#but! sometimes if i take ibuprofen EARLY like when i first feel it starting to hurt

[tealfruit]

ibuprofen my bff ibuprofen

[haleyhunwritess]

hiiii if requests are open can u write one where she has bad period cramps and its seb or bucky taking care of her with like lots of fluff and maybe he teases her for crying at a commercial because shes feeling hormonal cuz of her period but it just ends with a lot of fluff💕

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝

pairing: bucky x reader

warning: period cramps, FLUFFFF

a/n: i woke up with the worst cramps possible and all i wanted was to cuddle with someone but i'm on campus now trying to get some work done :( i wanna post some more period comfort fics, maybe today or tomorrow! i have an old period comfort fic request from @chrisevansdaughter that i'm working on that i can hopefully post soon 💗

"Do you think it's bleeding? It feels like it's bleeding." Bucky groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh please, you're fine." You mumbled from the couch, clutching your lower abdomen while holding your breath as your cramps started to get worse.

This morning you'd woken up to the most painful cramps you've ever experienced. You assumed that they were pre-period cramps, and tried to go back to sleep. However, a few minutes later, you felt Bucky's hand on your shoulder gently shaking you awake. You mumbled five more minutes, before trying to go back to sleep.

"Love, wake up," he whispered, glancing down at the dark stain on the bed, "You're bleeding, doll."

Suddenly awake, you quickly opened your eyes and turned to look down at the crimson stain on the bed. Groaning loudly, you put your head in your hands. You normally got your period on time, though sometimes it could be a day or two late. It was rarely ever early. You weren't supposed to get your period for another 4 days, and yet here it was. You felt embarrassed, but fortunately that feeling didn't last long as your body started to cramp up again. You whimpered loudly, while clutching your stomach and struggling to breathe.

You struggled to sit up, as the cramps were somehow starting to get even worse. Bucky quickly put one arm behind your back, and held your hand in his, to help you sit up. You quietly thanked him before turning your gaze back down to the stain, and cursing silently, "I'm so sorry, bubba, I wasn't supposed to get my period yet. I didn't mean to ruin your sheets."

"Love, I'm not mad at you. You have nothing to be sorry about, it's okay. I'm sorry I had to wake you up but we've gotta get you cleaned up." Bucky kissed your forehead, before getting up and leaving the room.

He came back a few minutes later with some towels, a water bottle, and some ibuprofen. He handed you the ibuprofen first, which you gladly took before washing it down with some water. Then he helped you get up carefully, holding you gently in his arms as he lead you over to the bathroom. He put the towels down on the counter, then walked over to the shower to turn on the hot water.

"Alright, doll. You take as long as you need in there, okay? If you need anything, just shout and I'll come running. I'm just gonna go clean up in the room, okay?" Before you could even protest, he left the bathroom to take the sheets to the laundry.

You stepped out of the shower after a while, already starting to feel a bit better. You noticed Bucky had left a pair of his sweatpants and his favourite hoodie on the counter next to the towels. There was also a bag of supplies on the ground, with different feminine hygiene products, a heating pad, some painkillers you were definitely going to need later, and some other essentials. After drying yourself off with the towel, you got dressed quickly and decided to go check on Bucky.

You found him downstairs in the kitchen, pouring hot water into a cup. Walking over to him, you noticed a familiar sweet smell coming from the kitchen. That's when you noticed a fresh batch of his painfully-delicious pancakes sitting on the counter. You put your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He turned around, and pulled you into his arms gently, being careful not to hug you too tight in case you still have cramps.

You helped him carry the pancakes and the tea over to the living room. You sat down in front of the TV and started flipping through the channels. Bucky picked up your fork, and started feeding you small bites as you settled on what show to watch. Eventually, breakfast was over and you were cuddled up on the couch watching titanic. You've only seen the movie once and you found the ending sad, but you never cry at the ending. Until today. It seemed like your body was determined to make you miserable today as you wiped the tears that were streaming down your face at a fast pace. You hoped Bucky wouldn't notice that you were crying, especially just because of a movie. You glanced over at him and noticed he was straight at you, and trying to stifle a laugh. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't contain his laughter anymore. He got up from the couch, still laughing, as you glared him.

"Screw you, Barnes, it's not funny!" You picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at him, but it only made him laugh harder.

"I'm sorry, love, I couldn't help it!" He chuckled as he picked up the pillow and threw it back on the couch next to you. "I didn't think you were one to cry at movies like that. It wasn't like one glistening tear either, doll, you were nearly sobbing. Don't get me wrong though, it was adorable!"

"You jerk!" You picked up the pillow again and threw it at him but it missed him once again. As he bent over to pick the pillow back up, you picked up the remote this time, and launched it at him. Unfortunately, this time it actually hit him.

"Ow, what the-" He got up, rubbing the back of his head, "That actually hurt, doll, what was that?"

"The remote" You mumbled, trying not to laugh.

He glared at you before bending down to pick up the pillow and throw it back at you. Although he didn't mean to, he threw it pretty hard and it hit your stomach, right as the cramps decided to make a comeback. He quickly apologized and walked over to you to make sure you weren't hurt too bad.

"Just go get me the pain-killers, doofus." You mumbled, laying down sideways, clutching your lower abdomen.

He got up and made his way to the kitchen, still rubbing the spot at the back of his head, the one where you threw the remote at.

"Do you think it's bleeding? It feels like it's bleeding." Bucky groaned, as he continued to rub the back of his head, checking for any blood.

"Oh please, you're fine." You mumbled from the couch, clutching your lower abdomen while holding your breath as your cramps started to get worse.

taglist/moots: @chrisevansdaughter @cherryflavoredchapsticck @livvinitt @marvel1984 @mustacherrylover @babyhatesreality @timidpumpkin @matchat3a @pono-pura-vida @sonalokibarnes @alex-ackerman-11  @ailathealternate @lollabear @buckysugar

[who-is-page]

Hey! (Sorry about the fever, hope it gets better soon) Read something you were mentioning about your own phantom limbs responding to painkillers and PT, and I was wondering, do you have any advice/suggestions on that front for other folks who get some degree of pain/tension apparently stored in phantom parts? S especially has that happen some, even though neither of us have 24/7 phantoms, and we've tried things like "attempting to back-calculate what muscles/spots on our human body feel like they correspond Closely Enough to the phantoms for work on those spots to help the phantom pain", but it's definitely a challenge sometimes. (For me, it's more often stuff where I can just...stretch my phantom wings, if they're aching, and it'll help loosen everything up, but for him it seems to get more 'stuck') Best wishes, L+S

Thanks for well-wishes, I am in misery but am thankfully on the upswing. Sorry it took a little while to respond to this; we got started on mobile, but then mobile Tumblr wouldn't let us continue to edit the draft when we paused to get more medication. :') Functioning app.

For us, treatment depends on the type of phantom limb pain, and the severity. Phantom pains for us tend to come in three types:

Spasms: The phantom is twitching and flailing uncontrollably, and painfully. It might also "hit" people or objects around it, which can cause further brain freak-outs. It's exhausting to deal with.

Cramps: The phantom has retracted against the body tightly and painfully, and cannot be moved or adjusted. It's stiff, it hurts like a spring wound too tight with a muscle, and it hurts double to try and force it to readjust. Like spasms, it's hugely tiring.

Aches: The phantom just aches and hurts, plain and simple.

We also get generalized discomfort, tension, and itchiness. Some people in our system are more prone to different types of pains than others. Noel most often gets severe aches along her phantom scars, for example, while I tend to end up more often dealing with cramps and occasionally spasms.

Here are some of the forms of treatment we use, how much they help us, and what types of pain they usually help with:

Medication: This is in reference to anti-inflammatory and pain reducing medication like ibuprofen. It works best on specifically aches, although it can also help to relieve some of the pain caused by cramps and spasms. This is the easiest and first line of defense-- if we can feel the pain starting up or know that something is beginning to trigger it, taking this early is a good move. Unfortunately, its effectiveness isn't perfect. It will never relieve all of the pain, it just dampens it, and some days it works better than others.

Prosthetics: This is in reference to using prosthetics that line up with and match our phantom body parts to some degree. Having a partner or ourselves gently interact with the prosthetic, especially if we can see it visibly or in a mirror, can relieve a lot of tension we've found, but usually isn't fantastic with handling outright pain just because of the limbs we typically find to be painful. We're still experimenting with this one, because we only discovered it about a year or two ago. We've found that having a prosthetic is great because we can interact with it and our brain will fully believe that we're physically interacting with our phantom limbs and will register it as such. It's like putting ice water on a fire. It's the biggest relief.

Touch: This one usually requires another person to work. It works well with all three kinds of pain depending on the type of touch, and on our lucky days can sometimes resolve the issues entirely. Having a friend or partner put pressure on the effected area, or gently stroke or massage, can sometimes convince your phantom muscles to unwind or hurt less, just like physical aches and pains. We usually use pressure for the aches; massages for the cramps; and gentle strokes for the spasms.

Stretches and Movement: This one is pretty hugely hit-or-miss, and only usually works on aches to help relieve some of the pain. Gently stretching the phantom in tandem with our physical body in slow, steady movements can sometimes help it stop hurting. We've found that it's important not to go too fast or do too much, because that will make the pain increase. We usually do arm and back stretches for wing aches (I might draw it out), leg stretches for tail aches (rare, but they've happened before).

Heat: This can be in reference to a hot compress, a hot shower, an electric blanket, anything that generates a notable amount of heat. It typically only works with our cramps and aches, not spasms, but sometimes it can resolve the issue entirely. The idea is simple: wherever on your body is connected to the painful limb, apply heat and try your best to relax.

Breathing Exercises and Meditation: Probably the most unreliable of the list for us where it rarely, if ever, works, but we personally know quite a few other people who vouch for this. It's exactly what it says on the tin-- you sit, calm yourself, and do breathing exercises. Or you sit and try to meditate. Our ADHD makes this one extremely hard and impractical, but it might be worth a whirl for other folks.

General Exercise: This is referring to light exercises, just enough to get our blood pumping, because we're disabled and our body can't handle too much. It only really helps with cramps, and only cramps of a very low severity, but sometimes it's enough to make them go away entirely. For this, lifting and taking walks are our preferred exercises, based on what we like to do.

System Shenanigans: We're part of a system with a mindscape and can interact with one another within it. Sometimes we can get pain to alleviate or lessen by interacting with the pained limb in the mindscape. We've shoved Noel into a hot spring for her phantom scar pain before, for instance. This one is a pretty big coin flip though, because sometimes it just doesn't work and I really don't understand the rules or why or how.

Obviously YMMV when trying any of these out, but you're more than welcome to mix-and-match or adjust as needed to suit your personal needs. We also always heavily encourage making sure to rule-out or treat physical causes that might be inadvertently causing or increasing what your brain is translating as phantom pain too-- things like back issues, etc. In our experiences, phantoms can and are affected by parallel physical issues. They're not neatly separated in our brains, because our brains recognize the sensations from both and wires can easily get swapped and crossed; our electric meat machines are just doing their best with the input they've got.

We're having that issue right now, as we type! Because we're so sick with the fever, our whole physical body and our entire phantom body are wracked with pain. So sometimes treatment and prevention is multi-layered and a balancing act.

I hope this helped, and I hope it made sense. We're still pretty sick, so if there's anything here that you need clarification on because we went off on a tangent or just weren't clear in what we meant, just reblog and let us know and we'll try to explain it better when we're feeling less like death.

[polyghostfacehours]

So I'm seeing a lot of poly! Billy and Stu with a reader, but I'm daring you to give me headcanons on what it would be like for reader to be poly with Stu and Randy instead to mix things up a bit. Plus I'm genuinely curious.

HOOOO. Let me tell ya, when I saw this in my inbox I got e x c i t e d. I love unique requests like this, what an interesting concept! Let me take a crack at it!

So, I personally hc Randy as straight and monogamous, but for the sake of this I'll go with a hc I've seen for Randy before that I really like which is Pan!Randy (who is also poly)!

Stu x Reader x Randy

So first off, for this ever to happen, you'd have to be dating one of them first. There's no way they'd agree to be in a poly relationship with each other otherwise.

This is because their relationship is strained at best. Stu may be a bi disaster, but he never even would consider Randy otherwise.

And while Randy always thought Stu was cute, his personality left a looot to be desired in Randy's eyes. Not worth it lmao.

Stu would be up for it far earlier than Randy would, but it would still take time to get Stu on board.

You'd need to bring them together as friends first. Find a way to make them bond first. Invite them together for movie nights, go out with them whenever you can get Stu away from Billy. See what other like minded ways they could bond other than horror.

Eventually, over time, Stu will mellow out around Randy, teasing him a lot less cruelly and more affectionately. And Randy will slowly get off of Stu's case as he starts to genuinely feel friendship grow.

Then, after realizing they both have feelings for you and each other you'd have to gently let them know you're polyamorous and could make the three of you work.

Stu would take it much easier, even be into it, but Randy might be pissed at first. He'd have the typical hesitancy and reasoning most people have for not being in a poly relationship.

If he agrees the three of you are an absolute chaotic trio.

Stu hangs off of you like he always has, but he now does so to Randy as well. Randy is super annoyed with it at first, getting flustered and uncomfortable. You'd have to tell Stu to not smother Randy.

Randy's iconic colored socks and colored shoes combos grow on Stu. Stu's always had a pretty decent fashion sense, and he helps Randy find accessories that fit his style. He also encourages Randy to not wear such boring ass shirts. Eventually Randy develops a more suave look due to his own style and Stu's influence combined.

The banter. Is. Never. Ending. You better get used to petty arguments, because Randy and Stu will neeeeever stop. If Billy happens to be hanging with you guys too? Hooo boy, grab your ibuprofen.

Obviously, Randy is now no longer considered to be a part of their plan. Stu would go absolutely ballistic if Billy shot Randy the way he did in the original. Instead, Stu makes sure Randy drinks waaaay more than he did, so that he's passed completely out while Halloween played.

Sometimes, you and Stu would wait until late at night to visit Randy during his shifts at the video store. When he's all alone and ready to close, you two drag him to the back room ;)

Stu pressures Randy into letting him get new releases early and Randy let's him because he loves Stu but "fuck man I cant keep doing this >:("

Randy gets flustered at you and Stu's affection. He'd never been in a relationship before, so having two people show him love in such a way? Man gets beet red.

You or Stu are the more dominant person in the relationship. You usually in general relationship stuff, but Stu usually in bed. Randy is an absolute sub dont @ me.

Overall it's a lot more of a wholesome relationship than poly ghostface is. There's still that darker more animalistic part that comes from Stu's end, but because Randy is a normal, non-murdery guy, it's a lot more conventional in general.

[glimmerglanger]

ok i gotta ask how ben and cody’s bed broke, if there’s a story there. maybe through improper use of a lasso? 😏 (ok for public)

adiduck asked:

ANd I reTURN with another HotR snippet prompt--that once again you don't have to write if it doesn't strike your fancy, friend XD. I can't help but notice that Ben and Cody replaced Cody's twin bed. Anything of a story there?

