. “It doesn’t mean it was a mistake either though.”

“If you were me, you would have used my gift to make him forget,” Pang affirms, knowing his boyfriend enough to know it to be the truth. 

“I would have,” he answers back, not denying the words. “But I’m not you.”

Simple as that. 

Because he’s right, it is an answer. In many ways, Wave and him are nothing alike and have very different ways of solving problems, but that was also their strength. That was why they worked so well together to begin with, both when it came to shutting down a corrupt system, and in their personal relationship. 

“I know you think I’m an idiot for trusting him,” Pang continues, and Wave turns towards him and frowns. 

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he replies, and Pang raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Okay, I think you’re an idiot sometimes,” he amends, which makes Pang smile, very used to being an idiot on many subjects when compared with his math and technology genius of a boyfriend. “But I don’t think it’s the case right now.”

Pang nods at his words, thinking them over. If there’s one thing he could trust Wave with, it was brutal honesty, even when it came to things Pang didn’t necessarily want to hear. Knowing that Wave doesn’t think him trusting Time was totally stupid eases his mind a little. 

“It’s just… I truly think he could help,” Pang explains. “I know you think he’s a liability.”

“Oh, he definitely is a liability,” Wave cuts him off. “He’s a naïve idiot, he believes what everyone tells him too easily, and we can’t predict where he’ll go and what he’ll do, which makes him dangerous. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you wouldn’t use your gift on him.”

Of course. Wave is the only one in their group who knows just how scared Pang is of one day turning into someone he doesn’t recognize anymore. Of one day being so power hungry with his ability to control people, that he becomes just like the director, if not worse. 

“Plus… he may turn out to be more useful than I initially thought he would be,” Wave continues, and Pang feels another weight being lifted off of his shoulders. 

“So you don’t blame me for not forcing him away ?” Pang asks in a small voice, and Wave turns towards him again.

“How could I blame you when you being this way is precisely the reason I lo…” he stops mid-sentence and swallows nervously, which makes Pang smile, before he nudges his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. 

He knows Wave won’t finish the sentence, the words being difficult enough for him that he very rarely says them out loud. It doesn’t make it any less true though, and Pang doesn’t need to hear the words to know that he means them with every fiber of his being. 

Seeing the way Wave has changed and opened up since they got together, the way he’s sometimes softer and kinder, while remaining the same Wave that drove him absolutely insane last year, is enough proof for Pang to know exactly how his boyfriend feels. 

“My boyfriend is a softie, I got used to it,” Wave ends up saying with a shrug instead of the words that had started to come out. 

Pang turns towards him and smiles brightly, which he didn’t think would be possible after the evening they’ve had. 

“You convinced him to trust me tonight,” Pang reminds him, remembering the words Wave told Time earlier and how they warmed his heart. 

Trust isn’t an easy thing for Wave to give away, not after everything he’s been through when he was younger. So for him to choose to put his trust in Pang, over and over again… let’s just say the significance isn’t lost on him. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Wave says dismissively with a roll of his eyes, which causes Pang to snort again. 

God, his boyfriend could be so dramatic when he was trying to keep up his cold front. 

“I trusted you, and it turned out pretty well for me,” he continues his thought, prompting Pang to turn towards him, fake outrage written all over his face even as the words warm his heart again.

“Pretty well ? Pretty well ? I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, don’t even try to pretend otherwise,” he teases him, only to stop when Wave turns towards him and looks at him seriously.

“You are,” he says simply, and Pang feels his breath catch in his throat at the words. 

Before he has the time to say anything in response, a grin lights up Wave’s face. 

“What is that Mr.Sermrittirong ? Is that you blushing I’m seeing right in front of my eyes ? What, the king of cheesy lines himself can’t take a little flirting ? I guess I win again,” Wave teases back, cocky smirk in place. 

God, Pang had clearly been a terrible influence on him if this is what Wave uses his newly found confidence in their relationship to do. 

“Are you seriously trying to win at flirting ?” he asks deadpan, which only causes Wave to laugh. 

“Oh, I’m not just trying. I think I’m succeeding. Quite easily actually.”

It’s funny how things change, Pang thinks to himself. How Wave, of all people, had managed to steal his heart when Pang was expecting it the least, and how easily they fit together. 

This boy that can go from being cold and calculating, to cocky, flirty and yet sweet the very next minute. This boy that can be so very arrogant, and yet so insecure at the same time, always keeping Pang on his toes. 

