#each other that’s boring. But you know what they need? One of those community bottle episodes where everyone’s secrets get revealed

[cabeswaterdrowned]

Blue’s reaction to Gansey’s rain spattered shoulders… and although he knows she knows he’ll die he does not know why specifically this would trouble her so much…(they should have an actual conversation about it in the book and it’s very stupid that they don’t but that’s just a complaint I have about almost every thread in this book so.)

[joelalorian]

Petals of Affection - Part I

A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

I know enough about flowers to fill a thimble. Really, all I know is how to kill them, accidentally or otherwise. Everything to do with the flowers in this story is courtesy of Google, so please suspend disbelief at how some of these could exist in Wyoming, yada yada. I just picked ones that fit the narrative.

Word count: 4,284

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, humor, cursing, gratuitous use of poor floral descriptions, scheming, clueless reader, fluff, eventual smut, alcohol, food, coffee, terms of endearment. POV flops around like a fish outta water. Reader has no physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

Hope you enjoy!

Part II | Part III | Masterlist

An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.

Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.

Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.

Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.

Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.

“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.

“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”

“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.

“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.

Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”

Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”

“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.

“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.

Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”

Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.

“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”

“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.

You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”

You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.

The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.

Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.

The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.

“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”

Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”

“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”

Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”

Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.

“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.

“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”

Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.

Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.

“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.

Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.

“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”

Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.

Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”

Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.

Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”

The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”

Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.

You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.

The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.

Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.

Did you even like this guy?

Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.

In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?

No, you guessed it really didn’t.

These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.

A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.

Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

What did it mean?

Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.

Who in the world left this for you?

Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?

Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.

You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.

Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”

Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.

“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”

Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.

“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”

Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.

Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.

Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.

How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?

Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.

A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.

Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.

You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.

Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?

Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.

God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.

Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.

Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.

Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?

The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?

As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.

The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.

Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.

“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”

You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.

“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”

“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.

Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”

“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.

“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.

“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”

“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”

Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.

Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.

Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?

One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.

You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.

 Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”

Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.

“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”

“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”

“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.

“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”

“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”

Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.

Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”

“Right?”

“What do today’s flowers mean?”

“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.

Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”

Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”

Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”

tbc

[silverofthunder]

☆ no more pretending ☆

Papa Emeritus II (Secondo) x GN Reader

🔞 MDNI 🔞

summary: It was supposed to be just letting out some steam whenever you needed – just sex – but fate had another plans and things got a bit complicated.

content: 1.6k words, sex mentioned, hurt/comfort (kind of?), romance, just feelings, NSFW (kind of)

What can I say? Hmm, this is quite similar to my other fic called stay with me but I love this idea, setting, whatever this is, and I just had to write about this again.

It was supposed to be just letting out some steam whenever you needed. Just sex – a mutual understanding that this would lead nowhere on emotional part. It was as easy as breathing. You loved how you two could just meet and tell what you needed with one look and then the next moment you were tangled together, exploring each other's bodies, every coherent thought leaving from your minds.

But of course fate decided to intervene and eventually it got complicated.

You noticed it when you were with someone else. Your thoughts drifted off to Secondo and how everything felt with him and you couldn't shake those thoughts away no matter how hard you tried. And then you just couldn't let anyone else touch you the way Secondo had done.

You got confused and frustrated, scared even. Secondo noticed the change in you soon but he didn't say anything. And you tried to continue like you had before.

However it didn't feel the same anymore, your heart aching for something else – something deeper. You tried to deny it, telling yourself that it would pass but slowly, surely, the ache just grew and being around Secondo became hard.

The only thing you could do was take a step back and keep your distance. You just couldn't let Secondo know how things had changed. There was no way he shared those feelings that had blossomed within you.

Days went by, turned to weeks and you did your best at avoiding Secondo. Not every meeting could be avoided but you tried to keep everything as short and quick as possible, professional, using every will power you had to keep yourself from breaking.

And eventually Secondo had had enough. After one meeting he stopped you from leaving the room, pinning you against the wall, eyes boring into you hard. Your heart hammered in your chest as he asked for an explanation.

The words were completely stuck in your throat and you just stared at him, silently pleading him not to do this.

"Please."

That word sounded so strange coming from Secondo yet it had so much emotion that your heart missed a beat. The look in Secondo’s eyes was almost... hurt and your breath hitched as his hands gently cupped your face.

"I miss you."

It was getting too much, all the bottled up emotions mixing and the tears threatened to come. You blinked rapidly as Secondo caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for an answer. If you only had let yourself get lost in his eyes, you would have drowned immediately.

It was new, the way he was acting now. Your steamy couplings had always been so hurried that there hadn't been much talking or softness. It had been rough, bruises, nail scrapes and teeth marks on the skin as you had chased the highest pleasure. And when you had finished, you just had quickly put on some clothes and left to mind your own business.

You knew Secondo wasn't just collected, stoic or rough around the edges – you had seen his softer side whenever he was around children or his brothers. And he had always been kind to you. But this felt different.

You were so used to the less talking, more action thing that you were lost now that you had to use words to communicate. It was much easier to understand the language of bodies – it was simpler and the bodies knew how to respond to the other.

Secondo's fingers brushed close to your lips, making you gasp, and it would be so easy to just forget the words and just fall onto bed and become a tangled mess. Secondo was still waiting for you to say something, his latest words hanging in the air.

"I'm sorry," was all you got out eventually and then you broke free from Secondo’s hold. He didn't try to stop you and you left, hurrying to your quarters. As soon as you got inside, you leaned against the door, slid down to sit on the floor and finally let the tears fall free.