WELL, you see, there was...kind of an accident. Which you can see in this snippet, ahaha. This is Codywan, not safe for wizards, SPICY, and, well, there's a mention of an injury. Nothing incredibly severe, but, still, an injury.

~~~~~~~~~

In the end, Cody blamed himself for what happened.

He was, after all, fully aware that his bed was more than twenty years old. And that it had been, in all likelihood, not designed to regularly hold two grown men, even for sleep, much less the varied other uses they put it to.

In his defense, he barely worried about any of that, especially not when he and Ben managed to snag enough time to do something besides sleep in his bed. He wasn’t thinking about worn out wood or weight limits, not with Ben pressed against his mattress, groaning and flushed so pretty all over his shoulders.

Cody’d been a bit unsure about bringing, well, roping into their bedroom, but couldn’t argue with the results. There was something deeply appealing about Ben’s arms caught together, crossed over his back and tied in place, about the way he squirmed, about the way his eyes got so dark even as he bit at his lip.

Cody had just adjusted his grip on Ben’s hips, fucking into him, when the bed creaked the first time with the shifting of his weight. And he thought nothing about it - the bed creaked all the time, these days - far more distracted by the way Ben stuttered out his name, by the feel of him, by the need to draw out more of those sounds, shifting higher up onto his knees, muscles flexing in his back and--

The second time the bed creaked it was followed immediately by a snap. And, after that, everything happened at once.

Ben made a sharp, startled sound even as the left side of the bed - where the crack had come from - gave. The side of the mattress just dropped, all at once, tipping the entire thing onto an angle.

Cody didn’t waste any time swearing. He’d had a lot of experience falling in his life. Sometimes it felt like half of riding was learning how to fall properly, in the way least likely to lead to injury. He knew, even as they both lurched sideways, that he could push away and, likely, get off without even a scrape.

He didn’t even attempt it.

Because Ben had never trained to fall well and was, currently, facedown on his knees on the bed, arms tied behind his back and, more than that, Cody was still inside him and pulling out suddenly would hurt him and--

Cody jerked an arm around Ben’s chest as the bed gave, yanking him up hard, getting Ben’s head clear of the corner of the nightstand a second before it would have hit, trying to get a leg out to brace on the floor, ending up tangled in the blankets and--

“Fuck,” Cody panted out, a moment late, after they both hit the floor with a bang, his bed tilted at an ugly angle beside them. He couldn’t see much of the damage. The blankets had pulled off with them, hiding whatever had happened to the frame.

He shifted, carefully, and found nothing ached too much. His shoulder and knee had taken some of the brunt of the fall, but most of it had, probably, come down on Ben, despite his efforts to prevent it.

It had seemed most important, in the moment, to make sure that Ben didn’t crack his head open on the dresser. Besides, Ben had, well. Taken all of his weight before. But...

“Hey, you okay?” Cody asked, shifting a little, realizing, even as he asked, that he had a pretty good idea what the answer was. Because Ben was stiff beneath him, breathing fast and shallow, all the color run out of his face, blinking his eyes rapidly. “Fuck,” Cody repeated, cosidering the best way to move forward, “what hurts, what���s--”

“I’m fine,” Ben rasped out, even as Cody carefully eased out of him, getting a muffled groan at the movement. “I’m--” The sound he made was all misery, hitching, and Cody swore under his breath, feeling cold all over as he reached for the knots he’s put around Ben’s arms.

He didn’t see any blood, but that didn’t mean much. If Ben had broken something, he’d--

Ben curled onto his side as soon as his arms were free, balling up while Cody knelt over him, unsure where to touch or what to do, all concerns about his busted bed set aside as he asked, “What happened? What’s wrong? Ben, come on, talk to me.”

Ben shook his head, just a little, and said, croaking, “I’m fine. I just - ah - I think I - I may have - ha, landed on my dick.”

Cody froze, considering that with a twist of second-hand pain that made him feel nauseous. Ben hadn’t come, before the bed fell, which meant if he’d landed on it… and Cody’s weight had come down on top of him, too, and-- “Holy shit,” Cody said, shifting to try to get a look, “holy shit, do I need to - take you to a hospital? Do--”

Ben made a rough little sound, reaching out and grabbing Cody’s arm, panting out, “No! No I can’t - go to the hospital for a - for a sex accident.”

Cody felt like he was hovering, sitting on his bedroom floor, his bed in absolute ruins, Ben talking about sex accidents. “But,” he started, unsure how to even treat a sex injury. He’d never had one before.

“But nothing,” Ben said, tightening his grip on Cody’s arm. “I’m - fine. I just need a moment. That’s all.”

Cody petted at his hair, gut still aching with imagined agony, and said, “I could...get some ice? Or ibuprofen? Aspirin? I don’t…” He looked around the ruin of his room, swallowed, and said, “I’m really sorry, Ben.”

Ben shook his head again and panted out, “Not your fault. Just, ah, just let me get my breath.”

“Sure. Take as much time as you need.” Cody stroked a hand over his head again, heart rate finally starting to slow down, wondering if he could get up early enough to drag the broken bed out without anyone else seeing with a wince.

[midnghtcities]

better with you

you’re not well. harry wants to make you feel better. word count: 2.3k

(A/N: i’ll admit, this one is pretty self-indulgent. endometriosis affects an estimated 1 in 10 women during their reproductive years, which is approximately 176 million women in the world (source) and i personally know of many women who struggle to have their pain heard. i hate having to put on a brave face when it feels like the inside of my uterus is on fire. so this one is for the people who have to push through the pain especially when no one is there to take care of you!!!)

/ read on wattpad /

It always started low in your belly. Sometimes a flutter or an uncomfortable prickle, other times more sharp, like someone was sweeping the tip of a knife across your abdomen. But you knew what it meant, things weren’t going to be looking so good in the coming hours.

You were always a meticulous planner, you had to be. You always knew roughly when you would be alright to make plans, or when you would be better off staying at home. But when Harry waltzed into your life a few weeks ago, that ideal went out the window. From that first initial coffee and walk around Hyde Park, you craved more and more time with Harry. He was enigmatic, so bright and warm that you worried saying no to hanging out with him would mean he would disappear and take with him that new-found sunshine you had just gotten used to basking in. 

So you knew you could be playing a risky game when Harry texted you, requesting your company for dinner. It had been a busy week for you at work meaning you both hadn’t had much time for each other so you said yes without even thinking. It wasn’t until you looked at your calendar that you realised you probably should have come up with some excuse to say no. But the thought of being with Harry, hearing his honey-like drawl and feeling the warmth of his hand on your waist or back - or potentially somewhere lower - was too hard to resist. Surely it would be fine.

You carefully laid your cutlery down next to the plate of ravioli you were half-way through eating, trying to discern whether this was just a fleeting moment of pain or something more sinister. It was always hard to tell at first and the immediate feeling of panic that accompanied never helped with this determination.

“You okay?” a somewhat concerned voice broke your focus.

You looked up, realising that you had been staring quite fixedly at your plate of food. Harry was sitting across from you, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. In any other moment, you would feel that bubbly thrill rush over knowing that Harry was staring so intently. You still found yourself wondering at times why he was interested in you, but after your fifth date you were starting to believe that maybe it was possible for someone like Harry to be interested in a girl like you. But now, as you sat with a lump in your throat and a cold sheen forming over your body, you wished you were anywhere but here.

You cleared your throat, “Uh, yeah, all good. I just have to go to the bathroom.” You stood up carefully, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Harry sounded very worried now.

“Yeah, yeah,” you tried to morph your face into what felt like a carefree expression, but you knew Harry could see right through you. You quickly turned away and made your way to the restroom before he could question further.

With the bathroom door safely locked, you faced yourself in the mirror’s reflection. Your face had taken on an almost unsightly pallor and there was a beginning layer of perspiration across your brow. You grabbed a hand towel to dab your face dry when a flash of pain ripped across your abdomen. You doubled over, biting hard on your lip to keep any groans of discomfort inside. It was clear that your monthly pain had decided to make an early appearance.

Painful periods were something you always had to deal with. The past year though, each one seemed to be worse than the last. Days had been taken off of work, plans had been cancelled, and you had begun to find yourself becoming a ball of nerves whenever that time of month rolled around. Maybe this period you would be huddled around the toilet bowl for hours on end. Or unable to even get out of bed. What if you were out somewhere alone and suddenly couldn’t walk anymore because being upright hurt too much? You didn’t want to take your chances, so more often than not you would ensure you were at home when you knew you needed to be. This was all before Harry though.

The thought of Harry caused you to perk up a little. The pain had subsided slightly, to more of a dull ache. You took the opportunity to quickly rummage in your bag and down two ibuprofen, something you had begun to always carry. You knew it would be a futile attempt at combating the pain, but you figured it was better than nothing. Three deep breaths later, you carefully walked back out to Harry.

His gaze was fixed on his phone, his left thumb and index finger gripping his bottom lip in what you could only take as an action of restlessness. It looked as though he hadn’t touched his risotto since you had left. As you approached, he looked up. “Are you alright?”

“I’m really sorry,” your voice was shaky. You gripped the back of the chair you had previously occupied, willing yourself to get it together. “I think I need to go home, I’m starting to feel like rubbish.”

Concern flooded Harry’s face, his eyes darting up and down to further assess your appearance. You forced yourself to stand up straighter as though this would portray that you are fine. “Is it the food?” he questioned, looking at his own plate apprehensively.

“No, no. It’s just… I get pain sometimes.”

He looked confused. You weren’t one to broadcast your misgivings, so you knew Harry would be slightly shocked to hear of your chronic condition. “Let me get the bill then,” he stood up whilst motioning for a waiter’s attention. 

“No, please finish your dinner!”

“What?” he looked at you incredulously, “I’m not going to just let you leave alone when you’re clearly not feeling well.”

As you were about to retort, a spasm of hurt ricocheted across your belly leaving you only able to suck in a sharp breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt your fingers tighten against the back of the chair. Mere seconds later you felt a comforting warmth envelop you along with the barely-there scent of spice and vanilla -- it was Harry. He had wrapped his arms around you carefully, his right hand pulling your face into his chest.

“What’s going on?” Harry said quietly, trying his best to hide how frantic he was really feeling.

You let go of the chair and gripped onto Harry’s arm, gladly accepting the comforting gesture. It was almost uncanny how the pain seemed to dissipate quickly as you stood there enfolded in Harry.

“Excuse me sir,” you felt Harry’s head turn as a voice intruded upon them, “is everything alright?” It was the waiter that Harry had flagged down.

“I’m sorry, could we just grab the bill please? My partner isn’t feeling too well all of the sudden.”

You blinked your eyes open and carefully pulled out of Harry’s embrace. You had almost forgotten you both were standing in the middle of a restaurant. The waiter had already bustled off to get the bill.

“Hey,” Harry grabbed your hand, giving a gentle squeeze, “are you okay?”

You did your best to plaster on a smile and feign indifference but judging from Harry’s stony gaze there was no point in even pretending that you were alright. “Right now it’s slightly better, but the pain will be back no doubt.”

He nodded once and quickly collected his coat from his chair and phone off of the table. The waiter had returned and before you could even reach for your wallet, Harry had already tapped his card and began leading you out of the restaurant, his arm wrapping around your waist once more. “The Uber should be here in five minutes.”

You could barely voice your thanks when another wave of pain rolled on through, leaving nothing but shaky breaths and clenched fists in its wake. Harry’s arm tightened around you, and you gladly leaned into him as you focused on willing the pain away.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry spoke up a few beats later.

You pulled your head away from his chest, meeting his concerned gaze. “Why are you apologising?”

“I shouldn’t have made dinner tonight seem like such a big deal. I know we haven’t seen each other this week but I didn’t want you to feel pressure to come out even if you’re unwell.”

“I promise I felt fine when I said yes. In fact, I felt completely fine up until 20 minutes ago. It’s just how this thing goes sometimes.”

He looked a little confused.

“It’s… It’s my period,” you continued on hoping to answer the questions that were probably already forming in his mind, “I always get pain around the time of my period. And during as well. It is a little earlier this time though.”

“I have a sister, I’ve never seen her in pain like this though,” he said, eyebrows furrowed.

You just shrugged, wincing slightly as another jab of pain pierced your abdomen.

Harry didn’t question the issue further, instead he turned to rubbing circles against your lower back. But you could tell he was thinking intently. A few minutes later, he spotted the Uber and you both got in. Harry insisted on you scooting over to the middle of the backseat so that he could keep his arm secured around you. It was almost like he was never going to let you go now, and you don’t think you had any issue with that.

You kept your eyes closed the whole car ride, letting the sway of the car lull you into a stupor. A low thrum of pain was present the whole time but at least it didn’t flare up. You knew the less you moved, the better it felt.

“We’re here,” Harry said quietly after some time.

Eyes blinking open, you realised he was right. Harry guided you out of the car and up the steps to your flat. His eyes stayed intensely locked on you as you fished the keys out of your bag. It was hard to mask the intense ache the movements caused but you didn’t want Harry to worry more than he already was.

“Thank you so much for helping me,” you said once inside.

“Don’t thank me yet. Let’s get you into bed. Do you have a hot water bottle? Ibuprofen in the kitchen?”

Your mouth gaped slightly. “Harry, it’s fine. I’ll be alright now.”

He stared back at you slightly incredulously. “Have you seen yourself right now? You can barely stand upright. Just getting your key in the door was an effort and a half. Let me take care of you.”

You felt your eyes prickle with tears, you had forgotten what it was like to have someone want to take care of you. The past year you had battled through the pain alone, you hadn’t realised the simple act of someone offering to make you a hot water bottle would feel so good. 

After telling Harry where to find everything, you gingerly walked down the hall to your room. You changed into your comfiest pair of sweats and eased yourself onto your bed. This definitely wasn’t the worst pain you had been in - no throwing up or collapsing to be seen thank god - but it was enough to make doing the simplest tasks a chore. 

Harry crept in a few minutes later, a mug of steaming tea in one hand and the hot water bottle tucked under his other arm. You graciously accepted the bottle, pressing it against your stomach. A sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“Do you mind?” Harry asked, motioning to the space available next to you.

“Please.”

He stripped off his coat and slipped out of his boots before climbing in carefully beside you. You adjusted your position so that your head lay comfortably against his chest and he could easily cradle your side. The contact seemed to melt the pain away instantly.

“Do you think you have endometriosis?” Harry spoke up a few minutes later.

You hummed in confusion, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I did some quick research in the car. Your symptoms sound like it could be that. Have you ever gone to a doctor to check it out?”

“They just told me to take pain relief. It’s really hard to diagnose, like, you need surgery. I think if it’s not heavily impacting your life then you just have to deal with it.”

“What?” Harry said in a shocked tone. “It’s clearly impacting! You looked like you were going to pass out in that restaurant. Let’s make an appointment in the morning, I’m going with you… If that’s okay with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. How many people had brushed off your pain like you were crazy and here was Harry, researching and wanting to book doctors appointments after an hour. “Come here,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I want to kiss you, you idiot. You have to lean down though, I don’t want to move too much.”

His previously concerned face gave way to a dimple-filled grin as he gladly followed your request. Your lips met, moving in sync immediately. You could tell Harry was being conservative, obviously worried to push things too far, but you were just happy to have him.

“You know,” he said once you both broke apart, “you can buy this little machine that uses electric currents to your nerves and it’s meant to help with the pain.”

“How much research did you do in that car ride?” you said whilst chuckling.

“I was worried!”

You gave him a soft smile, “Thank you. But I think for now I’ll stick with the water bottle. And your cuddles.”

“Are they helping?” Harry said, giving you a squeeze.

“They are. I feel much better with you.” 

The pain did seem to be at bay and for once that accompanying feeling of dread didn’t seem to be eating you up from inside out. For once it felt like you were going to get through this and you would be okay.

[asphalt-cocktail]

Hear me out..kay?

'70s John Lennon with younger female home assistant reader getting into a lil dispute because John thinks he let himself go after the Beatles broke up, but the reader believes otherwise and it ends up in the two of them having passionate/slightly rough sex because he's more or so angry with himself than anything? And the two of them are really close too, like John allows her to watch Julian and Sean when he's at the studio or on business trips?? And the two boys genuinely like her???

(a universe where he isn't married to yoko ((no hate intended)) and is single and happy that way..)

Oh my god, I love this idea! 70s john is so pretty. I love how he looks as he gets older. it’s like fine wine. Some of the ages might not add up but we’ll call this an AU for the sake of consistency!

Warnings: Some smudges of angst, smut, insecurities, language

Also it got WAY longe than I expected so i got a little carried away. 

As John slept, he dreamt he sat perched on a throne made bones. It overlooked a high cliff that faced the ocean where the wind burned his face and he could hear seagulls screaming in the background.