Yet, as Pang looks at his boyfriend now and sees the cocky grin the boy is wearing, he can remember that particular expression from the very first day he met Wave, and the predominant thought in his mind right now, is a very familiar one. He would like nothing more than for Wave to shut up.

Some things do change, but others remain exactly the same. He just has way more enjoyable ways of shutting Wave up now, which he puts to use right this second, pushing forward to kiss Wave and get him to stop talking for a while. 

“Maybe everything with Time will turn out okay and he won’t cause any issues,” Pang ends up saying wistfully a while later, after shutting up Wave for a few good minutes. 

“Oh, he’ll definitely cause us trouble. Mark my words,” he boyfriend negates the thought, and Pang turns towards him. 

“And even knowing that, you don’t blame me for not using my gift on him ?”

Wave bumps their foreheads together before reaching forward to grab Pang’s hand in his. 

“I trust your judgement,” he ends up saying, causing Pang’s heart to beat double time in his chest, before he looks up at his boyfriend gratefully.

“Besides… I kind of have a thing for naïve idiots anyway.”

[disembodiedapparition]

Limerence

Frank groaned in frustration; he needed a cigarette, like right now, but after a quick glance around the pigsty which he affectionately called his room, Frank reckoned he wouldn't be getting one anytime soon. Not that he was addicted or anything — of course not.

He just... wanted one, yeah.

I mean, Frank could totally quit anytime he wanted, it's just that he didn't want to, not yet at least. He was painfully aware of the consequences of his, um, habit, but he didn't really care. If he lived, he lived. If he died, he died. He'd probably kill himself before the drug betrayed his lungs like that anyway, if we're being honest. The ephemeral bliss was worth it.

Finding anything in his room lately had become nothing less than searching for a needle in a haystack, maybe even harder, Frank thought as he agitatedly glared at the offending piles of dirty laundry and cigarette butts (among others) that littered his bedroom floor.

Despite the mess, Frank set out on mission impossible, desperate for his daily fix of nicotine, his head throbbing as the craving intensified. Goddamn it, why were minors banned from buying their own cigarettes? Frank was finding it increasingly difficult to cope with the limited supply of one pack a week that his friend Bob provided him with in return for Bob's completed English homework sheets - especially considering the fact that Frank pretty much lost everything that wasn't physically attached to him on a keyring, or something.

He huffed, glaring at the vermillion and black artwork he'd pinned up on his wall — not by him, of course. He could barely surpass a 5-year-old's art skills — but by his extremely talented boyfriend, Gerard Way; a college dropout/artist/Frank's number one smoking buddy. Frank's mom didn't really approve of Gee's "negative influence" over her only son, but hey, Frank was almost 18 and technically he could do whatever he wanted.

Right? Frank wasn't stupid, he knew what he was doing.

Speaking of the devil; a distinct thud resonated through his room, a sound he'd come to associate with Gerard - seriously, the kid was incapable of using a doorbell or something, he was always flinging rocks at Frank's poor bedroom window. But then again, Gerard usually showed up at Frank's around two in the morning, and he was sure his mother wouldn't be all that pleased when she blearily opened their honeywood front door to find some punk kid smoking a cigarette waiting for her at that ungodly hour.

Another thud echoed through his room, causing Frank to roll his eyes, and mutter an incomprehensible 'I'm coming!' under his breath. He cracked the rusty window open a notch, to see his favorite 22-year-old, clad in black from head to toe (Frank wasn't even surprised anymore) and his messy black head of hair sprawled across his forehead like he'd just ran a marathon through the jungle or some shit.

"Gerard?" he called, though he could clearly see his face thanks to the dim streetlights stationed at regular points on the street. I mean, what else was he supposed to say?

"Yeah, Frank, it's me. Let me in, it's fucking cold out here," Gerard replied, theatrically shivering as if he'd been standing in the middle of the Antarctic, when in reality Frank was certain the temperature was just around basic autumn weather, but whatever.

"It's two in the fucking morning," he said, but opened his window anyway. Gerard climbed the conveniently placed apple tree in the Ieros' backyard, and rolled his grimy body into Frank's room. He smelled of coffee and... well, freshness, if that made sense, at least in comparison to Frank's stuffy bedroom air (the windows were shut because, though it was fall, it still was pretty chilly). Petrichor was the word, if Frank remembered correctly - Gerard had told him once that it meant the scent of the earth just after it rained, that was the same thing, wasn't it?