...

A week later there was a small festival held and you didn't feel like going there. You had barely slept as your mind had been racing due to all thoughts and your heart felt heavy in your chest. However, a conversation with Primo changed your mind and you attended the festival. It was nice for most part but it was hard seeing Secondo there, looking all handsome and fulfilling his duties like he was meant to do.

At some point Terzo had come to you, mumbling something about two idiots, and taken a hold of your hand and basically dragged you to one of Primo's greenhouses. You were left standing there completely dumbfounded until Secondo was also brought in.

Then there was a clicking sound of a lock and Copia's familiar voice heard from behind the door.

"It's about time you two speak and pull your head out of your asses."

Your and Secondo’s eyes met and you shifted, nervous. Secondo let out a sigh, stepping closer to you and you drew in a sharp breath. You couldn't help but notice how tired and tense he looked. Your heart ached and you almost reached out to touch him.

However, Secondo thought otherwise and closed the distance between you, stepping right into your personal space and cupping your face. You breathed in and out, slowly, trying to calm your now racing heart.

"I guess it's time for us to stop pretending," Secondo said, slowly running his fingertips along the side of your face. His voice was thick with emotion, eyes shining softly in the dim light.

"What?" you whispered, even though you had a good hunch of what Secondo was talking about. He slid his other hand down, stopping it onto your chest, right where your heart was.

"We both have been fools as we thought that there would never be any feelings involved. But there is, has always been," Secondo spoke, leaning closer to you. "At least on my part."

You blinked, not sure if you had heard right. It couldn't be...

"I..." you started but didn't know what to say. Secondo gave you the tiniest of smiles, brushing his thumb over your lips.

"I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner," he apologized. "But I've never been good at voicing my feelings."

You let out a light chuckle. That was something you both were equally bad at, or so it seemed. Slowly you moved your hand up, placing it onto Secondo’s chest. Butterflies were fluttering in the bottom of your stomach, your heart filling with warmth and a smile rose to your lips as a thought came to your mind.

"Perhaps you can show me how you feel."

Secondo's smile grew, the fondness and relief evident on his face.

"That I can certainly do," he said quietly and closed the gap between you, claiming your lips. The kiss was anything but hurried – there was gentleness, hesitation as if you could break if he was too rough. It was slow, giving you both time to taste each other, feel everything, convey all the feelings you had no words for now.

Secondo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close to him as he could and your hands grabbed his upper arms as he deepened the kiss. It felt like your knees could give out at any minute and you were lucky Secondo was holding you so tightly. Your heart was full, the ache now gone, replaced by the most beautiful warmth you had ever felt.

Something wet fell to your cheeks soon and you realized that you were crying. All the emotions were flooding out and you had to break the kiss so you could take a moment and breathe. Secondo was gently wiping your tears away, resting then his forehead against yours.

Silence fell between you, being comfortable this time. It was a lot to take in, this new closeness, the feelings you never thought would step in the picture. You slid your hands to Secondo's waist, breathing slowly in and out. Secondo placed a few kisses on your cheek, the sweet gesture making you smile and heart soar. It was scary to step into this new chapter in your relationship but you knew together you could learn to communicate differently, a better way.

"This is crazy," you eventually sighed, earning a small chuckle from Secondo. He pulled away, just a tiny bit so that he could look at you, affection shining in his eyes and at that moment you knew that you would never get tired of seeing that look.

"Well, I'm all in for this crazy ride," Secondo said smiling and your brows quirked up.

"Oh, are you sure?" you asked, teasing the man little. Secondo hummed, a grin passing his lips.

"As sure as I can be."

You brought your face closer to his, smiling.

"Good," you said and kissed him, short and sweet. When you pulled back, your expression changed more serious and you lowered your gaze, squeezing Secondo waist.

"I'm scared," you admitted quietly.

"I know," Secondo spoke softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug. "But I'm with you on every step of the way.”

You smiled against Secondo’s chest, wrapping your arms properly around him and listening his heartbeat, the sound of it strong and steady, calming.

Silence followed again and you just stood there in the middle of the greenhouse, embracing, for what felt like a small eternity. If that moment had been a part of a romance novel, there would have been many saccharine words used to describe it. Words that were so familiar to you on pages but didn’t sit well on your tongue yet.

But in time you knew that you would learn to speak of your love.

[wellplacedbanana]

I’ve seen a few posts recently talking about how important it is for us to share our tips for dealing chronic illness with each other, and I’ve realized that as a freakishly avid community enthusiast, I’ve been falling down on the job. So, I present

Wellplacedbanana’s Ridiculously Long List of Tips for All Things Chronic Illness (Curated Over 8+ Years):

Infusion Centers

Headed to an infusion center to get that sweet sweet (expensive as hell) live-saving medication pumped directly into your veins? Here’s what I do.

Bring headphones or earplugs. Most infusion centers try to maintain a semblance of quiet for the patients, but it can get loud fast—beeping IVs, pulse ox monitors, loud families, codes. Some infusion centers do pods of multiple people and some do individual bays, so this can affect noise levels.

Drink lots of water before if you have to get an IV placed. Don’t worry too much about bringing a water bottle because they’ll give you one when you get there. (Of course, if you have something like POTS and need more intense hydration, bring the damn water bottle.) If you’re not hydrated and they can’t find a vein, they’ll call in the ultrasound tech, and they’ll bring the longest IV needle you’ve ever seen. It hurts. Drink water.