He was alone. For once he wished he had the screaming crowds and bandmates calling his name. But only the shrieking gulls filled his ears.

The dream seemed to go on for two lifetimes and the atmosphere felt staticky as the waves repeatedly crashed against the shores and hit the rocks. At times he could feel the soft kiss of saltwater sprinkling against his face.

He blinked for the first time in what felt like ages and suddenly his throne of bones began to collapse, he grasped at them panicked as he desperately tried to prevent himself from falling. Just as his footing slipped John shot up in his bed breathing heavily. He blinked to clear the bleariness that had settled from sleep and palmed his bedside table for his glasses and crudely wiped them on his sheets to clear the fingerprints before slipping them on. 

Suddenly the room was clear, and the sound of gulls was replaced with Sean’s squealing laughter. It helped John feel grounded in his brief moment of panic. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Christ, what did he have to do today again? John ran his fingers through is knotted hair and slipped out of his bed. Right, he had to do several interviews to promote his new album and single that was just released then he had a dinner party. He grimaced at the thought of having to sit for several hours with a group of yuppies and pretend to enjoy their conversation.

As John walked through is bedroom he slipped on a pair of slippers and his dressing gown before stopping in front of his full length mirror. He gave his belly a firm pat, he’d lost a significant amount of weight in the last five years, mostly from depression, but it was still a small victory in his eyes. Atleast he had that going for him.

The bedroom door open and John found himself lured to the kitchen by the smell of syrup and pancakes. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, “You’re early.” He greeted you.

You shrugged your shoulders, not looking up from the batter as you poured it into the skillet, “I know I thought my exam was going to take much longer than it did.” You said sheepishly. John had been gracious enough to accept you as his assistant and sometimes nanny. He was nice and the job helped you learn a lot about public relations and management, which is what you had hoped to do after you’d graduated from university. 

“Do you want some pancakes? Sean helped with them.” You said waving the ladle towards John.

He shrugged, still groggy from sleep. He really didn’t want any, but the way Sean stared at him with his big black eyes begging changed his mind. He sighed after his idle moment in thought and nodded his head, “I suppose I should see what the little chief has made for us.” He smiled and ruffled the kid’s hair.

After breakfast John rushed to get ready, “And you’re okay with taking Julian to piano lessons? Remember Sean still needs to finish that cough medicine from his cold earlier last week, and they can’t stay up past-” he rushed out his of things that he now only worried about due to having children.

You placed your hand on John’s arm and gave him a look, “John I’ve worked with you for almost three years, I think I can handle a day of babysitting. Julian will get to piano lesson on time and Sean will get his medicine; and don’t worry I won’t give them any sugar past 6pm.” John chose to ignore the little wink you gave Julian and Sean from the other side of the room.

He let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed, “I know, I just” Worry I’m not good enough, his intrusive thoughts echoed in his mind and he shook his head before sharply inhaling, “I just worry about them, you know how it is.” You didn’t, you weren’t a parent. But you understood a little bit with where he was coming from.

You gave John a sympathetic nod and patted his shoulder, “Go on, you’re going to be late for the interview.” You said and turned him, pushing him towards the door.

A small smile settled on John’s face, it didn’t matter if he left for 8 hours or a full week, he still gave you the same reminders and the same list when Yoko or Cynthia couldn’t take the kids. John rushed out the door and you turned towards the boys and grinned at them. They were both nice, Julian had a wee bit of an attitude, but you chocked it up to him being in double digits while Sean was a curious and surprisingly even-tempered boy.

You made sure Julian got to and from piano lessons okay and wrestled with Sean to take the last dose of his medication, bribing him with some cookies. The remainder of the afternoon and evening you watched a movie with them, walked in the park, and drew pictures of the cats.

At lunch time John called to check in on the boys and to let you know it was going to be a late night, after reassuring him everything was fine you resumed your conversation with Sean about some fabulous story he was making up.

John sat at the dinner party, poking at his food and listening to his scientist friend tell them about a fancy new machine they got at work. The autoclave used immense amounts of heat and pressure to sterilize items, nothing survived the autoclave. In that moment John decided he saw some of his own likeness in the machine. As the voices turned to mumbles and John fell deep into thought he found that his own heart was harsh an inhospitable, much like the machine. That was why he was mostly alone in his 17-room apartment in New York City. His two wives couldn’t even make his home their home, and when he received a phone call from Cynthia or Yoko saying they were coming to pick the children up or to send them home on the morrows next fight he couldn’t say it struck him by surprise.

As the evening grew late you put Sean to bed and then an hour later you sent Sean to bed, much to your surprise neither of the boys fought with you tonight over why it was unfair they had different bedtimes or how they should be allowed to stay up later because it was summertime.

Infomercials from the television droned in your ears and lulled you to sleep as you sprawled out on the couch. A hand touching your shoulder caused you to jump and you blinked before John came into focus, “I’m home, you can stay the night in the guest room. It’s too late for you to go home alone.” He said kindly.

You rubbed your eyes and groggily sat up, “How did the meetings go today?” You asked after a deep yawn.

John’s face scrunched up, the way it did when he was frustrated and deep in thought, “It was alright.” He shrugged.

“What do you mean alright? You just released a new single, no one had an opinion on it?” You asked as you made your way through one of the many long hallways that made up his Dakota apartment.

John followed you, hoping for conversation and company, “I don’t know, I must have termites in me brain or something.” He frowned leaning against the door of the bathroom and watching you rummage through the cabinet for your spare toothbrush. Your movements moved on memory and you pushed aside the antacids and ibuprofen to get to the toothbrush you kept in the back of the medicine cabinet. The familiarity in your actions made John feel comforted.

“what do you mean?” You asked before you began brushing your teeth. You watched as John shifted, leaning against the door jam. He felt uncomfortable. You could tell.

He looked away from you, “I’m washed up I suppose.” He dug his shoe into the grout of the bathroom tile, “No one wants to listen to a former Beatle without the other three.” John wanted to open up to you but his body felt like an unstable bag of foam and bones and his ability to speak clearly vanished.

You spat out your toothpaste and wiped the remainder off with the towel that hung on the wall, “Oh come off it,” You scolded him, “You don’t mean that do you?”

Now it was your turn to follow John as he walked through the house, kicking his shoes off and tossing his jacket to the side, “That’s how it seems.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Every time I talk to one of these hokey television people, they just rub it in me face how successful Paul or George are doing.” He frowned, “And I’m just sitting here, a one hit wonder. No songs in the last five years.” He tugged open the door to his wardrobe and pulled out sleeping cloths and tossed them onto the bed, “Paul’s got his 87 children, and his new better band. What do I have?” His cheeks started turning red and his thick brows furrowed.

You listened to him complain about his imperfections, he obviously needed to get them off his chest, “John,” You said softly interrupting his monologue, “You don’t mean that.” You bluntly said.

John looked away from you and huffed loudly, “First I get called the fat Beatle, then I get torn to shreds for saying one thing about Christianity and now I can’t even write a damn song anymore.” He angrily pulled his shirt over his head, “If I can’t even write a damn song what use am I?” He continued to mumble to himself and tug the thin and worn sleep shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the hole.

You walked forward and boldly grabbed John’s wrist as he reached for his lounge pants, “Stop it,” You said in the same tone of voice you used to scold one of the children, “I don’t want to hear you say bad things about yourself that aren’t true.” Your brows knit together as John turned to look at you.

His eyes narrowed to little slits as he studied your face. John felt as though the throne of fame he once sat upon was now crumbling, much like in his dream “You’re just an assistant, you don’t know anything.” He said coldly and shrugged you off.

You know he didn’t mean it, but the words stung, “Yeah, I’m just your assistant who watches your kids, and takes them to piano lessons, and does your laundry, and brings you take away when you are too sad to leave your room.” You shot back.

Your words hit John like a 10-ton truck, and he looked at you shocked, none of his assistants had ever been this bold before. They all cowered beneath the mighty John Lennon, but you were different. Your tongue was just as sharp as his, and he hated to admit it; but he liked the way your brows furrowed, and your eyes ignited with fire every time you argued back at him. He wanted to get a rise out of you, so he pushed you, “I pay you for it, don’t go around thinking you’re special. I could post your job in the paper and have hundreds of college kids lining up to work for me.” He hissed stepping towards you.

You were backed into a wall, literally and figuratively, you felt at a loss for words. John was right and you both knew it, what was the worst that could happen if you pushed back a bit? “Do it, I dare you.” You scoffed and moved to push past him, “Surprised anyone would like to work for a washed-up Beatle.” You mumbled under your breath knowing that he would hear you.

John brought his arm up and pushed you back into your spot between the wall and pushed his lips against yours. It was hard and messy; your teeth clicked together, and your noses knocked. It took a moment for you to realize what was happening until John roughly shoved his knee between your legs. You let out a whimper feeling him pull away and start leaving hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and trailing down to your neck. Your chest heaved against him and you swallowed thickly, and you desperately tried to focus as he continued to latch onto your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, “John.” You whined and ground yourself against his thigh.

He loved how you practically purred his name as you spoke. John’s hands pushed down on your hips, helping you as you slid against his thigh with wanton need. Your breathy sighs sent a shiver that crept down his spine and settled in his belly, “We can stop, just say it and I’ll stop.” He said rubbing his nose along your jaw.

You swallowed thickly, “Please don’t,” You didn’t want to go back now.

John pulled away and pulled you by your wrist before pushing you back onto the bed. You bounced back against the plush large mattress and laid against the pillows and watched as John knelt between your legs. He rubbed his hands along your thighs and kissed you’re the skin that had become exposed from your shirt riding up and pushed it up more. He sucked and left kitten licks as he exposed more of you stomach and chest, kissing between your breasts and sucking at the soft skin on the sides.

John peeled your shirt off and in one swift movement your breasts were exposed and your top and underclothes tossed aside. He dove against your neck again, deepening the marks he’d already left prior and adding new ones, nipping at the skin and inhaling your scent. You reached your fingers and laced them in his soft long hair. You’d always wondered how it felt and how it smelt. You found yourself burying your nose into the side of his head and breathing deeply. He smelled like stale smoke, the gum he always chewed as a nervous habit, and like his eucalyptus shampoo. It made your brain feel dizzy.

Your legs wrapped around John’s narrow hips and pulled him flush against you. He groaned feeling your heat against his awakening erection and ground against you. he felt like he was 18 again, sneaking home some blurry faced bird through the back door at Mimi’s after coming home too late. But this felt better, it wasn’t some random company for the night; it was you.

The assistant he hired on a whim because he needed someone to watch Sean while he flew to LA for recording, the same person who folded his laundry, the first person he told of his divorce from Yoko. Even in his dream as he stood alone on the edge of the cliff as his throne collapsed, he knew if he called your name you would come.

Now, here he was; swallowing your moans eagerly in his mouth and listening as you left ragged breathy gasps in his ear as he ground against you. His hands fumbled with the buttons on your pants before he finally gave up and pulled them open, the small button popping off and bouncing to the other side of the room. John kissed your hips and along the lower half of your stomach and it twitched.

You squirmed, looking down and seeing his intently focused face as he yanked down your underwear and jeans and carelessly tossed them aside. You suddenly became aware of your nakedness as you stared down at John, fully clothed in a loose sleep shirt and the pants he wore today. Your eyes trailed his body and you sat up, tugging at his shirt. Your movements were hesitant and less confident than his. John’s hands guided his shirt up and he tugged it off, throwing it to join the rest of your discarded cloths and you ran a hand along his chest. Admiring the freckles and imperfections that made him distinctly human. He pulled back and shrugged his pants off and resumed his spot between your legs, pushing you back down.

John kissed the sides of your knees and made his way up your thighs, “Is this okay?” He murmured.

You shivered feeling his lips moving against your legs and nodded your head, urging him to continue. The pit of nervousness that settled in your belly violently vanished as you felt John’s hot tongue swipe between your folds and lap at you, “Jesus Christ,” You gasped out.

You could feel John smirk as he hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you close. He spread you apart, groaning and rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Has anyone ever done this to you before?” He asked glancing up at you.

You swallowed thickly and shook your head, “N-no,” You choked out.

John hummed acknowledging your answer and licked at your core again, taking his time to trace lazy shapes around the bundle of nerves. It sent a tingle that rang through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to your fingers and you desperately reached for John’s hair to keep him in place.

Your toes curled and you pressed John’s face closer against you and bucked your hips, grinding against his face. He groaned and pressed back, pulling you closer against his face. The plug between your brain and mouth disconnected and your mind felt like it was swimming. The string in your stomach tightened as you continued to grind against John’s tongue as he lapped at you. Your soft breathy sighs climbed in pitch before it snapped and your hips squirmed against him. John firmly held you down and he harshly rubbed your clit. The burning sensation caused your toes to curl, your eyes to blissfully shut, and made your legs shake. Your hips tried to jerk away from his hand, but he held you down, watching you writhe, jaw hanging slightly ajar.

“St-op” You choked out and gripped his wrist, letting out a sob as he pushed you to your peak once again. Your chest heaved and your legs shook as it washed through you. You curled into yourself and your face scrunched up.

John left you no room to breathe as he pulled your face close to his and captured your mouth in an open mouth. His tongue explored your mouth and you could taste yourself. You gripped at his forearms and pulled him back down, thumbing his briefs and tugging them down. John smiled against your mouth as he wiggled out of them, twisting his legs and shifting before he finally gave up and broke your kiss for a moment to tug them the rest of the way down.

You reached to kiss him and frowned as he pulled away, settling between your legs and rubbing his cock teasingly between your wet folds before he pushed in. You gasped, feeling John stretch you as his pelvis pushed against the back of your legs. He sat there for a moment and his face reached up and cupped yours as he hovered just inches away from your face.

You brought your hand up and placed it on John’s, his thumb traced your bottom lip and he slowly moved his hip, pushing deep inside you. Your mouth fell open and you let out a soft moan. John eagerly took the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth and pushed harder into you as your lips wrapped around it.

John’s hands gripped your hips as his picked-up speed, pulling them against him and making your skin slap together. He fell over you and you wrapped your arms around him pulling his body close to yours. His head fell next to your shoulder and he messily kissed up your shoulder and up to the side of your mouth before you captured his. Your kiss lacked tact and was only motivated by wanton need for each other. Your teeth clanked harshly together, and you clung to John as though he would vanish from you in an instant.

John broke the kiss and latched onto your neck once again, nipping at the skin and leaving a lingering and dull pain as he continued his trail before settling near your ear. John’s grunts and soft breathy sighs were perhaps the best sound’s you’d ever heard. In that moment you didn’t care that your bodies stuck together with sweat, or that your head kept bumping against the headboard.

You found yourself reaching for John and whimpering as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees and brought them up, leaning onto you and pushing deeper inside you. Your back arched off the mattress as he pulled back and began to slowly rut deep inside you.

John clenched his teeth together and hissed, feeling your walls twitching around him as he continued his languid pace, “Please,” You said softly, your brows knit together and your eyes looking helplessly up at him.

His lips spread into a knowing smirk, “Please what?” His voice sounded ragged and strained as he continued to tease you.

“More please,” You barely recognized the whiny tone of your voice.

“Yeah?” He asked and harshly snapped his hips against yours, “Like that?” He asked snapping them again. The headboard lightly tapped the wall as John’s thrusts grew harder and faster while your staccato moans followed jointly. John watched you, your mouth hanging open and skin shiny from the combination of his and your sweat that coated your body. He felt more human in this moment than he’d felt in a long time.

John’s brows knit together, and his thighs clenched, he didn’t want this to end. You pulled his arms and pulled him close to you, not caring if it seemed like you were being clingy, “Come inside me,” You breathed out next to his ear.

John’s body seized up and he huffed out a shaky haggard breath before he came, holding you close against his body and riding out the high that fogged over his senses.