Gerard dusted himself off, and tiny flakes of fallen autumn leaves crackled off his lint covered sweatshirt and onto the carpet — great, that would be hell to clean up later - but Frank didn't mind much, because at least Gerard was here, right? The newcomer grinned at Frank, as a breath of smoke from a cigarette that Frank hadn't even noticed puffed out from Gerard's pink lips. Which didn't really help with Frank's attempts to survive without one, considering the fact that his inhalation of the substance subsided his migraine significantly, as if his body were physically encouraging him to just fucking smoke already.

"Gee, please tell me you'll let me have a smoke, I haven't had one all day and I'm just — ugh."

Gerard giggled at Frank's flustered request, and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Red and an edgy looking Nirvana lighter before handing it to Frank, who just breathed out in relief.

"Thank you, I love you, fuck," he exclaimed, desperately igniting one of the poison sticks and bringing it to his lips, and sighing as he let the caliginous vapor flow from his mouth.

"You look beatific," Gerard mellifluously laughed, and Frank laughed too, though he didn't know what the fuck Gerard meant by that — perks of dating a guy who majored in English for 3 years, I guess.

He gazed into Gerard's pelagic eyes, appearing lagoon green in the dim light; another thing he loved about Gerard was how his irises seemed to magically change colors depending on the amount of light flashing into them. I mean, totally rad! Added to the whole vampire-esque vibe Gerard gave off, what with his incredibly pale skin tone and blood-red lips, and even changing eye colors - Frank was dating a superhuman, I swear.

Frank's eyes were just a plain dull brown, unfortunately. He honestly didn't know what Gerard saw in him. Not that he was complaining, it's just that Gerard could literally get any homosexual guy in the tiny town of Edison to go out with him, and why he chose Frank of all people puzzled him. He really was nothing special, anyway.

Gerard smiled at the seventeen-year-old, his tiny teeth visible as he made the facial gesture.

"So, Frankie, what do you want to do today?" he energetically asked, making Frank snort - Gerard was literally an owl, personified, because like, it was two in the morning! And he was acting like it was the start of a brand new sunny day, and that they were a couple of adventurers ready to explore the wilderness or something (or maybe the nicotine was just getting to him, yeah, that was probably it).

"I don't know, I'm just hungry," Frank admitted, and Gerard's face lit up.

"The boardwalk! Frank, tonight's even the firework display — it'll be great," Gerard exclaimed, ebullience literally radiating from him, and the idea filled Frank with delirium; he'd never really been to the boardwalk of New Jersey before, his mom had told him it was dangerous and therefore out of bounds. The thought of going anyway was exhilarating, to be honest, so he nodded vigorously, thrilled to be going out on an actual date with his boyfriend.

Gerard cracked his boyfriend's abused window open, cringing as it slowly creaked into the atmosphere, before quietly sneaking out the same way he'd gotten in, so stealthily that Frank was certain that any passerbys would've mistaken him for some kind of petty burglar trying to steal from some teenage kid who lived in the attic of his house.

Frank tried his best to mimic his furtiveness, not that it was plausible that anyone would try to stop them as such, but just because it felt fucking cool. Yeah, they were that extra.

The raven-haired boy shuffled to his black Cadillac (which was all patched up, nearly falling apart to tell the truth) and strung his seatbelt across his chest as it chafed with the fabric of his black Iron Maiden t-shirt. Frank got in next to him, and holy shit, he loved every scent relating to Gerard ever, and his car was no exception - especially considering it radiated a smell you'd associate with buttered toast, or pancakes, and it was the safest smell honestly. Frank felt at home with him, and so happy, nothing even compared to the enthrallment he felt with his boyfriend. Which was kind of pathetic, I suppose, if you consider those self-help speakers who always tell you to 'never let your happiness be dependent on others!', but who cared?

Ah, the art of self-destruction.

He could literally see the exhausted car quivering as Gerard tried to null it into starting up, which may or may not have involved kicking and a few depreciating syllables, but the secondhand vehicle eventually succumbed to Gerard's harassment and the roar of a badly maintained engine resonated through the air, accompanied by a 'fucking finally!' from its driver.

———————————————————————

Frank immediately knew they had arrived at the carnivalesque seashore area, though his eyes were shut tight from the harsh blows of the cold wind; the redolent aromas of popcorn stands, caramel apples, and pizza engulfed his senses, and the chatter of the hundred or so individuals who'd been reckless enough to show up at this hour met his ears. A soft rhapsody floated through the air in uneven waves through a pair of worn speakers, David Bowie, Frank figured. He'd been around Gerard Way for far too long to be unable to recognize one of the singer's songs even from a mile away.