Bring a book or your Switch or something else to entertain you, but don’t expect to actually do it. I tried bringing papers to edit the first time because I was like “Oh it’s an hour and a half of uninterrupted free time. I can get so much done!” I was wrong. The nurses are constantly checking in for vitals, the unit can be loud, and I spent the whole time trying not to vomit everywhere. Different infusions will have different side affects. Knowing what yours might be will help you plan for what you want to bring. Knowing how long your infusion will be can also help. Most infusion centers have to keep you 20-45 minutes after your first dose of a new medication to make sure you don’t have an allergic reaction, so factor that into your time too.

If you’re in a pod with other patients who’re friendly and if you feel up to it, don’t be afraid to talk with them. Lots of them are lonely, bored, interested in other people, etc. I met an elderly Thai lady one time who had been there for three hours and would be there for another four AFTER I left. We talked about her husband and her kids, and she listened to me talk about punctuation as style in prose. It made me feel less alone in the medical system and helped distract me from the nausea.

Conversely, if you don’t want to interact with anyone, snap on those headphones and block everything out. The nurses will get your attention if they need you. Don’t worry about staying lucid. Your job is to get the infusion and do what’s best for you.

You can bring snacks if you want, but most units/centers will have something to munch on or can order you something from the cafeteria if you’re at a hospital. Also the medication and the smells in the unit always make me nauseous, so it’s kind of a waste for me to bother pulling together food before I leave. You can always eat before or plan to get something on the way back. Going through a drive thru to get something with protein is my go to.

If possible, schedule your next appointment while you’re there. I have to go every three months, so I schedule the next one while I’m there, and then I never have to make any fucking phone calls. Phone calls are the worst.

My last and most important tip: ask the nurses when you need something. Blankets, water, snacks, pain meds, the lights turned off. If they can’t do it, they’ll tell you. They’d rather have you ask and have to say no, then you be uncomfortable. Don’t suffer if there might be a solution.

Dealing with Shitty Doctors

There are shitty doctors everywhere, in every specialty and every hospital system. It sucks, and you can do your best to avoid them, but most chronically ill patients will have to put up with one at some point. Here are my suggestions:

If they’re refusing to acknowledge one of your symptoms is a problem (won’t order tests, won’t refer you out, won’t ask any questions), tell them it’s affect your Activities of Daily Living. ADLs are one of the ways doctors measure severity of symptoms and quality of life. ADLs are the absolutely essential things you need to do to be a functioning human: eat, shower, get dressed, brush your teeth. ADLs are a trigger word for most doctors. Physical therapists and occupational therapists were created specifically to help patients achieve their ADLs. If you’re having severe joint paint, say it’s affecting you’re ability to shower and dress in the morning. If you have intense fatigue, say you’re too tired all the time to cook food to eat or even brush your teeth before bed. Tell them your symptoms are affecting your quality of life and your ability to function daily. This won’t always work, but it’s a good starting place. (A side note: if you have have to submit an insurance appeal for something that was denied, citing ADLs as a reason to receive the treatment/medical equipment/doctors visit, will often spur them into action. Sometimes, it’ll just make them ask more questions, but questions are better than flat out denial. This was a very helpful tactic when I was trying to get my manual wheelchair approved. I told them I was unable to complete my ADLs and it was affecting my quality of life, and they eventually came around. It’s also important to remember that ADLs are only the most base tasks that you need to live. Driving, working, socializing—those aren’t included in ADLs, and insurance especially will laugh in your face if you try to say you need medical equipment for something like that.)

Lots of doctors, consciously or unconsciously, will judge how you’re actually feeling by your mood in an appointment. I had a pediatric neurologist who couldn’t be convinced that my pain was at an 8 because I would laugh with my mom in the waiting room. Eight months in, I started getting real quiet, not talking, crying when he talked, all that shit, and he was so fucking flummoxed. He was like “what changed?? Are you depressed??” And I had to remind him that I was thirteen with a severe shoulder inure that hurt every time I breathed. Doctors will judge you based on how you look and how you present. It’s horrible, but it’s true. Present to them in the way that represents what they’d expect to see for your symptoms.

Whatever you do, don’t say anything (or send any snappy messages) that might be considered aggressive until you are absolutely, 100% positive you will never ever have to see them again. I’ve had a few doctors that said ridiculously horrible things to me. It’s tempting to send them a message about how shitty they’ve been or how much they’ve hurt you, but it won’t help. Shitty doctors have fragile egos and they don’t like to be challenged. They won’t take this well, and they’ll mark you as attention seeking, emotional, mentally unstable—you name it. When your other doctors call to ask questions about symptoms, etc, they’ll start talking shit, and everything gets complicated. This might sound dramatic to anyone who hasn’t seen it happen, but honestly, the medical system abuses emotion and mental illness to discard patients that aren’t afraid to advocate for themselves, and this is one of the least immoral ways they do it.

Remember that you don’t owe your doctors anything (except basic human decency). If they ask you to do something and you can’t or don’t want to, don’t. My psychiatrist was really fixated on me getting a light box to cure my depression. I did Not want to do that, so I didn’t. Sometimes, your doctors won’t move on to further treatment or tests until you try it, but most of the time you can say, “that’s not something I’m able to do right now. Let’s explore further options,” and they’ll move on.

Remember that learning to advocate for yourself takes years of practice. Just do your best, and try not to blame yourself for the ways you get mistreated. Therapy is the best investment I’ve ever made for this. It’s helped me learn how to advocate and how to process medical trauma.