For a moment he laid on top of you, softening inside you but enjoying the intimate closeness the two of you shared in your post coital haze. John kissed your shoulder before pulling back and kissing your lips. He pulled back and the two of you smiled at each other.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You couldn’t help but turn your head and breath out a small laugh before John rolled over to your side. The two of you laid on top of his wrinkled duvet staring at each other. You pursed your lips and remembered what you said earlier, “I didn’t mean it, what I said.” You said sheepishly looking away.

John’s expression was soft as he looked at you, “I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it either.” He said his arm now resting on your shoulder. He pulled you against his bare chest and you pushed your knee between his legs, entangling your bodies together as John held you. 

[ravenluvsppnbc]

BECHLOE WEEK- DAY TWO

today’s prompt was, “one bed” so here’s this. please enjoy. also on ao3 :)

“Beca Mitchell groaned. Her phone screen brightened her whole room. It displayed a time as early as… she couldn’t even come up with a snarky analogy. It was so early. She looked at the ceiling and heard nothing. The house was always so quiet at this hour, and she’d be one to judge. During her sophomore year at Barden, they decided to buy a house for the group. Beca chose the bedroom in the basement, due to her reclusive tendencies. She sometimes cursed herself for this choice, as she could hear everything from there—people walking around, whenever the toilet flushed or the shower was turned on. Some of the vents even led to the basement, but that meant Beca got great gossip.

She starred for minutes that felt like hours, until finally deciding that she was thirsty. She pursed her lips, shutting her eyes as she let out a deep sigh. There was water on the floor. Ew. She rushed to the light. It felt like she was swimming. Gross. She was immediately repulsed by the sight—maybe two inches of water covering the floor of the basement. 

“Shit.” She mumbled, trying to quietly move some of her stuff. She piled her laptop, cords, headphones, and books onto her bed, in attempt to stop the water from getting to them. She gathered some keepsakes, though she wasn’t super sentimental, and threw them onto the pile.

She didn’t realize the noise she must’ve been making. Quite a ruckus, actually. She didn’t hear the basement door open, but she found herself shocked when a sleepy Chloe started walking through the water. “Ew. What happened?” Chloe asked, entering Beca’s bedroom which now looked more like a pool.

“The storm last night. The water thing, must’ve not been working.” Beca mumbles, remembering the thunderstorm that put her to sleep a few hours ago.

“Do you want me to help you get your stuff?” Chloe asked, tiptoeing over to Beca.

“Um. I think I got most of it. Most of this shit,” Beca whispered, pointing to the items and clothes that were still on the floor or in the water, “Will probably dry eventually.”

“Oh! Does this mean fun-Beca-Chloe-sleepover-time?!” Chloe said, jumping up and down. The water splashed them both, which made Chloe giggle.

“Gonna be a long ass sleepover.” Beca mumbled, realizing that the basement would take a few weeks to be fixed. Chloe had no problem with this, of course. Chloe had a massive crush on the younger brunette. Everyone knew this, including Beca, who may have thought it was a joke for the group. But it definitely wasn’t a joke.

“Oh this is gonna be so fun!” Chloe exclaimed, pulling Beca up the basement stairs. “We can do each other’s nails and eat popcorn! Oh! And gossip!”

“Chloe. Sorry to interrupt your teenage fantasy but it is four in the morning. Sleepover shit happens tomorrow. I need sleep.” Beca says as they enter Chloe’s bedroom.

“Oh sorry. Definitely. But you can’t avoid it tomorrow. Here, you can sleep on this side.” Chloe whispered, trying not to wake the others. Beca looked around the room. It was painted a shade of navy blue that screamed ‘Chloe.’ The bedsheets had little flowers on them, and the wall beside Chloe’s bed had a few little butterflies taped to the wall. Chloe’s room matched her perfectly. Pretty, positive.

Beca pulled the covers up, and then over herself as she slid into the bed. Chloe flicked the light off, and followed Beca into the bed. She laid still as Beca fumbled with the blankets, tossing and turning. That first night was weird, for both of the girls. Beca, faced the wall. She was awkward, but appreciative.

Chloe didn’t know what to do. The girl beside her kept her awake. Just thinking. Chloe couldn’t help but imagine being with the girl, not just in presence, but being with as in ‘together.’ She always tried to snap herself out of these thoughts, but now, with the girl she desired so close to her, she couldn’t. She desperately wanted to curl up next to the other girl, or comb her fingers through her shiny hair. But she was conflicted. Beca didn’t seem in the mood. Maybe Beca didn’t like that kind of attention. Chloe was still trying to figure Beca out, but she couldn’t. Nobody could. Chloe decided, after what felt like hours of contemplating, that Beca wasn’t into her. Her face sunk as she let out a sigh. 

The second night was just as weird. 

The third night, as Chloe would say, was when things got interesting. Beca had come home late, when Chloe was already in bed. But she immediately became energized when Beca entered her bedroom—not just because the light had been flicked on, but also because Beca was almost in tears. It had not been a good day. 

Beca explained that there really hadn’t been a particular reason why. “Sometimes you just wake up and you exist, and then the day sucks. And you can’t snap out of it.” Chloe immediately knew what Beca meant. Some days just kill you for existing. 

“I’m sorry you exist, but a lot of people would be upset if you didn’t.” Chloe whispered, attempting to comfort the other girl. They both start laughing, despite the late hour. 

“Thanks.” Beca says, moving onto the bed. “It’s just been a weird day. I woke up. All good. I leave the house. All good. I got a major headache after my first class. Still have that-”

“Oh. Still headache?” Chloe exclaimed, jumping out of bed. She ran for her bathroom, grabbing the ibuprofen from the cabinet. “Here. Okay continue.”

“Thanks,” Beca mumbled, swallowing the pills as Chloe began to massage her shoulders. “Oh my gosh. That’s so nice. You must have nice hands. That was weird, I’m sorry. So anyways-”

Chloe blushed at the comment, but brushed it off, still listening about Beca’s shitty day.

“And that’s when it hit me that the day was just really not gonna be good. Like I can’t come back from spilling coffee on my pants. I looked like I pissed myself until they dried.” Beca explained, causing an eruption of laughter from Chloe.

After a much needed massage and conversation about bad days, Beca was finally feeling better. She changed out of coffee pants and into a pair of Chloe’s pajamas, which consisted of a huge t-shirt with the phrase, “ACA-AWESOME” on it, and a pair of shorts.

Chloe was a little touchy that night. Beca had a bad day, cuddles were definitely in order. Shockingly to both of them, Beca wasn’t repulsed by the action. Beca usually wasn’t a fan of affection or touching, but it made her feel better.  

The night after, Chloe only draped an arm across Beca’s back. Beca found herself strangely disappointed by the lack of affection.

So. On the sixth night, Beca slept in the middle of the bed. 

The seventh night, Chloe kissed her. She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t keep this to herself any longer. It was dark and quiet. Chloe had just turned out the light, when she leaned over to Beca’s side of the bed.

Beca felt butterflies, like the ones on the wall behind her, fluttering in her stomach as Chloe’s chaste lips hit hers. It was a quick peck. Chloe pulled away, looking for a repulsed expression, listening for a scoff. But she couldn’t see, and Beca didn’t make a sound. Until she did.

“Could you do that again?” Beca asked, resting her head onto her hand. 

“Again?”

“Yes. I believe there was a kiss between us a moment ago, and I’d like that to happen again.”

“You are so weird. But I’d also really like it to happen again.” Chloe said, flipping the light back on. It happens again, only this time, Beca pulls Chloe closer.

“Just to be clear,” Chloe states in between kisses, “This is not, I’m straight and I sometimes kiss girls, right? This is an, I like you, kiss?”

“This is the, I like you, kiss, babe.” Beca says, chuckling.

“Babe?” Chloe says, chuckling at the nickname.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Beca says, giggling, before falling asleep in Chloe’s arms.”

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of amy having a bad day and struggling with mac? say he’s very clingy or also upset

Guess what, this accidentally turned into a fic too. And it kinda shifted into 'Jake and Amy having a bad day and struggling with Mac for very different reasons'... I hope you still like it!

(read it on AO3)

It had become evident pretty early on that when Mac got sick, he gravitated towards Amy much more. Sure, Jake was also sometimes good for snotty cuddles and cough-soothing baths, but at some point he would call for his mom, or whine and spread his arms towards her with his legs kicking in frustration, and it said a lot about how much Jake has grown that he didn't even hesitate to hand him over without acting hurt. Maybe the blissful calm washing over Mac's face as soon as Amy was hugging him helped with that, too. It was such a wonderful thing to see after hours of crying, coughing, sneezing, whining and general sad pouting that only a Peralta-baby is capable of, Jake barely had the energy to worry about how it felt to be so blatantly rejected by his little boy.

It'd also become evident that Mac’s clingy phase had started a bit earlier than most of their parenting books prophesied. If Amy was home, he wanted to be on her lap, or in her arms, or wrapping his little arms around her leg as she tried to work in the kitchen. Jake got “NO!”ed and waved away far more often than he was asked for a hug himself, and again, it took a lot of newfound maturity not to let that get to him - and maybe he did not have enough of that yet, because it absolutely got to him in quieter moments.

(He knew it’d pass, like any phase in a toddler’s life passes at some point. Like the phase of Mac refusing anything but that one specific carrot puree passed, or the phase of him being unable to sleep anywhere except cuddled in between them, waking up as soon as they tried to carry him back to his own bed.)

The real trouble starts when both these situations collide.

-*-

Mac woke them up at 4:30 sharp, two hours before Amy’s first alarm, crying so hard it almost sounded like screaming. When Jake tiptoed into the nursery, he had to ignore the frustrated shouts of Nonono and Mamam that he was almost used to by now, to actually check what was wrong. Probably another ear infection, he realised after seeing the symptoms they’d become very familiar with during the last time they’d battled through one of those. They had to bring him to the doctor to be sure, but he already knew they were looking forward to at least two days of unsoothable crying and fussing.

He also knew that things would be hell for Amy.

In theory, it would make far more sense for him to call in sick to take care of Mac. As much as he loved his detective work, the simple fact that his wife outranked him (and thus outdid him in both salary and responsibilities, obviously) meant that if one of them had to take a few days off, it should be him first and foremost. In practice, however, Mac was going to be even more insufferable than just from his sickness if left alone with him at the moment. He was still crying for Amy as Jake lifted him out of the cot - he would be screaming bloody murder if she closed the door of the apartment behind her.

“Earache?” Amy asked already as Jake stepped back into the bedroom, Mac’s wailing lessening only slightly as he stretched his arms out toward her. She pulled him to her as Jake sighed and nodded.

“I think so. I’ll take him to the doc when they open.” He tried to offer, but he knew Amy would refuse it anyway.

“No, I can do it. I’ll call in sick - you get back to sleep for work.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed again as he dropped onto his back while Amy was sitting up to sway Mac, who’d actually quieted down into little sobs and sniffles in her arms. “I’m sorry, Ames.”

“It’s nobody’s fault he’s sick, especially not yours.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could help more. If he wasn’t- you know.”

“I know.” Amy let her free hand not holding Mac drift through Jake’s sleep-messy curls. She knew that, as much as he tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, he secretly hated the thought of his son rejecting him in any way, even if it was as nonsensical as a clingy toddler phase.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to actually fall back asleep with her hand in his hair, and she carefully wiggled out of bed to let him rest while settling down with a still crying Mac in his nursery rocking chair.

-*-

They got to get ready together as they usually did in the morning, at least - even if Amy was only getting dressed to drive to the pediatrician and straight back again. She’d already called Holt and explained the situation before Jake handed her a mug of coffee, and Mac had been, at the least, not crying for the last ten minutes while sitting in his playpen in the living room. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as last time.

“I can pick up whatever the doc prescribes on my lunch break.” Jake smiled at her, ruefully, and she considered telling him again that it was okay, that she could do it - but something told her to keep her options of at least a few minutes not alone with a sick toddler open.

She desperately needed that option when lunchtime came around.

Doctor Maurice had quickly confirmed their suspicions and told her that there wasn’t much more they could do than wait it out, keep an eye on his fever and medicate with ibuprofen and warm compresses. Not that any of that had helped. When Mac wasn’t crying, he was screaming, and when he wasn’t screaming, he wanted to be close to her, but he couldn’t lie down without the pain getting worse, so simply plonking down on the couch with him was out of the question. She’d let him breastfeed far more than had been their norm now that he was slowly getting weaned, because it seemed to give him some relief at least, as well as quieting him for a blissful moment. But then the infection had travelled to his stomach as well, the same way it had last time, and he staunchly refused any and all food or milk. She’d seriously started considering foregoing the diapers completely and just letting him play in the empty bathtub so she could rinse him off from time to time, because five dirty diapers in under twenty minutes had to be some sort of new record.

So when Jake texted her he was on his way, with a picture of another box of ibuprofen and that herbal steam-bath mix that had helped last time, she sent a silent thank you prayer to anyone who wanted to listen. And she mumbled a not quite as silent thank you against Jake’s lips before he could even get his shoes off at the door.

“I got you one of the good bagel sandwiches for lunch, too.” He said as he hugged her and combed through her messy hair.

“I love you so much.” She hadn’t even realised that the only thing in her stomach so far was still the cup of coffee he’d made her this morning.

He grinned as he put the deli paper bag on the kitchen counter and went over to Mac’s playpen, to say hello to a currently only softly whining toddler smacking an innocent teddy against a pile of soft fabric blocks. Amy followed to wrap her arms around his waist from behind and rest her head against his back, taking in a few deep breaths of Jake, of something that didn’t smell of diarrhea, moist compresses, milk-hiccups and spit up.

“Also Holt gave me an hour for lunch, so if you want to take a nap or something-”

“God.” Amy groaned with pure happiness as Jake turned around in her embrace. “Marry me, Mr. Perfect.”

“Any place, any time, babe.” He kissed the crown of her head while returning her hug, sniffing her hair with a chuckle. “But maybe a shower first before the big day.”

“Rude.” Amy mumbled with her face pressed against his chest. “I rescind the proposal.”

His chuckle turned into a laugh at that, and he slowly unraveled her arms around him. “Nap first, then shower, how’s that sound? Then a bagel. I’ll give Mac his lunch.”

“Good luck with that.” She sighed before giving him another quick kiss and making a beeline for the bedroom.

-*-

She’d hopped straight from bed into the bathroom later, relishing in the feeling of the hot water washing away any aches left over after that much needed nap. Alas, when she stepped out of the oh-so-peaceful bathroom, she was met with a wall of sound.

Mac was wailing, hard, as Jake swayed him back and forth, holding another warm compress against his little ear, and trying to make soothing noises despite the shrill screams of No and MAMA! straight into his face.

“Shsshhshsh, hey, it’s okay, bud, it’s okay. I know you don’t like me much at the moment, but it’s gonna be okay, and mom is coming back soon-”

He stopped as he noticed her stepping into the room, giving her an apologetic smile as she took Mac from him. The wailing turned into regular crying at least, albeit still loud.

“I’m sorry babe - did he wake you up? He won’t eat either.”

“I set an alarm, actually. So you won’t be back late.” Amy sat down on the couch and pulled up her shirt (freshly changed after the shower, and god had that felt good as well). Mac latched onto her breast almost immediately, and a wonderful quiet settled across the room, only his little snuffling and suckling noises breaking through.

Jake’s face was unreadable before he turned towards the kitchen to plate her bagel, but that stoic, almost empty expression told her enough anyway. She grabbed his wrist as he set the plate down on the couch table, pulled softly until he sat down next to her, running her fingers through his hair again to comfort him.

“You know it’s not true, right?”

“Hm?” Jake looked up at her after watching Mac, who finally seemed to calm down completely in her arm, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“It’s not true that he doesn’t like you. He loves you just as much as me. It’s just a difficult phase.”

“I know that.” Jake’s attempt at a smile was still sad enough, and she wiped across the corner of it with the soft tip of her thumb.

“And I love you too. So much.”

“I know that.” And this new smile seemed to turn out right, at least. “You wanna re-marry me, after all.” He teased as he leant his head against her shoulder, looking down at Mac again with a much less forlorn expression.

“Hey, I rescinded that proposal!” She quipped back, falling into their usual banter easily now that she was rested enough and sure that Jake felt better as well. “But I might consider re-re-proposing again if you promise to pick up Polish for dinner.”

“I knew you only wanted me for all the free food delivery.”

“I also need you for other things.” Amy said as she sat up a bit straighter to finish Mac’s feeding, Jake’s head lifting off of her shoulder with the movement. “Like burping your kid. I really don’t want spit-up down this fresh shirt.”

“Aye aye, Sergeant.” Jake joked, already scrabbling for the burp cloth thrown over the armchair next to them and taking Mac out of her arms.

She watched him as he expertly settled the little, squirming bundle against his chest, the swaying and patting motion almost second nature by now, ducking his head down for a quick sniff of that perfect toddler hair scent. He’d have to leave for the precinct soon enough, and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the afternoon probably being a reprise of her entire morning, and she didn’t even want to think about the night or next day to come.

Life with a toddler was unpredictable. Almost nothing was in her control anymore. But, as she’d learned over the years, as long as she was with the right people, she could handle anything. And Jake Peralta proved, again and again, that he was the right person for her.

[goldnratio]

Bad Days and Back Rubs (MGG x reader)

Warnings: uhhhh none unless you count periods and the products needed to handle it, unedited writing

Word Count: 1,576