"We're here!" Gerard stated the obvious, smiling like a child. Frank could definitely see how much Gee loved the boardwalk; he'd even dropped his "cool dude" facade and replaced it with the air of a little kid in a toy store, and Frank would definitely be lying if he said it wasn't like, the most adorable thing ever.

They got out of the ancient ebony car, Gerard not even bothering to lock it; if anyone tried to steal it, they'd cause such a ruckus and take so much time to even get the engine running that they'd barely get out of the parking spot before Gerard would show up, yelling obscenities. Penumbras shadowed Gee's features almost surreptitiously, thanks to the shifty luminance of the electric lamps diffusing into the night sky.

They wandered around the various food stalls, stopping at a liquor store, selling interestingly named margaritas and shots, obviously intriguing Gerard.

"Oh my god, Frank, look, they have a kiwi margarita!" the older boy commented, pointing at a neon green brew of alcohol with effervescence bubbling out of it in a teenager's hand. Frank scrunched his nose.

"That looks radioactive," he remarked, widening his eyes, and the latter just rolled his eyes.

"You are so uncultured," he declared, sticking his nose up slightly in the air. "I'll let you know that that beverage is actually forty dollars, definitely a top-notch drink."

"And unaffordable," Frank retorted, empowered with the knowledge that Gee would probably have enough cash to down like, two shots of that, at the very most, and then he'd meet with a very uncomfortable financial situation. He giggled as his boyfriend flipped him off in response.

An iridescent glowing sign flashed the words 'Pencey's Ice Cream' in big, bold, capital letters, immediately attracting the attention of the younger of the duo. Gerard followed the platinum streaked boy's gaze to the sign, rolling his eyes.

"Ice cream?" he sarcastically proposed, and Frank retaliated by punching him in the arm; not that it hurt, Frank was too tiny to cause much damage to the older boy, but just for the sake of it.

Together they strolled into the parlor, which totally gave off a 90's vibe, which Gerard seemed to like — judging by the way he glanced around in fascination at the vermillion and pearl striped borders, and the mint green and cotton candy pink machinery propped against the walls.

A smiling teen greeted them as the door chime jingled, and Frank noted that her name was Jenna, from her rather smudged name tag.

"Hi, what would you guys like today?" she greeted, as the dark-haired boy smiled at Frank.

"What would you like, princess?" Gerard pressed, evoking a fierce blush.

"Uhmmm, coffee walnut," he stated. "No, cookie dough! And um, chocolate sprinkles, and, uhhh... caramel syrup," he concluded, Gerard trying to contain his laughter.

"You're gonna get fat!" he groaned, however Frank just shrugged and watched eagerly as Jenna compiled his rather complicated ice cream order.

"Fat and happy." he retaliated, sticking his tongue out, while Gerard amusedly snorted at his kindergartener-like behavior. Jenna smiled at them, and let them know that they were undoubtedly the cutest couple she'd ever seen, which definitely did not make Frank blush. No way.

Gerard ordered some kind of fancy-sounding cherry jubilee thing, since Gerard was the most extra guy he'd ever met — classy or go home, right? That was probably Gerard's motto in life, considering the theatrics Frank had to put up with every day. Not that he really minded, though.

They held their ineffably good desserts in hand as they made their way to the wooden planks that loosely hung over the ocean water, sitting down. Their dangling legs were centimeters away from getting drenched in the cold icy seawater, and their faces were constantly being sprayed with splashes of salty, burning droplets of the ocean — yet Frank was okay with it. Honestly, Frank was up for anything as long as he had Gerard next to him; they could fucking skydive into the depths of hell, for all he cared. Or maybe that was too dramatic, he thought, before realizing that if it had been humanly possible Gerard would've done it ages ago.

The fiery pits of hell seemed edgy enough for Gerard's taste.

Gerard turned to Frank, a hesitant smile on his face. His lips opened to say something, before he was interrupted by a heart-stopping explosion that filled the air, startling Frank and causing him to jerk his head up in the direction the explosion seemed to come from.

Sparks of envious greens and deep blues flew through the charcoal sky, leaving smoky gray trails as they cascaded into the ocean. Glowing splinters of reds, oranges, purples and yellows followed next, patterning themselves into symmetrical patterns of light. Their iridescent colors illuminated Gerard's face, Frank noticed as he watched a firework explode in the reflection in his boyfriend's fascinated orbs.

Gerard must have been able to feel Frank's gaze, because moments later, he turned to the tattooed boy, his lips giving way to a smile, painted rather endearingly in the pulsating lights.