Medication

For gods sake, take the as needed medication when you have a migraine or if you’re nauseous. Don’t punish yourself.

This might seem like a no brainer, but if you’re traveling and you’re going to take your medication bottles with you, put them in a ziplock bag. They will definitely open in your suitcase, and you’ll have to pick Levothyroxine out of your socks.

If a medication gives you icky side effects, tell your doctor and ask if there’s something that doesn’t do that. For me personally, it’s hard to find medication that works at all, so I often get stuck with things that make me feel like shit. But it doesn’t hurt to ask. Sometimes new medications come out or they dig up old ones.

Some medications come in dissolvable tablets or suppositories. They’re not fun, but if you have trouble swallowing pills, this is a good way to go. Again, communicate with your doctor about these things. I know that there are Scopolamine patches for nausea too. I’ve never used them before, but it might be worth looking into if need easy nausea relief.

All Things Wheelchair

Man, wheelchairs suck, but they’re also amazing. If you find yourself using one, you’ll encounter a steep learning curve.

If you’re not super buff when you first start, it’ll seem impossible to go up even a slight incline. Your arms will get stronger the more you move around, but it might take time. I eventually bit the bullet and started doing personal training. I’m lucky that I can afford it, and I know it’s not an option for everyone, but if you can, find a trainer who won’t saying anything shitty and who’s willing to accommodate. I worked with a queer-owned gym to find someone I was comfortable with. We do upper body strength training, and it gives me a chance to move my body more often. I still can’t go up big hills, but I feel infinitely more mobile. Give yourself time to adjust to the new strain on your body, even if you don’t do training for it. You’ll be sore in the beginning. Ice and heat will be your friends after long days. If your wrists start hurting a lot, you’re not wheeling correctly, and you should ask your doctor for a referral to PT or OT. Oh and your hands will be fucked for the first few weeks. I bought special wheelchair gloves to try to combat this, but it just made it harder for me to maneuver. Now I only use the gloves if it’s cold, if I’m going down hills, or in the rain/snow. (But seriously, if you’re going down steep hills, use traction gloves.)

Learn to pop a wheelie as soon as possible. It’s such a helpful skill. If you get good enough, you’ll be able to get up over single steps and traverse shitty pavement.

If your wheelchair has a cushion, then it has a cushion cover. Wash it.

Time for the grossest part: cutting hair out of your caster wheels. I hate this. I hate it so much. It’s fucking disgusting, but you have to do it. It’ll fuck up your wheels and make it harder to maneuver. Also it’s just gross to have all that nasty hair hanging out by your feet. Get yourself a long pair of thin scissors and cut all that hair out every week or every two weeks. If you don’t have long hair or live with people who have long hair, then you might be able to wait longer. You should also sanitize your hand rims while you’re at it. Hand sanitizer or Clorox wipes are great for this.

You’ll notice that it’s fucking impossible to carry shopping baskets or suitcases if you use a manual chair. Some people try to balance them on their laps or wedge them onto their footplates, but it’s pretty precarious. I got these weird peg things that attach to the frame. You can place a basket or your bag on it and still keep your hands free. Here’s the link for the ones I got, but it depends on your make and model, so do some research and call some different companies before buying anything. Also, make sure to measure the distance between the two sides of your frame to make sure a basket will be able to balance on the two pegs. Your frame might be too wide for this. Mine is, but I bought a special basket to take to the store that’s wide enough to reach across.

Lots of people will offer to push you. Some won’t even offer; they’ll just grab on and take you in whatever direction. It’s insanely invasive and dehumanizing. Don’t be afraid to put on your breaks if someone does this. I can stand and take small steps, so sometime I just get up and stare at them. You can also buy covers for your handles that have spikes so people can’t grab them. I know some wheelchair users who like it when people offer to push them. That’s good too! Take the help if you want it. Just remember to prioritize your safety and comfort. I had a big debate with another disabled person about whether it was infantilizing for someone to offer to hold open the door for us. I’m firmly on the side that they can offer, and I can say no, and they can listen, and then we can both appreciate the moment of shared humanity between us. They did not agree. Disabled people fight and disagree all the time because we’re not all carbon copies of each other. That’s okay! Just be respectful.