A/N: lots of italics and idk why. sorry this took longer than expected oops! also I hope u don’t mind I switched up the request a bit :) and reader has a uterus and I tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible. pls enjoy!!

—

When you woke up in the morning, you were almost surprised to have started your period. Granted, you kept a somewhat accurate track of your cycle with an app, but this time around, you had little to no PMS symptoms. Thinking your first day wouldn’t be so bad, you decide not to call in sick to work.

“Baby, why don’t you just stay home?” Matthew asked, wrapping his arms around your torso as you were getting ready in your shared bathroom.

“Because, Matthew, I have work to finish, and if I don’t get it done soon you know my manager will be the first to complain.”

Matthew spun you around to face him and gave you a sympathetic look. “C’mon, (Y/N), we both know your first day is always the worst—“ he brushed a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear— “we can just stay home and watch whatever you want.”

You really wanted to give in to his offer, considering Matthew hardly got enough time at home in between all of his filming. But you knew you had to go to work.

“As tempting as that sounds, my love, the answer is still no. Besides, the cramps aren’t so bad right now,” you said.

Matthew sighed. “Alright, but if you don’t feel good, then just come home okay?”

“I know, I’ll let you know. But I swear, I feel fine for it being my first day on my period!”

—

When you got to work, you started to feel slight back pain and cramps, but they weren’t so bad and you quickly brushed the discomfort off. You spent a while like that, with some odd cramps here and there. Nothing a couple ibuprofen pills couldn’t handle.

During your break when your pain began to increase. While you waited for your tea to heat up in the break room, you figure you should tell Matthew you’ll possibly leave work early.

To Gube💍🧸💖

10:15am

hey baby, might go home early. my cramps are getting a little worse :(

You were starting to wish you’d just stayed home with your boyfriend. Cuddling on the warm couch, watching romantic comedies that would probably make you cry, eating anything that satisfies your cravings.

The sound of your phone’s text tone pulled you out of your thoughts.

From Gube💍🧸💖

10:16am

oh I’m sorry love :( I’m out running errands but I should be home in a few hours, just call me if you want to go home. Love you❤️

To Gube💍🧸💖

10:16am

I think I can handle it for a couple more hours but ok, love u too💞💞

Luckily the ibuprofen kicked in fast, so your pain was dealt with. However, your manager was really starting to get on your nerves, she just kept micromanaging you. Needless to say, it was irritating.

Lunch time came around and the painkillers began to wear off. Not wanting to deal with the period pains and being hungry, you head out to your car and call Matthew.

“Hi, pumpkin, how are you feeling?”

You groan.

“I don’t know, my manager is annoying me and my cramps are coming back— hold on, let me put you on speaker because I’m about to go grab something to eat.”

“On your lunch break?”

“Yeah, I can’t tell if I’m in the mood for Chinese food or pizza.”

“How about you get Chinese for lunch, and we can get pizza for dinner,” Matthew suggested.

“Hmm, that sounds like a genius idea, baby. Let me call you back though, I’m pulling up to the restaurant.”

You’d considered yourself lucky to have a job so close to a shopping center with several food options. Sometimes you walked to get food with a coworker, but walking there and back to work wasn’t happening today, much less with someone else.

“Okay. I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Matthew. Byeeee.”

Once you have your food and you’ve arrived back to work, you spend the rest of your lunch on the phone with Matthew as you peacefully eat your lunch in the car.

About an hour after your lunch break, you felt your cramps coming back. Only now they felt ten times worse than what you felt earlier, and your desk chair did nothing to help the sharp ache in your lower back. Instead of taking more pain medication, you take another bathroom break, and immediately wish you’d just stayed home.

You didn’t notice you used the last of your menstrual products earlier, and forgot to pack more. You check the dispensers in the bathroom, and thank the stars, the little meter still reads ‘full.’ Sighing in relief, you push the button for the feminine product.

Nothing falls.

You push the button again, still nothing.

Please don’t let it be jammed.

You tried jostling the dispenser, smacking the sides, pushing the different buttons. No luck.

“Great, this is just what I need right now,” you mumble to yourself.

With the cramps and back pain becoming borderline unbearable and your unsuccessful attempts with the product dispenser, you feel tears building up in your eyes. Rather than start bawling over not having your menstrual products, you quickly compose yourself and weigh your options.

I can either ask someone if I can have one of their stash or just go home…Home it is.

As you make your way to your manager’s office, you text Matthew letting him know you’re going home.

It took going back and forth with your manager for almost ten minutes, for her to finally agree to let you take the rest of the day off.

Once you’re out of the office, you notice Matthew hasn’t text you back, so you decide to call him. When he doesn’t pick up, your only choice is leaving a voicemail.

‘Hey, uh, it's me. Figured I’d call you since I’m leaving work early. Sooo yeah, I’ll see you in a bit. Love you, bye.’

It’s a quick drive home, mostly because by some miracle you’re only hitting green lights and there isn’t much traffic around two o’clock on a weekday.

Unlocking the front door, you take off your shoes and toss your bag and keys onto the coffee table.

“Hey, Gube! I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!”

He’s by the stove, about to take off his apron to greet you, but you just wrap your arms around his torso and nuzzle into his chest. “Smells good. Hi.” You look up at Matthew, and he tilts his head towards you to kiss you.

“Hi to you too, (Y/N). How you feelin’, pumpkin?”

“Mmm, tired and in pain.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He keeps you in his arms, swaying a bit, and presses his lips to your temple. “How was work?”

“Ugh, you were right. I should’ve just stayed home.”

Matthew chuckled, “that bad, huh?”

“I mean, actual work was okay, but my day could’ve been better,” you sigh, “it’s just that everything was hurting so much that I wanted to go home, and my manager was being difficult about letting me leave. How was your day?”

“Fine, most of it was spent at the store buying groceries,” Matthew says, “and things for you.” He ‘boops’ your nose, and you smile.

“Speaking of groceries, what’d you make?” you ask, suddenly curious as to what the delicious smells in the kitchen are.

“Well,” Matthew said, and spun you around to see, “I’m making you hot chocolate, some tea for later that should help with your cramps, and there’s a pizza in the oven for when you’re hungry. And I restocked on your favorite snacks.”

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You playfully ask.

“Only about a thousand times.”

“Then let’s make it a thousand and one times, because I love you sooo much.”

You flash your boyfriend a smile before pulling him in for a kiss. A few moments later, a cramp hits you, and you groan into Matthew’s mouth. He pulls away, but just enough for your foreheads to still touch.

“More cramps?” He softly asks.

“Yeah, any chance that tea’s ready?”

“Of course, baby. Why don’t you go change into something comfortable, pick a movie, and I’ll bring over the tea and some snacks.”

You give Matthew a quick peck on his cheek before leaving the kitchen. “Sounds like a plan, you’re the best.”

After you’ve changed and used the bathroom, you spot Matthew holding a hot water bottle and the remote control. “You ready?”

Halfway through the movie, with your tea and most of the snacks finished, you’re hit with another wave of pain and tiredness. You sit up and climb into Matthew’s lap, peppering sleepy kisses on his neck.

“Gube, can you massage my back pleaseeee?”

Matthew shifts from under you to get more comfortable. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He placed the hot water bottle in between your stomachs and started working his large hands on your lower back, and it feels heavenly.

“Keep going like that, and I might fall asleep right here,” you mutter.

Matthew placed a kiss on top of your head, “Go ahead, baby.”

“Thank you, Matthew, really. For always taking care of me.” You tilt your head up to plant a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

Within a few minutes, you’re falling asleep in your lover’s arms, and it feels so nice that you briefly forget about all the pain your period’s caused you.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Dark Days (Rhys&Tim)

Okay so I wrote this one-shot of Timothy going to work for Atlas after being rescued from the casino and forming a friendship with Rhys, and I felt like dabbling in that AU a bit tonight. So here, have a non-proofread one-shot of Rhys being a good friend to Timothy!! (I’m functioning with half a brain cell tonight, pls excuse any typos)

Rhys had been a bit hesitant about hiring Jack’s doppelganger at first, but he had to admit, he was grateful the vault hunters brought Timothy here after rescuing him from the casino.

Even now, he gathered up the paperwork from his most recent presentation- paperwork Tim had put together for him at the cost of another all-nighter. All the information was thorough and well-researched though, and Rhys’ potential investors had been impressed. 

Rhys would have to find some way to thank Tim. A day off, maybe? Though Tim never seemed to enjoy them, despite all his complaining about work.

Something else, then. Maybe it’d be better to just ask Tim what he wanted. He didn’t seem to care much for a pay raise or vacation time, so that always left Rhys a bit puzzled on how to reward him for his hard work at Atlas. 

Rhys’ ECHO pinged with a new message. He finished putting his paperwork together before taking the ECHO and checking the message from Zer0.

Zer0: Went by your office/Timothy had your booze out/Better go stop him

Zer0: :( 

Rhys’ heart sank at the message. Tim had struggled to adjust at first, always jumpy and on-edge after everything he’d been through. But over time, he’d settled in and even seemed to thrive a bit, becoming a good friend to Rhys.

Still, from time to time, he had his dark days. There were days, rare as they were becoming, where Rhys or Zer0 would find Tim drowning himself in whatever booze he could manage to pinch from Rhys’ office.

It was hard to catch him before he got too shitfaced. He knew their schedules well enough to sneak his way in with enough time to get through the majority of a bottle before he was found.

Zer0 must’ve gone off his schedule for the day to find him so early. Rhys hurried out of the meeting room, connecting a feed to his assistant.

“Hey, cancel my next meeting. Something came up,” he said. “Possibly the meetings for the rest of the day. And send the biggest bottle of ibuprofen you can find to my office.”

He thought he might need it more than Tim. Rather safe than sorry when it came to dealing with Tim’s dark days. 

Rhys understood them, though. He’d been a Hyperion employee, after all. He knew the work environment even without Jack breathing down your neck. He couldn’t imagine working directly for Jack, being forced into non consensual surgeries to alter your body and personality, and then being locked in a casino for seven years with angry victims trying to kill you the whole time. No one was surprised that Tim’s mental health took sharp turns for the worst some days. 

The worst part was that Rhys didn’t even know what triggered these moods in Tim. Once Tim sobered up, he didn’t like to talk about it, just laughing it off and assuring it wouldn’t happen again, the lie easy on his tongue every time. 

Rhys reached his office, out of breath from hurrying along. He made a mental note to put exercise equipment in his office so this stopped happening, recalled how horrifyingly buff Vaughn had become after doing that, and scratched the idea. 

He pushed on the door, but it was locked. Tim must’ve realized Zer0 saw him in here.

Rhys put in the passcode and the door opened. Tim didn’t look up from where he sat at Rhys’ desk, drink in hand.

“Well, at least you didn’t drink straight from the bottle this time. You know that grosses me out,” Rhys said, shutting the door.

“You’re out of breath. You should exercise more, Mr. CEO,” Tim said, staring down at the nearly empty glass of whiskey. He reached out and filled it back up.

Rhys put his hand over it as Tim started to lift it towards his mouth. He glanced at the bottle, relieved to see he’d gotten here before Tim got too deep into it.

“You have a meeting,” Tim said.

“I cancelled it,” Rhys said. He sat in the chair across from Tim. “What’s wrong, Timothy?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just unwinding after a long day. We’ve done it before.”

Rhys usually tried to avoid having drinks with Tim when he could, not wanting to encourage this exact behavior. “Not often.”

“Go have your meeting, Rhys.” Tim sounded exhausted. “I’m fine. I’ll only have one or two, I promise.”

“Don’t lie,” Rhys said sharply. “Not to me, Timothy. Please.” 

Tim looked pained for a moment. “Right. Sorry.”

“Is it because I overworked you?” Rhys said anxiously. Had he been pushing Tim too hard? Tim always insisted he didn’t mind the all-nighters so long as he got to take it easy the next day and break for a nap if he wanted to. But what if that was a lie? What if Rhys was taking advantage of Tim?

“What? No,” Tim said in surprise. “No, Rhys, I’m not overworked. I mean, yea, paperwork sucks. But it’s not…” He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I swear. Seriously, you’re the only boss I know who gives me the greenlight to nap whenever I feel like it.” 

“Then...what?” Rhys said, feeling lost. For as close as he and Tim had gotten, he sometimes felt so distant from the other man. 

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Tim abandoned the drink, a bit reluctantly, and gestured to the door. “You want to grab lunch since you cancelled your meeting?”

“You’re deflecting,” Rhys said. He knew he shouldn’t push Tim, but he was worried about his friend. “Timothy, you can trust me. I just want to help.”

“I’m fine,” Tim said, smiling. It was so genuine looking that only the anxious twitch of his fingers gave him away. 

“You don’t have to be fine,” Rhys said. “You can be upset. I’m your friend, Timothy. I’m not going to judge you for having hard days with what you went through.”

“Dammit, Rhys, I said I’m fine,” Tim snapped, his tone that gruff, angry one Jack got. His eyes widened at his own outburst and he raked a shaking hand through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

Rhys got up. Tim hung his head miserably. 

Instead of leaving, though, Rhys went around the desk and put his arms around Tim. Tim jerked in surprise.

“Is this okay?” Rhys said nervously.

“It’s weird,” Tim said, but he was smiling weakly. “Definitely weird.”

“But not bad?”

“No, not bad. Awkward, but not bad.”

“Bring it in, big guy.”

“Sure, dad.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, but was relieved when Tim actually hugged him back. For as comfortable as he’d gotten around here, he was still very weird about physical contact. Rhys, who was a known hugger, always thought of it as a win when Tim let him get close like this. 

He hugged him for a long moment before slowly pulling away. “Better?”

“Only if you ruffle my hair and call me sport,” Tim said, snickering when Rhys whacked him in the arm. 

Rhys sat on the desk, facing Tim. “Timothy, I’m serious. I worry about you. I know you don’t do it often anymore, but it still worries me and Zer0 when you binge drink like this. It’s not a good way to deal with things. We’re your friends, and we just want to help you.”

“I’m dealing with it,” Tim said.

“Drinking yourself into a blackout isn’t a good way to deal with it,” Rhys said. 

Tim pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn weak. I’m sorry!”

Rhys grabbed his cybernetic hand, not wanting him to hurt himself with it. “You are not weak. I couldn’t even make it from my meeting to my office without running out of breath.”

Tim didn’t take the bait for a joke. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut.

“They asked me to go with them. That’s all it took to make me- Oh, fuck, Rhys, every time I think I’m getting better, I end up here,” he said, his voice raw with pain.

Rhys put a hand on his shoulder. “Who asked you to go with them?”

Tim swallowed hard and opened his eyes, staring at his cybernetic hand. “The guys I was working on that prototype proposal with. They were going to a c-casino.” His breath hitched on the word and he curled his fingers against his palm, looking torn that he couldn’t actually feel any of it. “And it was like I was suddenly back there. I couldn’t escape the thoughts. I tried. I really did. But it gets too much and I can’t stop it. I don’t know how else to make it stop.”

Rhys pulled him close again. “You’re not weak for that. You were locked in there for seven years, constantly in fear for your life. You’ve done an incredible job healing yourself after everything. It’s okay if some wounds never go away.”

“I want to be better,” he whispered.

Rhys pushed his shoulders back and looked into Tim’s eyes. The milky white of his blind one was always disconcerting, and it reminded Rhys of just how much horror and pain he’d endured from Jack. 

“Timothy, stop being so hard on yourself. You let me hug you twice just now. When you first came here, you wouldn’t even let me high-five you. You didn’t even shake my hand when the vault hunters introduced us. You couldn’t bear to let anyone touch you because you thought they’d hurt you. You are better. I see it, even if you don’t. I’m proud of how far you’ve come,” he said.

Tim wiped at his eyes. “I can’t decide if you sound like a dad or a therapist. I’ve never had either in my life, so I need a little more time to sort that one out.”

Rhys laughed a little. “I’m being serious, Timothy. Stop pushing yourself so hard. We can find other ways when it gets to be too much. But you have to let me help you. I want to help you. You’re my friend. You’re also my employee, and I owe you a thanks for all your hard work. So pick any reward you want and it’s yours.”

Tim glanced at the unfinished whiskey. But then he looked back to Rhys.

“Can we get pizza and watch a movie tonight? That’s all I want,” he said.

Rhys took out his ECHO and connected the feed to his secretary. “Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day.”

“I said tonight!” Tim said.

“You wanted to get lunch though, right? Let’s go have lunch and then take a walk around the city,” Rhys said. “I need the exercise and you need the air. Then pizza and movie it is.”

“Thank you, Rhys,” Tim said quietly. “I’m still debating on the whole dad or therapist thing, but you’re definitely my friend. Probably the best one I’ve ever had.”

“I’m...not entirely sure there was much competition,” Rhys said.

Tim grinned, just a little. “What, you don’t think my Elpis companions were tough to beat for that spot?”

“Not at all. Still, I’m glad to hear it,” Rhys said, getting up and holding a hand out to Tim.

Tim grabbed it and allowed Rhys to haul him to his feet. They left the whiskey on the desk, both knowing Zer0 would take care of it because he didn’t like to see Tim binge drink.

Rhys put a hand on Tim’s shoulder as they left the office. Tim didn’t even tease him or shrug him off; he found himself relieved at the contact, to be honest.

He was still struggling with adjusting after what he’d been through. But Rhys was always patient, and he meant it when he said Rhys was the best friend he’d ever had. He couldn’t be more grateful to have Rhys by his side, especially on his dark days.

[hateswifi]

Lips are Chapped and Faded

SOOOO I did it again, accidently deleted the text, WARNING FEELS AHEAD. Hope you enjoy this quick fic, can anyone name where the title came from?

The Master: Master List

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