"They aren't nearly as resplendent as you are," he whispered, and Frank rolled his eyes, internally of course. Gerard loved using words Frank had never heard before in his life, but for now he decided to assume it meant something nice and ignore it.

He connected his cold lips with Gee's warm, welcoming ones, his heartbeat quickening when the latter's arm wrapped around his small waist, pulling him closer. He still tasted like nicotine and alcohol of some kind, he could feel the bitter taste engulfing his mouth, but it evaporated — everything evaporated — when Gee broke contact and whispered breathily in Frank's left ear.

"I'm in love with you."

[tsarinastorm]

Season 7-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

This is mostly a Sackler/Reader centric fic, but this is the development I would have liked to see in a Girls Season 7.

Words:3.9K

Rating: Explicit/Mature

               You haven’t even arrived at this “party” yet and you already regret agreeing to show up. You begin to think of an excuse: you have a migraine, you have a writing deadline, some other dire situation that requires your immediate attention has occurred. Before you’re able to settle on one excuse, you receive a text from Hannah telling you that the party is in the back room of the bar, and saying that she’s so excited that you’re going to meet her friends.

               You had met Hannah in a writing group, the two of you bonded over the shared habit of bringing snacks to the meetings, to the annoyance of the other group members. She was one of your first and only friends in the city. You have some friends from undergrad and grad school who live in the city, but they were often busy with their own careers and love lives. You couldn’t help but find meeting people in this city of 8 million to be overwhelming. Mostly, you didn’t know how you make real friendships with people who you’d only see occasionally, or where to find people who shared your interests and hobbies.

               You moved to the city six months ago and settled into a classic style apartment in Soho. The apartment was a little bigger than you needed but was a steal because it was being sold by a couple who was in the middle of a divorce and wanted to screw the other over. You’ve authored several books ranging from modern fiction, horror, and a crime/thriller series, which had recently been picked up by a streaming service for a television show. You made enough to make it in New York, but you did some ghostwriting on the side to supplement since you invested your earnings in the apartment. You didn’t feel like you belonged in New York yet, perhaps you’ll be always be the same small town girl no matter how long you’re in the city.

You talked yourself into going to the party because you needed more friends and needed to enjoy the city. Plus, it was to celebrate Hannah’s new article being published. As a fellow writer you understood the struggles to get published and the triumph when you finally do get published. So you put on a little black dress that was neither too dressy nor too casual, told her you’d be there in a few minutes, and headed on the train to Brooklyn. You then grab a cab and head towards Hannah’s party.

               Your cab pulls up around the front, and you make your way into the bar. You’ve figured out that if you feel uncomfortable, you can get a few free drinks and then head out, no big deal. There are signs that point towards the Horvath Party, you casually walk, following the signs until you see Hannah in one of the rooms. Hannah waves and motions for you come towards her.

“Hey, Y/N! I’m so happy you could make it! I’m sure you’ll have a great time and I know you’ll get along with my friends.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Hannah. Congrats again on getting your piece published. It’s always worth the work in the end. Where’s Grover?” You ask as you see several people coming up to you and Hannah. Hannah answers as she hugs an excited brunette who just walked in, “Grover is with the sitter tonight. His Mommy needed a break. But I am texting every half-hour to make sure he’s alright.”

“You deserve a night off, I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” You say as the brunette turns to you. Hannah gestures between the two of you and the other girl as she begins the introductions.

“Y/N, this is my friend Shoshanna, or Shosh for short. Shosh, this is Y/N, the friend I told you about from my writing group.”

               Shosh hugs you and says, “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Hannah has told us so much about you and I’ve read you’re books. They’re good, like, really good. I don’t even typically like horror, but I liked yours.”

“Thank you so much! I’ve heard a lot about you too! I love your outfit.”

“The code word is apple for free drinks. But keep it quiet so people don’t take our free drinks. We didn’t pay for everyone.” Hannah adds as she goes to greet another person.

               You and Shosh have spent the last forty-minutes talking about fashion, and travel. Now she was happily giving you the “appropriate” details of her honeymoon. Shosh was super nice and easy to talk to, no wonder she had been friends with Hannah for so long.  When you came back from the bar with your vodka soda, Hannah was talking to another brunette, one less excited than Shosh.

“Marnie, this is Y/N from my writing group. Y/N this is my best friend Marnie.”

“You’re the successful singer/song-writer, right?”

“Yes, only somewhat successful, but yes. By the way, I love your dress, Y/N!”

“I think its super cool that you can sing and put words to music. I have no musical talent whatsoever.”