Getting a customized manual wheelchair was one of the single most stressful things I had to deal with. Insurance doesn’t like to pay for them because it’s about 3-12k, depending on the specifications and add-ons. But it’s also been the most liberating thing I’ve done since getting my mobility stripped from me. I’m not sure how it works for everyone, but I got a referral from my doctor to a custom wheelchair company. From there, they took measurements, discussed needs, and showed me different models. It’s going to be really really difficult to know what you want the first time. There’s a lot of different brands and customizations, so do your research and talk in depth with whoever’s making your chair. Ultra lite rigid frames are my favorite because they’re usually only 15-40 pounds, and the wheels can come off to make it even lighter. However, rigid frames don’t fold together in the middle like classic manual wheelchairs that you might find at a hospital or get at a rental company. They can be difficult to fit in the backseat of a car or in some trunks, so make sure to measure any cars you ride in regularly. Some people prefer to have tilted wheels so they can turn easier. Some people don’t want anything to do with that. Depending on your mobility and the people in your life, you might choose not to add push handles to your chair. I added some to mine because I often get dizzy, and it’s helpful to have handles in case I need someone to push me out of the crosswalk or into the shade. People who are highly independent and extremely strong might not want push handles because they won’t need help up steep hills. I like my handles a lot; however, my chair back is shorter than a standard wheelchair because it helps increase range of motion when I’m wheeling, so my push handles are lower than normal, and anyone who wants to push me has to hunch a bit to reach. Again, do your research and talk to your rep before making final decisions. Some companies will let you test out the chairs they have on hand to see what you like. It’s important to work with a wheelchair company you really like because you’re literally putting you life in their hands. I’ve had better luck with smaller, locally-owned companies, but you can’t always get referrals there, and not every town has them. Here’s my tip to you: Numotion sucks ass. Avoid them. My branch of Numotion seems to be an outlier; I’ve had really good experiences with them. But most of the time, its impossible to get ahold of anyone, their hours are few and random, and their customer service reps are rude. But! After you’ve completed your order form—gotten measurements and found customizations—they’ll submit it to insurance. This is the tricky part. I went through four appeals, before I got mine approved. Luckily, I had insurance through my mom’s job, and after the last appeal, her company told the insurance that they had to pay for it. This won’t be the case with everyone. Be diligent with your appeals. Have your doctors write specific, clear letters about why you need it, including information about all the customizations and add-ons. It’s likely that they’ll only pay for the base chair, and you’ll have to pay out of pocket for any extra things. Another note: most insurance companies will only pay for a new chair once every five years (if they approve the first one at all), so be sure that the chair you pick out will work for you for at least the next five and a half years.

I had an advisor in college tell me something devastating once: there is no AAA for wheelchairs. I’d broken a caster wheel and gotten stuck on a university sidewalk in 102 degree heat, and she was telling me about her own experiences getting stranded after one of her tires popped. She’s right; if you’re wheelchair breaks, you’re stuck wherever you are without any backup. Carry your phone with you. Tell your friends or family where you’re going before you leave. Familiarize yourself with the wheelchair repairs shops in your area. Sometimes places like bike shops will be able to help you fix smaller things. I always carry an Allen wrench with me in case I need to take a part off. And don’t worry; you’ll find that if something does go wrong, people are far more willing to help than you’d expect. One of the sculpture professors in the art department found me that day and went back to his workshop to get all his tools. He brought me water and sat in the sun while he tried to fix my wheel, and when he couldn’t, he offered to drive me wherever I needed to go. This man was a tenured professor with a prestigious MFA, and he was running late for a party where he was supposed to be handing out awards. You’ll find lots of good people when things inevitably go to shit.

Going along with the last point, your wheelchair will break, and you will have to send it into the shop to get repairs. If you can, invest in a cheap manual chair that you can use in emergencies. If you live with other people, you can buy a transport chair for cheaper, but you’ll need someone around to push you because it won’t have hand rims.

If you’re new to wheelchair use, give yourself space to feel all the emotions. When I first started, I had been using an office chair(!) to get around. My mom would push me from my bed to the bathroom and then back to bed while we waited to get a rental. I was so relieved when I got my own chair that I pushed everything else down. It took months to allow myself to be sad about all the things I couldn’t do anymore and be angry about all the inaccessible infrastructure that America has. Don’t push it down. Talk to a therapist or find people in the community to discuss it with. (If I choose to talk about my frustrations with friends, I always start with “I need to vent right now, and I’m grateful you’re willing to listen to me, but I’m not looking for any solutions to this at the moment,” or “can you give me some suggestions to work around these things that are frustrating me?” This gives my friends insight into what I need, instead of making them guess. It keeps us both from getting frustrated, and I highly suggest it, especially if you or your friends have trouble navigating social situations/expectations.)

Hand Controls

Hand controls are great option for your car if you’re unable to use your feet to drive. I got mine about a year back, but it was tricky and really confusing at first.

First thing you need to know: you can’t get hand controls without a prescription from a specialist. Usually a certain type of occupational therapist. You can look up driving rehab OTs in your area, but there aren’t many of them, and lots of the time you’ll have to drive several hours to see one. There’s usually a long wait list as well. (And of course, a lot of them don’t take insurance.)

If you’re able to find someone who’s certified, they’ll do an intake appointment and assess your physical abilities and needs. Sometimes, they’ll do the assessment and decide you aren’t fit to use hand controls. This can be for a multitude of reasons, including impaired mental cognition and slow reaction time, issues with hand or arm mobility, or there might be a better way to adapt a car for you. Again, it varies greatly on the person, and I’m not an OT, so I don’t know all the ins and outs. If you pass the assessment, and they view you got to drive with hand controls, you’ll be required to do a certain amount of training where you practice using different equipment. Some OTs will know what you need to use right away, and others will have you try different things out to see what fits best. There’s a lot of types of hand controls and a lot of adaptations that can be done to a car, so it really depends on the person. My training was only about 15 hours (plus independent driving practice), but it’ll depend on whether this is your first time ever driving, if you’ve driven without hand controls before, and if you have any other medical issues that might make it hard for you to adapt. Once you’ve completed the training and received your certificate from the OT, they’ll write a prescription to send to a shop that does specialty car adaptation. Kind of like wheelchairs, the shop you go to is very important. Ask your OT if they have any favorites in the area. Insurance never covers this, and some shops will way overcharge you if you’re not careful. My hand controls were about 3k out of pocket, but it was definitely worth it. It would’ve been a lot more to add other adaptations like a lift or a ramp, but sometimes you can buy used accessible vans for cheaper than adding it to your own car. Something to know: you’re usually able to turn your hand controls on and off. So if your friend needs to borrow your car, or you need to let a mechanic test drive it, you can disable to hand controls and allow someone else to use the foot pedals as normal.