When he first saw her again she looked broken, she was hunched I’ve the bar with a glass of bourbon, not her usual drink. “Angel?” She sat up straight and looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. 

“Oh hey Damian,” She greets, throwing back her drink before wiping her mouth and eyes, smudging her mascara. 

“What’s the matter? Why’ve you been crying?” He asks, taking the glass from her hand. She stands, wobbling a bit. 

“Oh nothing just drunk crying. Have you ever done that before? Nah! You wouldn’t do that,” Marinette says, falling forward having tripped on her heels, luckily, he caught her before she could hit the ground. “Oh wow! You’re sooo strong! Have you been working out! You must be. I’m tired.”

“Then let’s get you home,” Damian says, unphased by her drunken chatter. 

“I love you ya know? I shoulda asked you out when I got the chance,” Marinette giggles, putting her head on his shoulder. They walk, in Marinette’s case, stumbling, to Damian’s car. He opens the passenger door, wraps his coat around her shoulders, and buckles her seat belt. He sighs and drives her to his apartment. 

When they get into his apartment, with some difficulties, he gives some food and water. “Here, or you're going to regret it in the morning.”

“Thankssss Birdie,” Marinette says, taking the cup. 

“Come on, I’ll help you get situated,” he says, helping her stumble down the hall. He sits her on his bed and takes off her heels before grabbing a shirt from his draw. “If you want to get changed here’s a shirt, and a pair of shorts that one of my sisters left over here sometime.” He hands them to her and she starts to lift the hem of her dress. He quickly turns around, giving her privacy and hiding his blush. 

“Damiii I’m all done, your turn!” Marinette says in a sing-song voice. 

“Angel, just lay down,” Damian sighs. 

“Why! I’m not tired!” Marinette says, crossing her arms. 

“You are and you’ll fall asleep when you lay down.”

“Will you lay with me?”

“Marinette, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Pleaaaase Birdie only until I fall asleep,” Marinette pleads. 

“Fine,” Damian huffs, laying down. She follows, slipping under the sheets beside him. Not too long after, she falls asleep. He gets up to get changed. He pulls on clean sweatpants and pulled off his shirt and was going to put on a different one, when small arms wrap around his chest. Feather light kisses dance across his back. 

“Dami you left me,” Marinette whispers, her breath making the butterflies flutter in his stomach. 

“I’m just changing, lay down, I'll be back in a second,” Damian said, his breathing a bit uneven. She let go of him and padded back to the bed as he finished pulling on his shirt. He evened out his breath before climbing back in bed he laid on his side, facing away from Marinette. They fell into a comfortable sleep. 

He woke up the sheets being thrown on him, followed by footsteps running down the hall. His bathroom door crashed open and puking followed. He got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He held back her hair and rubbed small circles in her back as Marinette threw up everything. 

After she finished she leaned up against his tub and looked up at him. “Ibuprofen,” she panted. “Please.”

He nodded before rushing to the kitchen. He filled up a glass of water and grabbed her two tablets, before heading back to the bathroom. “Here ya go, feel any better?”

She took the pill and gulped down water. When she finished she said, “much.”

“You want breakfast?”

“Sure, pancakes?”

“I could manage, but after your done eating we have to talk about the message you sent me yesterday, you know considering I haven’t seen you in months,” Damian said, holding out a hand, she took it and he helped her stand up. They walk to the kitchen and Damian grabs out the ingredients as she sips more water from her spot at the island. 

“Could you remind me what the message said?” Marinette asked, putting her head on the cool countertop.

“I’ll play it,” Damian says, pulling out his phone. ‘Hiiiii Dami! I’m in Gotham for a month or so and I would love to spend it with you hanging out and doing stuff ya know?’ Her voice filled the apartment. 

“God, what the heck is the matter with me?” Marinette said, rubbing her face. 

“So it’s not true,” Damian asks, flipping a pancake, his disappointment hidden because his back was turned. 

“No! No I do, I just didn’t want to ask drunk, ya know?” Marinette said quickly. 

“Uhhh… yeah, here’s the first one,” Damian says, plopping a pancake on her plate. “Sure It’d be fun to hand out with you, just let me know what you wanna do ok?”

“Cool, this is a really good pancake, can I have another one?”

“Sure.”

A week later is when she called him. “Hey Damian, wanna meet up at out cafe for lunch?”

“That would be fine,” Damian answered, looking over some papers before checking the time, ten thirty. “Eleven-thirty?”

“Yep! I’ll meet you then,” Marinette responds cheerfully before hanging up. He sighs, running a hand through his previously styled hair. 

He decided he wasn’t going to get anymore work done before leaving so he just left early. Their cafe doubled as a boon store so he looked around a bit till he saw Marinette. She wasn’t looking good, her hair didn’t look as full and she looked pale. 

“Hey Angel, are you feeling alright?” Damian asks, pulling out the seat across from her. 

“Oh umm I’m fine I just don’t get a lot of sleep and I forgot to put in makeup,” Marinette quickly explained. Not wanting to upset her, he didn’t touch the excuse. 

Their lunch was lovely, they talked about what they would do the incoming week. Half way through they were interrupted by a call. 

“Sorry, this is really important I have to take it,” Marinette said, standing up quickly. Not too long after she rejoined Damian. “I’m sorry that was a client, they had to reschedule a meeting so I’m going to meet them. See you later!”

“Bye Angel,” Damian says, hugging her before she rushed off. As soon as she was out of sight he plopped in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. 

Over the next two weeks, they did a bunch of activities such as going to the arcade, walking in the park, Six Flags, dancing under the stars, and dinner among other things. The day before she was supposed to leave it was almost midnight when he got a call. 

“Hey Damian, I hope I didn’t wake you,” Marinette’s voice, which has progressively gotten worse, came through the phone. 

“No I was finishing up some things for a meeting next week,” Damian said. 

“Can we meet up for a star gaze?”

“Uhh sure I’ll pick you up?” He said, throwing on a sweatshirt. “I’ll see you in a bit, bye.” When he pulls up to her hotel, she gets in the car silently. She was wearing a sweatshirt as well and she looked awful. They get to the park and he lays out the blanket he pulled out of the trunk. 

“It’s hard to see them, but I like laying with you,” Marinette said, her head on his shoulder. “I should’ve dated you when I had the chance.” He sat ip and looked at her. 

“Marinette whatever it is, whatever it was we can work through it,” Damian says, looking down at the girl who’s a shell of who she used to be. “Why didn’t you before?”

“When you asked me I was heading back and you were ready to come with me. But I couldn’t do that to you, you love being Robin,” Marinette said, placing a hand on his cheek. 

“But I loved— love I don’t know you more,” Damian states. 

“Damian, you wouldn’t have been happy,” Marinette says, letting her hand fall to rest beside her. 

“What about now? I know you're not well but let me help you,” Damian says, pulling her up into a hug. 

“I love you Damian Wayne, but I can’t be with you,” Marinette cried into his shoulder. 

“Please let me help you, we can solve this together,” Damian says, rubbing her back. 

“We can’t solve this, no one can, but you made these last weeks amazing,” Marinette said. “Can I kiss you?” He didn’t respond, just leaned forward, it was a short kiss, but that spark everyone talks about, it was there and now it is too late. “Can you take me back to my hotel?”

“Of course,” Damian says, standing before helping her up. He picks up the blanket and they walk to the car together. The drive back was silent and when she got out she left an envelope that had his name on it. It also had instructions to not open it until tomorrow. He wanted to open it and disregard what it said but he couldn’t, it was what she wanted. He sighed put his head on the steering wheel for a couple of minutes to collect his thoughts and feelings before driving back to his apartment. 

It was midday when he got a call half expecting it to be Marinette he picked it up. “Hello this Gotham Hospital, is this Damian Wayne?” an unfamiliar voice came. 

“Hello, yes this is he, what’s the matter?” He responds, leaning back in his chair. 

“We have you as an emergency contact for Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he continued. 

Damian sat up quickly.  “What happened?” He asked, standing up and grabbing his coat. 

“She was brought in after collapsing, she’s on life supports and there’s enough time to come say goodbye,” the doctor says, as Damian is running down the hall before clicking the elevator button multiple times. 

“I’m in my way,” he says, curtly as the elevator descends. He runs his hand through his hair as he sticks a hand in his pocket, he feels a paper. He pulls it out and his breathing hitches, her letter. He tears it open. 

‘Hey Birdie,

I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, but I’m dying of cancer. I found out a couple of weeks ago and by the time the doctors found it, it was too far along to do anything but make my last weeks of living less painful. I decided to fly to Gotham to spend them with you, because even though I rejected you, I loved you more than I could ever express. Thank you for the lovely weeks. I really hope I got to tell you this in words but I love you and I would have loved to have a relationship with you. 

You deserve everything I can’t give you, love,

Marinette.’

The elevator opens on the first floor and there are tears rolling down his face. He gets odd looks but he doesn’t care. He needs to see his Angel. 

He rushes to the hospital, it’s a miracle he didn’t get pulled over for speeding. He ran to the entryway, giving his keys to the valet. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng please” Damian’s breathe out. 

“Down the hall on the right fourth door down,” she says nonchalantly. 

He rushes into the room and sees her there, truly a shell of who she used to be. IVs attached to her arms and breathing on a ventilator. 

He walks to the foot of her bed and falls to his knees. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me? I love you please stay, I can’t live you again.” He whispers pleas and promises of love to her, he hopes she can hear him. Not to long after he got there and started pleading with her to stay the deafening flat line rung throughout the room, leaving a now free Angel and a broken-hearted boy to pick up the pieces she left him with. 

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

Hope you enjoyed!!

Permanent Tag:

@ash-amg @bee-wrecker @damianette-is-life @mjisntme @i-will-be-your-ace

[wherearemyglassesbro]

I have a question for the lawyer AU, if that's okay? For each of the defense attorneys and prosecutors, do they have an MO when they're in court? And/or, do any of them get really nervous before cases/in the courtroom and have ways to calm themselves down?

AYYYYY A LAWYER AU ASK!!!! ITS BEEN 84 YEARS!!!! SINCE IVE GOTTEN TO TALK ABOUT THIS AU LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Defense attorney Kirkland: Arthur is always a wreck before trials. He’s jittery and nervous, he rarely gets any sleep before trials so he’s up around 3am, pacing around his apartment and rereading every paper he can get his hands on. He practices talking in the mirror and washes his face multiple times to keep himself wide awake. Copious amounts of tea are consumed as well as an everything bagel....mmm...yum. He’s at the courthouse hours beforehand, sitting in his car reviewing paperwork. Again. In the courtroom, Arthur is very persistent. He’s always pressing for more information and wording things juuuuuust right in order to get the answers he needs from the witnesses. He often refers back to paperwork since that stuff is written out and is just...easy to go back to. He also just asks a lot of questions in general and once he gets answers, he’s ready to talk. This guy can talk for hours and hours, he’s great at it. He scores extra points with the jury just because he’s easy to listen to and trustworthy

Defense attorney Jones: Alfred isn’t a full fledged attorney yet, he’s shadowing Arthur so whatever Art does, he has to do. He has to get up at the butt crack of dawn to meet Art in the courthouse parking lot. Al gets himself a muffin and a Pink Drink and he’s ready to do. He’ll sit on the hood of Art’s car and just listen to him ramble lmao. Alfred is a very friendly guy, he’s open and looks trustworthy. He makes an effort to never look angry in court! He thinks getting upset or angry looks bad for the defense and he isn’t entirely wrong. He’s nice while asking questions, he asks things that are worded in a certain way so he’ll get an answer he’s looking for! He doesn’t get to talk too much since again, he’s still shadowing Art, but when he does everything is calculated. Cause Al is young....but...smart :)

Defense attorney Herdarvey: I did not spell her name right but anyway, Eliza is a feminist icon in her workspace. She is super organized and has very case she’s ever worked with/on in color coded binders. She is super intelligent and hard working!! In court, you’ll see her taking notes or flipping through her binder or twirling her pen between her fingers while she listens to the prosecution or the witness testimonies. She isn’t harsh while conducting cross examinations but she is very cunning when she wants to be. She’ll ask questions to purposely make the witness admit the truth which is very impressive, especially if the Braginskys are the prosecutors cause they...uh...’coach’ witnesses on what to say sometimes. Before going to court she drinks tea in her car by herself while listening to Led Zepplin to get fuckin HYPED UP!!! Then she’ll meet with her client again to hype them up ‘it’ll be okay! We’re gonna win this one, we have it in the bag no worries’. Then she cracks her neck, knuckles and knees. Now she’s ready to go.

Prosecutor Edelstein: Roderich has a SET routine for court days and he will get very cranky if he cannot fufil his routine. He goes to bed at 10pm and wakes up at 4am. He eats a croissant with some tea and then goes over the case file, autopsy report, evidence, anything he can. At 6, he gets ready for the day. At 6:45, he’s in the car debating with himself throughout the entire drive to the courthouse. He meets with his team and witnesses, who he makes get there early too, to talk and reassure. He’ll pace around the parking lot, or inside if it’s too hot, until his knees hurt lmao. He always takes three ibuprofen before any trial because he anticipates getting a headache. Now its showtime. Roderich is a man of mystery, he always has a trick up his sleeve. Vaugely worded questions to trip up the defense, additional evidence to present, hes done it all. He’s is a very fantastic talker, he can talk for hours and hours and to be honest??? He always sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. The jury loves that, especially if he’s going up against Kirkland or Jones, the jury usually ends up favoring Rod solely because he explains his points better or something like that.

Prosecutor Braginskya: Nat is a very strict lady, she has a VERY specific way of doing things. Like Roderich, she’s high strung and bossy. She sends emails out first thing in the morning to make sure that her team is ready to go. Usually they’re not at 5am. Cue instant frustration. She gives herself a temple massage and has an eclair before heading in. Early of course. She walks slow laps around the court building, muttering to herself, she’s walking in tennis shoes and switches back to heels once she goes inside. She doesn’t get nervous really but she feels a lot of pressure before a trial. She is very persistent when working against the defense, she always hurries to aid the witnesses so they don’t slip up and she often accuses the defense of badgering her witnesses. She is a very smart woman but she isn’t the most fantastic talker in the world. Lawyers talk for a living and Nat is just fine at it! She isn’t the best but she makes up for it with her professional, serious aura

Prosecutor Braginsky: Ivan...oh Ivan. Ivan wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, irons his suit and styled his hair. He doesn’t eat before trials because his stomach hurts when he’s nervous and that wouldn’t help him very much. He does drink a lot of water though! And crunches the ice. He’s at the courthouse 30 minutes before the trial, which is later than any other prosecutor, but he’s still early enough to consult his team! He talks to the witnesses again and reminds them not to talk TOO much or give TOO much information because ‘the defense will start to get to them’. In the courtroom, Ivan is always happy to listen to the defense. He always lets them talk and talk because when they do that, they sometimes talk themselves into a corner. Now thats when he strikes “oh? You’re sure it happened that way? Well I was under the impression....” he rarely objects or yells but he is intimidating without having to be loud. He smiles through most trials, not a super wide one but a soft, confident smile.

Prosecutor Bonnefoy: Francis is not very organized at all but he makes it work. He has his briefcase full of papers...and they’re out of order. Before every court day he gets up super early to pace around his apartment while yelling about why he thinks this person he’s prosecuting is guilty. An advantage he has is that he memorizes things very quick so even though he most likley lost his copy of the accident report, he remembers the whole thing. After pacing around for an hour he’ll leave, taking the freeway into work. He sings along with an opera CD in his fancy sports car while going fuckin 95mph. By the time he gets to the courtroom he’s no longer nervous. He consults his team, goes over the papers he can find, makes fun of the defense and then it’s time to fuckin go. He does a lot of talking which usually makes the defense nervous. He’s confident in everything he says and everything his witnesses say. He doesn’t coach them the Braginsky way but he does assure them ‘you don’t tell them anything they don’t need to know cher, really. If you give too many details they’ll rip you apart! That’s the way the defense works. So be vague when you can but not too vague. Got it?’. He makes a show of his prosecution really but it’s a strategy that works. He’s won a lot of cases that way

Judge Beilschmidt: I’m including Lud cause I didn’t want him to feel left out :) Before every case he hears, he always likes to sit in silence for a few minutes to clear his mind. He has deep breathing exercises on his phone so he’ll just listen for about 10 minutes, giving himself time to relax before the chaos begins. He then collects his papers, straightens them out and lint rolls his judge robes. Then he’s all ready to go. When in court, he is totally unbiased. He was trained to be unbiased and he is always willing to hear both sides so he tries to be quiet while others talk but if things get too rowdy he doesn’t hesitate to slam that gavel down “NO YELLING IN MY COURTROOM!!!!” Oop- so much for quiet. After hearing a case and the guilty or not guilty verdict is delivered, he almost always feels his stomach drop all funny cause he always worries if he did the right thing. His brain says yes, that was the right call. But deep down he’s always afraid that he’s a bad judge. When he goes home he lets his dogs and after a tough case, he makes himself a bowl of chocolate ice cream with whipped cream on top.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut, and a whole mess of fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“C’mere.” You say to him. You sit up slightly. “I want you to like hover over me while I suck on you.”

“Are you sure you want my balls in your face like that?” He chuckles.

“Won’t bother me.”