“Really? You’re such a good writer. How long have you been in the city?”

“Only six months so I’m still figuring it all out.”

“We can totally show you where the best places are, and what to do.” Shosh adds excitedly.

“We should all hang out together sometime. We’re all young, attractive, successful women who should support each other.” Marnie says as she begins telling you the best places to shop, to eat, and to hang out.

“I appreciate it, thank you. I definitely we should hang out. Do you guys ever do brunch?”

“Yeah, I know this place that has the best mimosas.” Marnie says, then Shosh quickly adds, “We should totally go tomorrow morning, you know to help us recover from tonight.”

“Tomorrow would work for me.”

“I’m making the reservation now.” Marnie says while she types into her phone.

“That sounds great, I’m looking forward to it.  Who can turn down a good mimosa,” You say as you notice a very attractive man walk into the room, while the trio of friends continue to chatter amongst themselves. He’s tall with dark, wavy hair and broad shoulders. You immediately lock eyes with him, and smile, he smiles back. You then realize that you’ve totally zoned out of the conversation and finished your drink in record time. So much for playing it cool.

“I need another drink, I’ll be back.”

               ***********************************************************************

               Adam makes his way into the room. He doesn’t know why he’s even there. He and Hannah have been over for some time, and yeah, they were “friends” but why was here when he can’t stand her other friends. He had changed so much since the last time he was subjected to Hannah’s friends, would it be different this time? At least this time, he was free of Jessa that should keep the rest of them from being too hostile. And now, he had a successful run in a production of Machination at St. Anne’s, which lead to the casting director giving him the lead in an adaptation of The Beautiful and The Damned. He had a number of auditions coming up, even a few for Broadway again. He also has a theater friend who wants to turn his short film into a stage play. For the first time in a long time, his life was coming together not falling apart. Except for his love life, as always. He had ended the romantic relationship with Jessa not long after returning to her after being rejected by Hannah. He realized he was looking for something more, something he hadn’t had with Jessa, and something he hadn’t had with Hannah either. But Jessa still comes around, she seems determined not to let him go. So he lets Jessa stay sometimes, because she is a good fuck and he doesn’t have time to find another fuck buddy.

               Then he sees her. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and she looks amazing in that little black dress. Though he’s sure she’d look even better out of that little black dress. Down boy, he thinks to himself, he has to save that for later. But now, be cool. Her eyes lock with his, and she smiles at him. He can’t help but smile back.

“Hey Adam! Good to see you here,” Adam turns and sees the voice behind the comment that takes him out of his trance. It’s Ray and he’s definitely looking at her too. Adam doesn’t like the idea of Ray talking to his woman, or looking at his woman, even if she’s not his woman yet. She will be, he’ll see to that.

“Hey Ray, nice to see you too,” Adam manages to sound normal, not too eager or irritated. He looks for her again, but she’s gone. Oh no, she couldn’t have left yet. Not before he had got her number. He’s so desperate in his search for her, that he doesn’t even notice that Ray’s walked away and Hannah has come up beside him.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Hannah says as she pulls him into an awkward hug. He hugs her back but his eyes still look through the room for his woman. Then he spots her, over at the bar. Now, he just has to get over to her.

“So this is none of my business, but are you and Jessa still a thing?” Of course, Hannah goes straight to the question he doesn’t want to answer, and takes the conversation straight to the person he’d prefer not to think about. He finally answers in the best way he knows how.

“There is no relationship but we still sometimes see each other.”

“You still see each other. I’m not stupid, I know what that means, and it means you still fuck.” Hannah puts her hands on her hips, clearly judging him before continuing, “Does that make you happy? Because believe it or not, you deserve to be happy too.”

               He keeps his eyes on her, his her. Hannah’s talking again before her previous statement has a chance to really sink in.

“By the way, that woman you’re ogling is Y/N, my friend from my writing group. She’s a writer like me. But a very successful one. You should go talk to her. I can’t guarantee that you’re her type, or that she won’t throw her drink on you, but go for it.”

“Really? You sure? She is your friend.” Adam says even though his mind is already made up. He is going to talk to her whether Hannah accepts it or not. But it would be better if Hannah does accept it. He doesn’t want another cold war like the one that happened when he and Jessa hooked up.

“I’m sure. I think she’d be good for you, and that you two might work.” Hannah says and gives him a genuine smile. She then pushes him in the direction of the bar.