Overall, it’s a very long, very expensive process, so plan ahead and be prepared to wait and pay.

Navigating Raising a Kid with Chronic Illnesses

I don’t have any kids, but my mom was my sole caretaker growing up, and I can offer you some of her thoughts. You have to remember that no matter what age your kid is, chronic illness is an impossible thing for them to deal with, and yet they have to deal with it anyways. Sometimes, there’s no good way to comfort a child who’s in 10/10 pain, or who’s about to undergo a life-altering procedure. All you can do is your best. Communicate. Offer support. Give affection. Make your love unconditional. I was a very angry teenager. I was angry with my mom that she couldn’t fix it, and I was angry with my doctors for the way they treated me. There were days where I would yell and sob and refuse to take my meds, and there where days where I would stare at the wall and not respond to anything. It drove my mom up the wall. She’s used to fixing things, and this was one of those things she couldn’t even help. I know she stills holds a lot of guilt for this, but she shouldn’t. She did her best. You’re doing your best too. You can’t fix everything. That being said, here are her suggestions:

Therapy, therapy, therapy. They might hate it, but some day, they’ll thank you. Remember that not every therapist is right for every patient. If your kid wants to switch to a different therapist, let them. It’s better than them sitting and not speaking the whole session.

Lots of kids with developing rare undiagnosed diseases will go through this vicious cycle where they get a new symptom, get sent to a specialist, get dismissed, and then develop a new symptom and start the process all over again. It’s not easy. My mom was a fan of throwing Pity Parties. Every once in a while, when the grind of it all started making us feel hopeless, she’d take me to the store and say, “pick out snacks and drinks. We’re going to throw a pity party, gorge on sugar, watch Lord of the Rings, feel bad for ourselves, and tomorrow, we’ll dust ourselves off and try again.” It helped. It was good to know that sometimes you can let life feel unfair, and it was even better to know that the next day it would be easier to try again.

A lot of being chronically ill as a kid is getting decisions stripped from you and having unexpected negative experiences. My mom would try to do spontaneous things every once in a while to remind me that not all surprises are bad. Instead of driving straight home after school one Friday, she took me to Starbucks without saying anything. After an MRI, she stopped at an art fair and let me pick out a necklace. We would go to the library after I spent the day in the hospital. Sometimes, she’d call my aunts while I was at school to come over and play card games on the weekends. And she was really big on giving me choices in everything. She never made me agree to new (non-lifesaving) treatment. Ever. If she really wanted me to do it, we’d talk it over and come to an agreement that made us both happy. Sick kids are forced into adulthood early; they know how to make calculated, logical decisions when needed. Let them be a part of their own healthcare. (They should also be given the chance to make rash, stupid decisions that have no bearing on their health.)

Keep track of everything. Doctors, meds, ER visits, PT exercises, diets they’ve tried for GI issues, everything about the surgeries they’ve undergone. Some day, you’ll need it. Or your kid will grow up into a chronically ill adult, and they’ll need it.

Talk to their school counselor about getting a 504 or IEP. Even if they’re not struggling. I was a super academically minded kid; I didn’t struggle to understand new concepts or complete homework correctly. But eventually it became hard for me to attend class and finish assignments. Having an IEP saved me. 504s are a lot easier to get (a lot less paperwork, less testing, less pushback from admin), but they’re not legally binding. If you want something concrete and all-encompassing, go for the IEP. IEPs are also really helpful when trying to get accommodations in college. You can also start with a 504 and switch to an IEP later. While we’re on the subject of school: remember that education is important, but school is not the end all be all of your child’s life. What should matter the most to you is that they end up safe and happy. I didn’t graduate high school; I took a proficiency test my junior year and dropped out. It was the best choice I could’ve made at the time, but it was still tough for my mom. I ended up going to college, and now I have a pretty solid job, but every kid will be different. Their mental and physical health is the most important. School is a huge huge huge stressor. Don’t make it harder for them than it already is.

Dating

God dating sucks enough on its own, but adding in chronic illness and disability just makes it a shit show. I don’t have a lot to offer on this other than you shouldn’t settle for anyone who doesn’t respect you, treat you with love and compassion, and accept every part of you for what it is. People will say rude shit. They’ll be nasty, fetishizing, infantilizing, dismissive. Some won’t be able to put up with all the things that come along with being ill. I sound like a broken record, but find a good therapist who can help you voice your needs and expectations clearly. Remember that you never have to go on a date if you don’t want to. Participate as you see fit. Throw it all out if you want.

I don’t have enough time to go into my tips for intimacy/sex and disability, but I’ll give you the highlights.

Communicate. Make it very clear what you’re able to do, what you’re interested in doing, and what you don’t want.

There are lots of ways to have sex. If you’re both having fun, being safe, and engaging consensually, then you’re doing it right. Don’t let abled bodied people tell you the way it should be done. There are lots of accessibility friendly toys to invest in, too.

As weird as it might sound, don’t be afraid to take breaks. Keep water near by. If you have POTS, keep salt or electrolyte tablets on hand. If you have to stop to vomit or go to the bathroom, don’t let it shame you. Go at your own pace and take care of your body.