Harry comes closer to you, and grips the top of your headboard. You grip him in your hand at first, and then put your mouth right on him. He sucks in a breath when he feels your hot, wet mouth around him. Sometimes you think back to when you were younger. You absolutely hated sucking dick. Some guys just had bad hygiene. But you loved doing it for Harry. He really made you see how hot it was to pleasure someone else orally. He also kept things trim and clean, which you very much appreciated.

He rocks against your face, going deeper down your throat. You groan against him, and he grips your headboard tighter. His eyes are screwed shut, trying to picture his dick inside of you where he really wants it. It’s not that he didn’t love it when you blew him, he just wanted to feel how tight you were.

It doesn’t take him long to come down your throat. You swallow up every bit of it, and he climbs off of you. You get up to rinse your mouth out.

“Holy shit!” You scream, and he rushes into in the bathroom to make sure you’re alright. He finds you inspecting the back of your body in the mirror. Your front wasn’t nearly as fucked up. “Jesus, Harry.” You say rubbing a spot on your shoulder. “I look like a leopard.” You start laughing.

“You said I could…”

“I’m not complaining.” You assure him.

“Looks good on you anyways.” He gives you kiss on the cheek and pats your bum. He leaves you to do your thing in the bathroom.

You wash your face and brush your teeth. When you come out of the bathroom you pick up his t-shirt and throw it on over you. He’s sitting up in bed reading.

“Harry, you look so cute in your glasses, have I ever told you that?” He looks at you and smiles.

“Maybe once or twice.” He teases. He finishes the last page of his book and sighs.

“What?” You ask getting into the bed.

“Nothin’, just sad. This was the last book in this series.”

“Did it have a happy ending?”

“As happy as it could be, yeah. It’s my second time readin’ it, still gets to me.” He takes his glasses of and wipes a tear away.

“I wish I liked reading as much as you do. I much prefer television.”

“I just like getting’ lost in the pages. I mean, I read garbage novels, but they’re just so addicting. Has a television show ever moved you to tears?”

“Oh, tons of times. I think TV has made me cry more than film.”

“Really? What shows have made you cry?” He pulls you into his chest and turns the light off. God, you loved pillow talk before bed.

“Okay, don’t laugh, but when I was in high school, and college too, I was really into Glee.”

“That show about the nerds in the acapella club?”

“Yeah.”

“That show made you cry?”

“I think just about every episode in the third season made me cry, and I sobbed during the season finale. To be fair, I was like sixteen.” You giggle. “There were a couple of scripted series on MTV too that made me super emotional.”

“Like what?”

“There was a show called Awkward that just really fired me up. And there was Teen Wolf.”

“Teen Wolf? Isn’t that a movie with Michael J. Fox?”

“Yeah! But then MTV made a show based off the movie, much darker though. It was really good. Well, it got worse as the seasons went on, but I watched through to the end. Same with Awkward.”

“Do you watch anythin’ now that tugs at your heart strings?”

“Um…I really like that show Roswell: New Mexico. I didn’t think I would like it so much, but it got to me. The first season is on Netflix, maybe we could watch it sometime.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“I used to like live blog and write reviews for the shows I’d watch. I still do sometimes.”

“Where do you blog?”

“On Tumblr mostly.”

“That’s cool that you do that.”

“It’s funny because I hate reading reviews of things. I like to try things out for myself. Oh! Do you watch Stranger Things? That’s a good one. Niall and I always binge watch it together when a new season comes out.”

“That’s right!” He starts laughing. “I remember he like blew me off during the day on the 4th this summer to go meet up with you.”

“That was an incredible binge, if I do say so. Speaking of him, he wants to have a movie night Friday so we can all celebrate our good news. I was thinking of having everyone over here. What do you think?”

“Works for me.” He smiles at you.

//

Your period was a killer this week. There were several times during the week you found yourself on the floor in your office. You had run out of your stash of ibuprofen, and hadn’t had time to get more. You were forced to just suffer in silence. The pain would pass eventually, and then you could get on with it.

Harry was good about not getting on your nerves too much. He was slowly learning what you needed while your hormones were at their peak. Every morning you’d examine your body, almost becoming sad at seeing the marks slowly fade away as they healed. You were incredibly horny, but there wasn’t anything you could do. You’d had sex on your period before, but you certainly weren’t going to let him use his fingers or mouth on you right now. You had contemplated maybe in the shower, but you were afraid of residue. You didn’t tell him this, but you got yourself off a couple times in the shower on your own. You had to, the ache between your legs was just too unbearable.

Your body was trying to tell you something for sure, but your mind tried its best to keep you at bay.

//

You were delighted when your period ended Friday morning, but your stomach felt like shit. The first week of a birth control pack was your least favorite thing, even more so than your period. Your dosage wasn’t even that high, but it still would make you feel like you were going to vomit.

“Anythin’ ya need me t’pick up for tonight? I can do a run to the market before ya get home from work.” Harry says to you sitting up in bed, watching you pick your outfit for the day.

“Think I have everything we need. I have chips and dip, we’ll probably order pizza or something.” You decide on a pair of dark jeans and blouse/blazer combination. You throw your hair up in a high pony, and take a few strands out to frame your face.

“Know what we’re watchin’ yet?”

“Nope.”

“Who’s comin?” You sigh and look at him.

“Harry, I love you, but you’ve reached my capacity for questions this morning, okay?” He blinks at you.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I just feel gross and I’m hormonal. Not a great excuse.”

“One more question.” You nod. “Is Aunt Flow still in town?”

“No she left early this morning, thank god. This was a rougher month.” You sit on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on your thigh.

“Sometimes I wish I could just take all your aches away.” You smile at him.

“You do, in more ways than you know.” You stand up and give him a light kiss. “See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

//

You felt better as the work day went on. You were excited to have a little double date with Niall and Sarah. Harry got out of work around 4PM, so he went straight to your apartment. He knew you’d want to have the place ready to go so you could relax when you got home. He fluffed up the pillows on your couch, and folded up the couple of blankets you kept on the back of it. He made sure all of the beer for him and Niall was in the fridge, and he picked up your favorite wine.

You keyed into your apartment around 5:30, and kicked off your shoes. Your nose was pink from the cold air outside. Harry had his legs slung over one of the large chairs you had near the couch. He had his laptop, and was working away. He looked up at you and gave you a smile.

“Hi, love.” He says.

“Hi honey.” You yawn.

“I tidied a bit for ya.” You kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you. M’just gonna go change quick.”

You change into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and come back out to Harry. He puts his laptop on the coffee table, and gestures for you to come sit with him. You sit in his lap, and rest your head on his shoulder. He rocks you back and forth slowly, and you let out a calming sigh.

“How’s my baby girl today, hm?”

“Tired.” He rubs your back. “But I’m happy to have friends over tonight.” You nuzzle into his neck.

“I bought that wine you really like.”

“Mm.” Is all you muster out as you start to doze off in his arms. He chuckles, but lets you drift.

Your eyes snap open when you hear Niall and Sarah walk into your place. You practically jump off of Harry.

“Sorry, did we disturb you two?” Sarah giggles. “We brought a veggie platter.” She hands it to Harry.

“No, I fell asleep. I was exhausted.” You stretch, and hug your friend.

“Alright, what are we watchin? TV, movie?” Niall says.

“Oh! You know what was on the other night that I’d love to watch all the way through?” You say.

“What?”

“The Forty-Year-Old Virgin. I refrained from watching it because it was halfway through. It’s on Netflix, do we feel like a comedy?”

“Works for me.” Niall says.

“I love that movie!” Sarah says.

Harry and Niall grab their beer, and you and Sarah fill your glasses with wine. You and Sarah sit in the middle of the couch, and your boyfriends sit on either side of you. Your apartment was filled with giggles right off the bat.

“God, we love a young Paul Rudd.” Sarah says.

“We love a Paul Rudd at any age.” You clink your glass with hers. Harry pinches your arm, and you giggle. “What?”

“I’m sittin’ right here. You’re attracted to him?”

“You’re not?! He’s beautiful!” You and Sarah start laughing.

“Isn’t he like fifty?” Niall chimes in.

“So?” You and Sarah say at the same time.

“He’s a hall pass for sure.” Sarah says, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek.

“Agreed. What I would give for a night with Paul Rudd.” You look up at Harry and burst out laughing.

“Jesus, mate, here I was thinkin’ she liked the tall, tan guys, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Now you’ve learned your place.” Niall says laughing. You kiss Harry on the cheek.

You and Sarah laugh so hard you both cry when Jonah Hill makes his small cameo. The guys end up laughing pretty hard at several moments too. You get up to grab the veggie platter out of the fridge and set it up on the coffee table for everyone.

“Thanks for bringing this by the way.”

“Oh no problem, figured it would be better than pizza. Are you excited for Hanukkah to start tomorrow?”

“Yes! I look forward to the gift card my uncle gives me every year.” You giggle.

“Is Harry going with you?” Sarah asks.

“Yup.” You two share a look and start laughing.

“Alright, why does this keep happening? Has everyone been to this party but me?”

“Pretty much, lad.”

“What’s the big deal? Is there somethin’ I should know?”

“Y/N’s great uncle is just a really funny guy. I would just watch out when he greets you.”

“Sarah!”

“You’re not even going to warn him?”

“Warn me of what?”

“If she didn’t warn me, she doesn’t get to warn him.” Niall says.

“Harry…just…” Sarah giggles. “He’s just an older Jewish guy with different ways of saying hello. That’s all.”

“What’s he gonna do? Hug me? M’fine with that.”

“Sure, he’s going to hug you.” Sarah shrugs. “It’s a really great way to know you’re part of the family.”

Sarah and Niall leave around 11PM. You and Harry clean up the living room, and head to the bedroom.

“What time should we leave tomorrow?”

“Party starts at six, so we should probably leave here at like quarter of five, might be traffic.”

“Oh great, so we can sleep in a little?”

“Yup.” You kiss him and turn over. He wraps himself around you, being the bigger spoon.

“That was fun tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we were able to do it. Gotta make more time for them.”

“Definitely….so, Paul Rudd could have you huh?” You turn over to face your stupid boyfriend.

“You’re not serious?”

“Nice to know how you really feel.” He fake pouts.

“I’m sure you have your own celebrity crushes.”

“I suppose. None I would leave you for to go fuck though. Wouldn’t be worth it.” You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “You would really ask me for a hall pass for Paul Rudd? Of all people?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if he wasn’t married with kids, I would consider it. More than anything I think I’d like to just have dinner with him, pick his brain.”

“So you want to go out on a date with him?”

“Sure!” You giggle.

“Who else do you swoon over?” He gives you a crooked smile.

“That’s a very personal question.” You tease.

“Why?”

“Because you’re essentially asking me about who I’ve fantasized about.”

“Jesus, if you tell me you’ve touched yourself thinking about Paul R-“

“I haven’t! Not with him.”

“Who then?” Your cheeks flush. “C’mon, I wanna know who my competition is.”

“Harry, it’s embarrassing.” You shove your face into his chest.

“Please, I’m so curious.” He begs.

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t.” You lift your head and look at him.

“I would bone Andy Samberg if I had the chance, again, if he wasn’t married with a child. I will not be a homewrecker.”

“What is with you and older Jewish dudes?”

“Don’t know. It’s not because they’re Jewish. I just find him really attractive, plus he’s funny. You’re funny.”

“Right, the key to a girl’s heart is humor.” He rolls his eyes.

“Harry, if you didn’t make me laugh on our first date, I wouldn’t have seen you again, attraction or not.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Sense of humor is very important to me. You’re so quick when you joke around, you could be a comedian yourself.” He lifts your chin up to kiss you.

“So, you were pretty hot f’me when we first met, huh?”

“So hot.” You roll your eyes. “I had never seen a man quite so handsome. What about me? What did you think of me when we first met?”

“I wanted to hit Niall for not doing you justice. I mean the lad told me you were beautiful, but shit, when I saw you, I nearly got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Oh stop.” You swat your arm at his chest.

“M’serious. And you were so cute at the end of the night, when you simply kissed me on the cheek. It was so innocent and sweet. Not somethin’ I had really experienced before.”

“How do your first dates typically go?” You giggle. Harry scrunches his face.

“Do ya really wanna know the answer t’that?”

“Are you seriously going to tell me that you usually bone on the first date?”

“That’s usually the only date I want, so yeah.” He says a little too honestly.

“What about the girl you dated for like seven months, or whatever?”

“Uhh, we got frisky…didn’t do it til the second date I think. I don’t know, I was such an asshole, I basically just thought of her as the girl I was consistently hookin’ up with.”

“Were you sleeping with other people?”

“Nah, just her.”

“And she thought you were dating, but you didn’t think you were?”

“I just thought of her as the girl I was seein’.” You often wondered what made you so goddamn special. You and Harry had talked about it before, but it still baffled you. “I know what you’re thinkin’. You know what I really liked about you, like, right off the bat?”

“What?”

“You were just so open and lovely. You were genuinely interested in what I had to say. I thought it was sweet that you complimented m’nails, like not in a judgey way. I couldn’t wait to see you again, honestly. I’d never felt that way before.”

“So you didn’t want to just fuck me then?”

“I wouldn’t have turned the opportunity down. I mean, you looked so fuckin’ sexy in that little black dress you wore.”

“I’ve never seen a man wear a pair of pants the way that you do.”

“What?” He laughs.

“You have a bubble butt babe, and it’s incredible. Love sinking my nails into those cheeks.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Maybe just a bit buzzed, but I mean what I say.” You prop yourself up to really look at him. “You have a chonk, my dude.” Harry burst out laughing.

“Who talks like that?” He says with a big smile.

“Me and my friends. You’re not the only with a dirty mouth.” You wink. “You know what, I think that’s why I like Paul Rudd and Andy Samberg so much. They both have pretty big butts.”

You both giggle about a bunch of different things until you fall asleep.

//

The next morning you both happily slept in. You got up before Harry. You decided to do a light workout in your living room since you didn’t go to the gym much last week. You put on a pair of spandex shorts and sports bra, and tip toed out. You were just finishing your cool down when Harry walked into the living room, blanket wrapped around him. You guzzled down some water. Your body was drenched in sweat.

“Morning baby. Thought I’d get a quick workout in, we’re going to be eating a lot of food tonight.” He squints at you.

“You…you weren’t in the bed when I woke up.” He rubs his eyes, his voice was still thick with sleep.

“I was just out here, did you think I went somewhere?” You turn the TV off, and walk towards him.

“I don’t know what I thought. I just reached for you and you weren’t there.” He pouts. “I like when we snuggle in the mornin’. You’ve deprived me.” You giggle at him.

“Is baby a little cranky this morning?” You pinch of his cheeks and walk by him.

“Where you goin’ now?” He whines.

“Harry, I’m caked with sweat, I need to shower. You can join me if you want.”

“Not awake enough to shower.”

“That makes no sense. Showers wake people up all the time.”

“Too much work.” He curls up on the couch, and closes his eyes.

You take your shower, alone. You take full advantage of having the privacy to shave every last inch of yourself. You blow dry your hair, and throw your robe on, not really feeling like putting clothes on yet. Harry was still wrapped in your blanket, but he was sitting up and had a mug in his hands. He was watching something mindless on television. You sit down next to him and smile. You throw your legs over his lap.

“Feel how smooth my legs are, I just shaved them.” He gives you a funny look and giggles, rubbing his hand up and down one of your legs.

“Mm, so soft.”

“You’re a sleep boy today.”

“Yeah, I am. Not really sure why, I’ll perk up once the coffee’s in me.”

“Want me make something for breakfast? I have oatmeal and grapes.”

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

You turn on the electric kettle Harry had sneakily bought you. He said it was for him so he could have tea quick, but you know he wanted you to have one of your own. Once the water was boiling, you poured it into the two bowls of quick oats you made up. You but a dash of cinnamon in each, and topped it with some grapes. You come back over and hand him his bowl.

“Thank you baby.”

“My pleasure.”

You both scarf down your breakfast, and sit on the couch a while longer. Harry gets up to clean the bowls, and puts them in the dishwasher. He stretches out, and lets out a moan.

“Alright, guess I’ll shower now.”

You bring the blanket back to the bed and make it up. Harry’s in and out of the shower quick. He has his towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, filing your nails, he sits down next you.

“How long we been together now? Little over four months?”

“Yeah, it’ll be five in January.” You smile. “Why?” He twiddles his thumbs.

“Well, it might be too soon to be bringin’ this up, but s’not like that’s ever stopped us before. I’m here a lot, and I love your place. I still like my place, but I love your place because this is where you and all your things are. I didn’t know if maybe when we got back from holiday, maybe we could entertain the idea of finding a place of our own?” He looks up at you. You’re speechless. “I mean, I’d say let’s just live here, but I need a space for my desk and monitor. I think a two bedroom where we could split the other room as a conjoined office or somethin’, would make the most sense.” He chews on his bottom lip. “I’ve totally freaked you out haven’t I?”

“How long have you, um, felt this way? When did you realize you wanted to live with me?”

“Can’t pin point it. Just somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about. I know it seems fast, but we’re practically livin’ together as it is. We can talk about it later if you’re not ready now. Just wanted to put the bug in your ear.”

You were amazed. You hadn’t even fully slept with the man yet, and he already wanted to live with you. You put your hands on his shoulders and push him back on the bed. You crawl on top of him, and kiss his face all over.

“Harry, I would love to live with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Maybe like towards the end of January we could start looking for a bigger place. You know, once all of the holidays are over. Can you break your lease at any time?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Why?”