                  You order a Malibu Bay Breeze, made up of Malibu rum, cranberry juice, and pineapple juice. Normally that’s the drink you prefer but the vodka soda is slightly better to stave off dehydration and hangover. But now, you feel nervous because you see him make his way towards you and you need the comfort of your favorite drink. He sits down beside you and you turn to look at him.

“Hello, stranger. You know when I’m in a place like this, I can’t help but I feel like I’m in a bad, modern adaptation of a Fitzgerald novel. I’m Y/N”

“Hello beautiful stranger, I’m Adam. I agree, I feel like that at least once a day since I’ve been in New York. But I do find it to be missing Fitzgerald’s wit and introspection. I was worried you managed to sneak out before I got to talk to you.”

“I’m glad you understood the reference, you’d be amazed at the number of people who don’t. Most of them look at me like I have three heads. I’m not going anywhere for a while, I just made my way over to the bar. Do you want a drink? If you’re nice, maybe it’ll even be on me.”

“A seltzer water. I have a degree in comp lit and I’m actor who does mostly stage so I have to understand literary comments. I actually just finished a part in an adaptation of The Beautiful and the Damned”

“Ha, well you know what they say about actors. I’m a writer. Okay, now I have a question: if you could work with any playwright, living or dead, who would it be?” You ask him with a smile on your face. You’re can’t hide your genuine curiosity. He seems like an intellectual guy, well-read, artistic, and clearly a bit offbeat. Those things make you to know his answer.

“Chekhov, he was a truly master of theater. Or Arthur Miller.” He says, confidently taking a swig of his seltzer water, “does that answer suit you?”

“It does. I prefer the Russian greats.  So how do you know Hannah?”

“I’ve known Hannah for years. What about you?” he says the last part in a singsong voice. You can’t help but laugh at his goofy behavior.

“Hannah and I are in the same writing group. She’s one of the first friends I’ve made in the city.”

               You spend the next hour or so (maybe it was longer, you lost track of time) talking about your favorite writers, movies, and awkward moments. Turns out, you have pretty much the same taste in books and film, and you find your eyes tearing up from laughter at some of his stories. His stories are accompanied by full body movements and voice changes, of course. Adam talks about his family, you learn he has a niece that he calls Sample because she’s sample-sized and she was named after his exes. He teases you for being an only child. You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed someone’s company this much. He was interesting, intense, and slightly strange. Nothing at all like your type, and maybe that’s why you liked him. Or maybe it was because you felt he’d give the deep connection and passion you’d always craved. You notice he’s still only drinking seltzer, and you’re on your fourth drink.

“Are you sure you don’t want a real drink? Or are you being a DD?”

“I actually don’t drink. I’ve had a drinking problem in the past so I completely avoid it, and I still go to AA.”

“I’m glad you saw you had a problem and got help. That’s a hard thing to do.” You tell him as you reach out and gently put your hand on his forearm. He looks deep into your eyes, and leans into your touch.

“How long have you been sober?”

“10 years. I started going to AA when I was seventeen.” He says and his rich amber eyes look sad. He looks like he expects you to reject him.

“Well, I’m sorry that it started so early. If you ever need somebody to talk to, here, I’ll give you my number” you say and hold out your hand for his phone. He places it in your hand and he chuckles.

“I am the worst person with technology and shit. I’m not the same over the phone. It took me so fucking long to even get an iphone.”

“That’s okay. You’re probably better off without it anyway.” You smile and he smiles back. He puts his hand on your knee. You notice that 1.) his hand is freaking huge, so that means his dick must be big too, and 2.) You really like him touching you, his hand is hot on your cool skin. You feel a physical spark in your lower stomach that you haven’t felt in a long time: pure sexual attraction. You think you could easily take him home tonight, actually that looks like that’s where this is headed. He leans in towards your face, you can’t tell if he’s going to whisper something in your ear, or if he’s going to kiss you. You feel yourself leaning in, drawn like a moth to the light.

               The moment is ruined when a blonde woman throws her arms around his neck, kisses him on the cheek, and positions herself so she’s practically sitting in his lap. She turns to look at you, and you know you must look shocked because it takes you a minute to acknowledge that she’s even speaking. And you notice that she has a British accent.

“Adam, who’s your friend?” She says in a voice that must be her attempt to be sultry. Adam looks uncomfortable and shifts so she’s no longer in his lap, and he’s not even touching her.

“This is Y/N. She’s an author, a good author who’s wrote bestsellers.”

“I’m Jessa, are you friends with Hannah?” the British blonde asks you and you find her gaze very uncomfortable. You take a sip of your drink before answering.

“Yes, I know her from my writing group.”