Misc

Having seizures on a college campus: Most universities have a policy that if you lose consciousness while on campus, they have to call an ambulance. You are not required to ride in the ambulance. You can decline, and the paramedics will make you sign a form before leaving. If you’re still actively having seizures, then they’ll take you anyways, but you probably won’t be in any shape to try to decline. If you’re having seizures regularly, tell your professors. It’ll freak them the fuck out, so warn them ahead of time. It makes the whole thing a lot less awkward when you collapse in the aisle during a lecture. Related to that: communicate with your professors about all your accommodations and emergency health needs. They really honestly appreciate it when you talk to them about this stuff. Even if they have a big class and don’t remember you, it’s good to send them an email and introduce yourself. Hopefully, you’ve also talked to your college’s Disability Resource Center. If not, go do that. Now. (There’s a whole lot of shit that I have to say about campus accessibility and disability resource centers, but I’m not gonna go into it right now.) Also, wear your medical alert bracelet. I know they suck, but it sucks more for someone to be digging through your pants pocket while you’re seizing to try to find your wallet. And keep your emergency contact info pinned up somewhere in your dorm. I used to put mine on the fridge and point it out to my roommates at the beginning of term. It can take a while for RAs to pull yours up, so it’s best to make sure it’s easily accessible.

Remember that you do not function like a normal person. There is no wrong way to solve one of your problems. If you need to put a stool in your bathroom to sit at while you brush your teeth, do it. I got an extra tall stool to sit at while I cook at the stove because my wheelchair is too short. (Cooking in a wheelchair is another thing I could talk about forever.) If you need to wear a sleep mask on the bus because the light makes your migraine worse, do it. People can look at you funny all they want. Like I said, I rolled around my house in an office chair while I waited for a rental wheelchair. What I’m trying to say is find things that work and implement them, even if they’re non traditional.

Here’s what I pack in my bag for an ER visit: headphones, phone charger, book, zofran, Naproxen, water bottle, wallet with cash, socks, and sleep mask to block out the waiting room lights. If I’m expecting to be admitted, then I’ll pack more, but I try to keep it light if it’s just triage and a visit with the ER doctor. Sometimes I’ll stuff a granola bar or some almonds in there too.

My biggest tip for surviving hospital stays is to get out of your room (if possible). Go on walks around the unit. Some hospitals have little courtyards patients can sit in. If you’re in peds, go visit the rec room, even if it’s awkward. Their activities are usually meant for the younger kids, but it can be fun to connect with other people your age, and you’ll thank yourself later when you’re stuck in bed at 3am. Also, tell your friends to come visit you. Not everyone will be able to, but most people are happy to come hang out for an hour or two. It’ll help; I promise.

Clean your room every few weeks. Dear god, clean your room. I have trouble with executive functioning and finding energy to do housekeeping type stuff, but I get more depressed when my room is gross. So clean your room. Especially if you have hypersomnia/sleep excessively.

Don’t force yourself to use a pill organizer. I know everyone says it makes it easier, but I get overwhelmed when I have to refill it, and then I just don’t end up taking my meds. If it doesn’t work for you, don’t do it. If it does, then do it!

Don’t buy the self help books your therapist recommends unless you’re actually interested in reading them. It’ll just sit on your shelf and make you feel guilty for not being good enough.

Mental illness is tightly bound to physical illness. Try to be an active listener in your body. Sometimes, when I’ve been feeling really nauseous, my PSTD symptoms will get triggered over nothing, and it’ll frustrate the fuck out of me because it seems like it’s happening over nothing. I try to track when my emotional state is worse to see if it’s correlated to my physical symptoms. This helps curb the frustration and guilt. Sometimes it makes me dissociate more. It’s a balancing act. Just do your best.

Hobbies are so so so important. Make sure to give yourself time to work on them! And there are a million ways to adapt the activities you love if you’re having trouble, so don’t afraid to do some research. I know they have crochet hook grips for people with arthritis or loose grips, and there are super intense magnifying glasses for people who like to cross stitch and are having trouble seeing the tiny ass holes. I have a color blind friend who sends us pictures of paint to see if it’s the shade he wants. Very occasionally, you’ll come to the conclusion that there’s a hobby you can’t adapt. Let yourself be sad. I can’t hike anymore and it sucks. I can’t go tide-pooling either, and its not like if I just work really hard I’ll be able to do it some day. Life is shit, and sometimes you have to let things go. Be angry, be sad, tell people to fuck off if they try to turn you into inspiration porn, but also remember that there are lots of other cool things out there to try.

Going along with the hobby thing: take the time to learn ASL if you’re having trouble with your hearing or if you often go nonverbal. One of my friends had to get hearing aids last year, and we offered to learn with them, but they were hesitant because it feels like a non necessity to them. Something selfish that would take up all our time. If you think it’ll help, you should grant yourself the time to learn. Capitalism makes us think that we shouldn’t engage in activities unless we gain money or power from them, but that mindset will kill you. Your life will be infinitely easier if you learn ASL online with your partner or friends or siblings.

Look up Spoon Theory. It’s not a helpful metaphor for everyone, but most people in the community talk about it, so it’s good to be familiar with it.

Don’t be afraid to go out and find community! Find support groups, look up wheelchair sports if you’re into getting sweaty, brave the awkwardness of starting conversations with other patients in the clinic. I’m wholly and completely of the idea that humans are innately good. There are lots of interesting chronically ill/disabled people who’re looking for connection. Insurance companies and other medical entities rely on us feeling isolated, alone, and uniformed to continue making money and hold power. It’s important that we share with and support each other.