“Well…you could move in here before we find another place. Doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying rent. It could take us months to find a place, I’d rather have you here during the in between. We can rearrange the furniture to fit all of your things. And I have that storage unit, we could keep your bed and bulkier furniture there for a little while.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him. “Um…not that I don’t wanna tell the world, but I’d like to keep this quiet from my family for a bit. I still have to tell my dad about England. I’d rather ease them into something like this.”

“Of course. Better keep it quiet from my mum too. Keep everything nice and light.”

“I’m so excited!”

“Me too!”

Harry always seemed to be able to read your mind. It was a conversation you were hoping to have with him after you got back from England. You just couldn’t believe that he beat you to it. You were practically living together, and it didn’t make sense for you both to be paying rent separately. You’d miss his little place, but you’d eventually find a bigger place you both liked. You still loved the idea of potentially living in Niall’s building. Once you start making more money, you’d be able to afford it no problem.

[upamongthestarss]

When Love Walked In//Bill Denbrough

a/n: please be kind! this is my first time publishing on tumblr, and i’m not the best writer 💘 oh, and warnings! very mild nsfw, brief mention of self harm (blink and you’ll miss it)

Y/n takes a drag and squirms under Richie’s glance, just knowing that he’s going to pick on her, as per usual.

“Hmmm…. Y/n, truth or dare?”

Figures. “Um, truth.” Better to be safe than sorry when it comes to Richie.

“What was the farthest you and Bill have ever gone?”

Her cheeks turn pink as she passes the joint to Bill, her boyfriend since the age of thirteen. “Well-”

“Was this really necessary, Trashmouth?” Ben interrupts. “I’d much rather not know about my sister’s sexual life, thank you.”

“Close your ears if you want to, Benny,” Y/n giggles while he fumes over the nickname. “Probably just hickeys and groping.”

“Really? You’ve been dating for three years and that’s it?” Stanley raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, St-Stan, y-y-you talk to m-me when you’ve lost your vir-virginity.”

“Come on, Big Bill, we all know you’ve been ready to have sex with her since sophomore year.”

Richie knows he messed up right away, especially as everyone stares at him accusingly- everyone but Y/n, who awkwardly looks around the room and sings under her breath like she didn’t hear.

“N-nice, R-R-Richie,” Bill whispers.

“Bill, I am so sorry.”

Y/n still feigns oblivion and scans the room. “Bev, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she shrugs, continuing the game. Y/n tries to forget about what happened until it’s time to leave the clubhouse. Her ride, conveniently enough, is Bill.

He didn’t want to leave his car on the outskirts of the barrens, so instead he pedals Silver to the clubhouse and back, with Y/n squeezing the living daylights out of him. It’s a quiet ride back, save the strange, existential comments Bill occasionally makes and her singing Can’t Fight This Feeling on repeat. It’s not until he’s almost back to Y/n’s house that she gathers enough courage to say what she wants to.

Because, in all honesty, she’s been ready to have sex too, just way too shy to say so.

“So… when do your parents come back from their cruise?”

She asks it casually, as if to wonder what day their English test is. In fact, it’s so casual that Bill doesn’t even take the hint (although it may not help that he’s utterly stoned at the moment).

“T-Tuesday.”

“And are you doing anything Saturday night?”

He skids Silver to a stop on the pavement. “No…”

“So what time do you want me to come over?”

*********

Singing happily, Y/n twists the last strand of hair around her curling iron and lets it tumble over her shoulder. She’s struggled with self esteem issues in the past, but she personally thinks she looks beautiful right now. While she puts on her pineapple lip gloss, her brother comes into the bathroom to grab some ibuprofen.

“You look awfully nice to sleep over at Bev’s,” he comments.

She freezes. “Yup….”

“Is there a reason that you’re so dressed up?” he gestures to her lavender party dress.

“We’re, uh, going to see Pippin at the fancy theater,” she fibs smoothly, but her twin sees right through her and smirks.

“Oh, funny, I thought opening night was next week?”

Y/n glares. “Okay, fine, I’m sleeping over at Bill’s, okay? But you can’t tell mom, please?”

“I don’t know, Y/n, this is a pretty big secret to hide.”

“Come on, Ben, I keep all of your secrets!”

He gives a cough that sounds a lot like the beer in my room.

“Hey, that was your own fault for breaking my favourite tape.”

“It was an accident!”

“It wasn’t an accident when you took it without asking,” Y/n puts her hands on her hips.

Ben sighs, not wanting to lose this argument. “How about this- if I get our car for the weekend, I won’t tell mom.”

“But Benny, I need that car to get to Bill’s!”

“You just made things ten times worse for yourself by calling me that. Besides, I’ll drive you there. It’s the car or no deal.”

She knows right then and there that she is out of luck. Her brother cannot bluff for his own life, so she has no choice but to agree.

But she can’t stay annoyed for long because she’s beyond excited for what’s coming. Her knee bounces in anticipation the whole drive, and she even sings along to the radio (which isn’t anything new, except for she’s louder than usual).

When Ben pulls up to Bill’s driveway, Y/n kisses his cheek and hops out instantly. He has to shout for her to come back and grab her duffel bag.

“Be safe!” he tells her. ”Love you!”

“Ben, I LOVE you!” she waves her hand off as he drives into the distance.

Bill’s waiting for her in the doorway, wearing jeans, a flannel, and a smile.

“Hey, Y-Y/n.”

She runs into his open arms and takes in the faint smell of his cologne. She already has butterflies.

“Y-you w-want to order a p-p-pizza, or-?”

“I’m honestly not that hungry,” she admits. “Are you?”

He shakes his head truthfully.

“D-d-do you w-want to go up-upstairs?”

“Sure.”

Bill leads the way to his bedroom, though she’s been there several times. He can’t get her out of his head. Her angelic curls, her dress the color of lilacs. She’s more lovely than a flower. He can hear her singing sweetly as they climb to his room.

“Love walked right in and drove the shadows away. Love walked right in and brought my sunniest day.”

He remembers when she sang that song at her recital last year. It was a true song for both of them.

When Y/n first moved to Derry, people made fun of her brother for his weight and herself for her nose and quirky personality. Her self esteem plunged and she refused to talk to anyone about it. Friendless and hopeless, she would cross-hatch her forearms and eventually stop singing altogether. But then her brother met the Losers, and encouraged Y/n to hang out with them some time. She instantly bonded with Bill, who had low self esteem because of his stutter and mainly because he blamed himself for the death of his brother. With the Losers, Y/n began to feel like she belonged again. She had friends that loved her for who she is- personality and nose included. Bill and her developed crushes on each other and in early August, following the Losers’ brief separation. One night during that time period, they spilled all of their issues on each other. The night ended with an innocent peck under the stars in his backyard. Love walked in and saved them both. After Pennywise was defeated, the two encouraged each other to see a therapist. Slowly but surely, they got healthy, and Y/n started singing again. In fact, she never stops singing now. It drives Ben quite mad sometimes.

She sings better than anyone he knows, and anytime she lets that sweet voice go, he melts.

“I m-made a tape. F-f-for… you know. But I’d m-m-much rather y-y-you sing for us.”

She giggles softly at the thought of her singing while he moans. “A tape sounds wonderful.”

He pops it in his stereo and listens to her gasp in excitement.

“I love Unchained Melody!!”

“Y-y-you don’t know h-how long it t-t-took for this s-song to c-come on the radio. I had to r-r-request it ev-eventually.”

“That’s so thoughtful, Bill.”

Y/n cups his face and gives him an open mouthed kiss. He’s instantly hard.

“I’m ready, Bill,” she whispers.

“Muh-muh-me t-t-too.”

His stutter is evidently worse; he’s nervous out of his mind, after all. But he takes control of the situation, scooping Y/n up and placing her on his bed like she’s the most fragile diamond.

She reaches and grabs Bill by his collar, pulling his lips to hers. Underneath their gasping and the music are their uncontrollable heartbeats. It’s almost as if they’re going to beat straight out of their chests!

Bill pulls away to unbutton his shirt, but Y/n is already on it. When it’s completely open, she pulls it off of his shoulders and squeezes his muscles. He’s so toned from all of the sports he does (mainly baseball), but Y/n always finds herself surprised at how muscular he really is.

He glides his hand gently along her chest, as if she’s his piano, before grabbing her spaghetti straps. He slips them down her arms and ever so slowly pulls the dress down her body. Her chest is braless, and by now he’s practically creamed his pants. His mind is hazy, though he’s completely sober.

Okay, Bill. Think, you idiot. You need to stimulate her now so she can finish later.

He places his warm hands on Y/n’s frigid stomach and feels her tense up.

“Is-is-is this o-o-o-okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just ticklish,” she laughs.

He takes his hand down to her panties and shoves it under them.

Y/n is already in heaven.

******

The pizza man gets quite a shock when Bill opens the door in nothing but his boxers, but he doesn’t give a flying shit. Besides, better him than Y/n, who’s wearing a just flannel with her ass hanging out.

They chuckle about his reaction, devouring the pizza and watching Beverly Hills 90210.

“I never thanked you, you know,” Y/n pipes up during a commercial break.

“For the p-pizza? It was o-only five b-b-bucks.”

“Not for the pizza. For the sex,” she responds bluntly. “That was… incredible. Thank you.”

Bill turns red. “Th-thank you. You w-w-were p-perfect. You a-a-are perfect.”

“I think you’re pretty perfect too,” she grins, giving him a kiss.

Bill smiles at her. He’s never loved someone like this before, spiritually or physically. Sure, he’s jacked off several times (like every other guy in the world), but the pleasure and adoration he received from Y/n just in the past hour was insurmountable. And he can’t wait for the rest of his life with her.

“R-round two?”

Y/n beams, and before she can stop herself, she says the quirkiest thing ever.

“Abso-freaking-lutely.”

[tuellertrails]

We’re 3 weeks into our hike so far, here are a few things I have learned

- Wake up EARLY in the desert. Because it will get hotter than hell and you will die of heatstroke if you hike in the heat of the day.

- Take your shoes (foot prisons) off at every opportunity. Your feet will thank you

- The higher you go in elevation, the harder the hiking is, the less hot it becomes and the more beautiful the scenery is. The desert has its own kind of beauty, but being in an alpine environment with lots of trees and the smell of sun warmed pine needles is my favorite place to be (besides a comfortable bed watching TV and eating snacks, of course). We’ve had several days of hiking where we’ve done over 5k feet of elevation, and I find that I am particularly prone to swearing and exhaustion on those days 😂. But the incredible views do make up for it somewhat! It’s all part of the experience.

- Ibuprofen (Vitamin I) and Benadryl are a hikers best friend.

- Pack out fresh food whenever you can. Vegetables and fruit have never tasted so good.

- Kindness is EVERYWHERE. We’ve received food, cold drinks, rides, camp chairs to sit in and many other kindnesses from trail angels, other hikers, family members and random people. Everything is appreciated.

Speaking of kindness, we spent several hours one day waiting out the heat of the day in a small hut next to the wind farm made for hot, suffering PCT hikers, with a cooler of cold water for us to enjoy. It was 95* even in the shade 🥵. We did not leave early enough that day, but it gave me the chance to wait out the heat and look at my phone 😂.

Here’s some highlights/points of interest from the last 100+ miles

- We heard a great story from Trail Angel who gave us a ride out of Julian, who heard it from a different hiker that she gave a ride to. So the hiker was hiking down the trail (early on, around mile 15) when he hears a voice say "hello". He looks down and sees a guy laying in the bushes in a sleeping bag with mud on his face. "Oh, uh... hello" the hiker says. The man responds "Would you like to be blessed with magic sand?" And holds up a pile of sand in his hand. The guy wasn't sure if this dude was on drugs, was going to throw the sand in his face or what, and he's contemplating how to side step this very weird man when the dude stands up and reveals that he is completely naked and says "You should really use mud. It makes the best sunscreen". Glad that it wasn’t me, poor guy.

- We went through a small town in Warner Springs who had a gas station and some picnic tables, so basically a hiker haven. We spent a couple of hours eating gas station food, and I gave another hiker a shot in the butt 😂. Nursing skills always coming in handy out here. Landon consistently says that the gas station hot dog was one of the highlights of the trail.

- My feet are MUCH better than they were. Getting inserts and some foot compression socks were a game changer for me. I now can walk many more miles without having to stop so often to roll out the golf balls on my feet. Despite this, hiking is still hard and we still find new soreness, aches and pains every day. But I do think that we are toughening up and able to do more miles than we did the first week. My blisters are mostly hardened now, and we have done as many as 18 miles in a day at this point.

- Water can be very scarce, and you have to plan out your water carries very carefully. One water source in this last stretch was a big water tank a few hundred feet from “Mikes Place”. Mikes Place is near the trail and has a big water cistern for hikers to go and get water, but they also let hikers camp and party there and sometimes feed them. There were some comments on Guthooks (the hiking navigation app we use) about how Mikes Place was kind of sketchy and borderline sexist, but we went down there with our hiker friends Sarah and Clyde, hoping for some food. Mikes place was interesting to say the least. It was a run down one story house that looked rather shabbily built, with a blanket as a wall in one section. It’s in a few acres of property, and there are all sorts of random things in front of the house. An assortment of stools and chairs, some lawn games like croquet and darts, a fire pit, a few coolers, and then even more random things like a sword stuck in a stone (a replica like in the movie). There was also an old painted car on one end, a shabby outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven and a greasy grill and lots of bowls and plates and utensils, and lots of other items spread out across the property. It seemed a little hoarder-y to us. They had Johnny cash playing in the background which kind of fit the vibe of the place. There were a few hikers there eating already, and a more stout gentleman wearing a t shirt, shorts and flip flops whose name was Scott. He said that there was no food left but that we could cook our own if we wanted, and we were like "ummm, sure?" 
So he brought out the ingredients for breakfast burritos and we got to cracking eggs and slicing veggies and fired up the very greasy outdoor grill, and within about 15 minutes we were eating breakfast burritos. Scott was a little weird. He would pop in and out of where we were cooking and then disappear again, I guess he was nice enough but he just gave off a bit of a weird vibe. Apparently Mike lives in San Diego and Scott is a caretaker of his place for now, along with another guy named Spirit who we met a little later as we ate. He was a older guy, with long white hair in a ponytail and beard, wearing a dirty green zip hoodie with what looked to be a hand painted "VVR" on it, jeans and chacos. He chatted with us briefly, he is a hiker who has hiked the John Muir Trail every year since 2014 and then decided to go work at VVR, a resort in the Sierras, after visiting it so many times. He said he was headed up there in a few weeks. Anyways, we are our burritos, washed our plates, said thank you and left to go filter water from the tank up above, leaving some money in the donation box as a thank you. The food was good but I definitely wouldn't have felt comfortable being there by myself, Mike’s Place was a little...dirt baggy, but I’m glad I got to experience it all the same. Apparently Scott is hiking now, and showed up at the campground in Idyllwild a few days later, drunk as a skunk and vomited all over 😂.

- We’re 10% done with the trail! Which really puts into perspective how long this hike actually is 😂. We had heard that our trail legs would start to come in after 3 weeks, but both Landon and I agree that we’re still quite sore and wake up with different aches and pains every day. We are definitely running a major calorie deficit at this point, burning upwards of 4K calories per day, burning much more than we are eating. This is ok with us, as we could both lose 30 Lbs or more and still be in a healthy weight range! Our friend Jamie, who hiked the trail years ago with her husband, says that we are losing our “town fat”. But we both agree that our clothes are feeling a bit looser than they were before. Who knew that 3 weeks of near continuous intense exercise would do that? We are slowly getting more fit, so hopefully those trail legs will come in soon here in the next few weeks.

- Remember the girl I talked about in our last post a few weeks ago, who woke up our friend at 5 AM and told him that she had no pants? Well, he came across her again a few days ago. She was topless, sitting in a stream in her underwear, playing a ukelele. And much to his chagrin, she remembered him! 😂 Not exactly a meet cute.

- Though there are definitely some eccentric people out here, 95% of the hikers and people we meet are wonderful. We have met the most incredible people as we hike, and are grateful to have made some good friends. They say that trauma bonds you, and all of the hikers have similar trauma out on trail 😂. We all know how hard this is, how beautiful, and have experienced first hand the heavy packs we carry after filling up our food and water, and the different aches and pains that accompany hiking day after day. Ive seen some pretty gnarly feet 🦶among the hikers out here, covered in blisters and cuts, with blackened toenails and foot fungus. Our feet are constantly getting beaten up! I’m glad to know that it isn’t just us experiencing the aches and pains. Ive always been a bit of a social butterfly, and after a year of isolation due to the Covid pandemic, the extrovert in me is absolutely loving the social aspect of our hike.

We will be getting off trail for four days this next weekend to go to a family wedding and sadly, a funeral as well. We were saddened to hear that Landon’s Grandfather has passed away, after suffering from Alzheimer’s for many years in the last years of his life. I never knew him before the Alzheimer’s had affected him, but I was told that he was smart as a whip, very funny, and a great story teller. Landon has fond memories of his grandfather, going on family trips and hearing his many stories. Even after the disease progression, Arlin was a very sweet and gentle man who was happy to give you a hug and listen to you talk, even if he didn’t quite remember who you were. We feel very lucky to have been able to spend some time with him and with Landon’s Grandmother the week before the trail, and he will be greatly missed by all. We are looking forward to getting off trail for a few days to reunite with our family to both celebrate and mourn together.

Thanks to everyone for the love and support in our PCT journey so far, this has been the most incredible experience of our lives so far and we’re grateful for every second, no matter how tough, of this great adventure.

- The Tueller’s