“Well then, you should know all about me and Adam. He’s the ex, and I’m the friend who stole him. We’re also the ones who made the movie. I’m sure she’s wrote a lot about us.” Jessa says all of that with a smug smile, clearly proud of the mess she’s just created.

“Oh you’re the Adam? The Adam who moved in another girlfriend while she was in Iowa, who dated her friend, didn’t tell her, and then made a movie basically mocking your relationship?!” You practically yell. What the hell is wrong with these people? Why are they all still around each other?

“That’s him. And that’s us.” Jessa says as she nods. You see red. What they did to Hannah was wrong, and here they are acting like it’s nothing. Jessa’s proud of it. And Adam lied to you about who he was knowing you were a friend of Hannah’s. You had a friend who hooked up with your ex, and it stung. Badly. And that was only a one-time hook up, you could only imagine if it had been a full-fledged relationship.

“Where I come from, you tell people the truth, so I’m going to tell you both the truth. You’re both shitty people for doing that to Hannah and acting like it’s nothing.” You say before grabbing your bag and standing up.

“And I hope I never see either of you again. You must deserve each other.”

               Whatever you had felt towards Adam a few minutes ago had utterly dissipated now. You could never be with someone who did all of that to his ex. If he did it to Hannah, he’d likely do it to you, you remind yourself. Additionally, Hannah was your friend, maybe not a best friend, but still a friend and you refused to do that to her. You storm off from the bar, hopefully to find someone who also thinks this situation makes zero sense. You see Shosh and Marnie standing near the stage and you join them. Marnie speaks first,

“I see you had a great conversation with our local gruesome twosome.”

“That may be one of the most fucked up experiences of my life. Or am I crazy?” You say trying to figure out if you’re over-reacting or not.

“No, that is a totally weird situation.” Shosh says and it makes you feel better.

Then you see a man at the bar who looks familiar, it takes a second for you to recognize him. You can feel the blood run from your face. You realize he’s a guy you hooked up with when you first moved to New York. What was his name? You were so intoxicated that night, you can’t even remember his name, only that it started with a B, and you would have preferred him to remain one of your secrets. Especially when you think of everything that happened a few weeks after the hookup. You watch him even though you don’t want to, and you notice that he is wearing a wedding band. That’s just great. He’s married. You hooked up with a married man, or at the very least he would have had to be engaged then.  You feel your face getting hot, and you go outside to get some air. You bump into Hannah.

“Y/N? Are you alright? You looked really freaked out?”

“Yeah, it’s just I ran into one of my drunk one-night-stands. And he’s married. It just really bothers me.”

“Well, it’s okay. You’ll probably never see him again. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know he was married.” Hannah says while rubbing your arms in an effort to calm you. You give her a hug and you head home.

You see Adam and Jessa in the street fighting about something and you turn your head so you can get away without either of them noticing you.

********************************************************************************

You go to brunch with Hannah, Shosh, and Marnie the next day. You’d been so busy adjusting to the city, you had forgot how much you missed your girlfriends back home. The brunch was just what you needed and you learned some gossip. Hannah says that she has a date coming up. Marnie makes it clear after her track record, she’s happy being single for a while. Shosh, of course, gushes over her husband. You even meet Ray, who owns a local coffee place. However, then you’re filled in on his background with Shosh and Marnie. You were finally feeling like you had now friends in the city, and you were pleased with that. But you couldn’t stop thinking Adam, even though you knew you shouldn’t

You’re back in your apartment, looking for something to do. You then decide to look up Adam Sackler. You scroll through the glowing reviews of his latest plays. Then you come across the movie, Disclosure. You debate whether or not to watch it. You give into your curiosity after a few minutes of debate, and hit play. You watch Adam, the real Adam not an actor playing Adam, spank the actress. Again and again. You should not find it as hot as you do. You can feel yourself getting turned on. You should turn off the movie, and go for a run to clear your mind or a cold shower.

But you give in to your body as your hand sneaks into your pants. Your fingers part your folds before settling on your clit. You begin rubbing in circles. That’s not enough, you need it faster, harder. You start adding more pressure and quicken your pace. You start to imagine that your hands are Adam’s hands. It’s not long before you feel your climax building. You moan as you come hard.

When you come back to reality, you realize that you should feel guilty for touching yourself to a movie starring your friend’s ex-boyfriend about their relationship. However, you manage console yourself by reminding yourself that you can touch yourself as long as you don’t cross the physical line with Adam himself, though you know you’ll dream about him touching you tonight.