I know a lot of this is basic stuff, but it’s helpful to have reminders, and if you’re new to the whole song and dance, then it’s nice to get a sneak peak. There are a million things I didn’t get to, but this was what was on the top of my brain.

Also, I’m not the collective voice of every chronically ill person in the world. My experiences are not yours and they’re not everyone else’s. What works for me, might not work for you. Be kind.

[roamwithahungryheart]

Look out! It's only part two of The Crimlette's bat mitzvah! (ft. Tedbecca)

Read the rest of Scenes From Another Life here.

Ira had repeatedly insisted all morning that it was going to rain, so it came as a pleasant surprise when the sun slowly crept out from behind the clouds as everyone filtered into the synagogue.

Henry walked in front of Ted, scanning the vast, intricate walls in awe. Formal occasions usually bored Henry. But this one was different - he didn’t have to wear a stiff, uncomfortable suit. He just had to look smart. 

Ted stopped Henry at the first row of pews and furrowed his brow. He waved at Trent and signaled him over. “Hey, uh, Trent? I don’t really know what the rules are - do we just sit anywhere or do you need us to go sit somewhere specific?”

Trent smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Ted. The synagogue may be Orthodox, but I’m not. Sit wherever you like.” He walked a few steps, then turned back to Ted, pulling his glasses down onto the bridge of his nose conspiratorially. “Please don’t tell my mother I said that.”

Ted held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Trent hurried off again, watching his parents fawn over Ruth and Batsheva. He smiled sadly to himself, remembering his own bar mitzvah and how proud his parents had been. They didn’t know then that their beloved son would end up having to come out twice in order for them to believe him. And a third time to Rabbi Kellner ‘just to make sure’, whatever that meant.

Trent was a skinny and anxious eighteen year old when he told him he no longer wanted to live the Orthodox lifestyle if it meant his parents wouldn’t accept him - if Rabbi Kellner wouldn’t accept him. This man had all but raised him alongside Helen and Ira. He was just as much a member of his family as anyone else, and the thought of being completely rejected terrified him. But Rabbi Kellner understood. Trent was forever grateful for that. 

It was then that Rabbi Kellner seemed to materialize out of thin air. He was relatively young when he’d started to serve the community, but he’d always looked older. Now, he looked ancient.

“Trent! Shabbat shalom. Is everyone ready?”

“The children, yes. The adults? No. I remember standing up there myself, now my niece is old enough to do it. Time flies.”

“Indeed it does.” Rabbi Kellner’s eyes softened. “I’ll go and tidy the bimah to give everyone a few more minutes to get ready.”

In the pews, Henry shifted in his seat and swung his legs a little. The creak of the wood made Ted very aware of his own movements. He still hadn’t quite shaken off the awkwardness of walking into Paul Welton’s funeral late, all eyes on him because of how loudly the door had shut behind him.

“Henry, come on now, hush your butt. Sit tight buddy.”

“Sorry Dad.”

Ted put an arm around his son and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “It’s okay. Just try and keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times.”

“You got it, Davy Crockett!”

“Ted?” 

His head jerked in a double take as he turned to see Rebecca leaning over their pew. As he looked at her, something rumbled inside him - and it definitely wasn’t Mae’s full English breakfast from an hour ago. As good as he was at bottling his emotions, sometimes his face betrayed him. This was, rather unavoidably,  one of those times. His face lit up as he greeted her - in fact, they both looked at each other with a great deal of warmth. It was as though no time had passed at all.

“Hey Rebecca! How the heck are ya?” 

In spite of how much her body had relaxed when he greeted her, her face was suddenly a little strained. “Good, thank you, Ted. You?”

“Yeah, good, yeah. Y’know, I don’t think you two have ever met - this is my son Henry.” He nudged Henry’s shoulder.

Henry shook Rebecca’s hand. “Nice to meet you Miss Welton.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, shooting Ted a surprised look. Ted bobbed his head a little, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Henry knew exactly who she was, even though they’d never met. Ted talked about her more than he was willing to admit. The fondness he held for Richmond had never faded. Coming back, even for just a few days, felt like coming home again.

A tall, bulky man appeared behind Rebecca, followed by a shy little girl. He pressed his palm to the small of Rebecca’s back, and she jolted.

“Oh, Ted, this is Matthjis.” She gestured between them. “Matthjis, this is Ted Lasso, my former colleague.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Matthjis’ handshake was firm. Perhaps a little too firm for Ted’s liking. “This is my daughter Jelka.” He gently pressed Jelka’s shoulders, encouraging her forward. She was fixated on Henry, obviously much more comfortable in the company of other children. Henry smiled back awkwardly.

“We should probably go and sit down, otherwise we’ll hold up the service.” Rebecca half-laughed.

Ted nodded. “Nice to see ya.”

Rebecca replied with a hum and headed off to the opposite pew with Matthjis and Jelka, who snuggled in between them. Ted couldn’t help casting a glance at the three of them. His face had fallen now. His palms were a little sweaty. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Henry studied his father’s face for a moment. He knew something was wrong, but didn’t ask what it was. He knew that sometimes it was better not to ask.

[lebihanto-universe-blog]

Be Irresistible, Click Here Long distance relationships also known as LDR's is when two people are dating from across a distance. This can be continents ... It's popular relieved that long-distance relationships never work out But sometimes absence does make the heart grow fonder and people learn to take their partners less for granted when they're not always around It's also worth noting that some couples far away from each other feel closer than couples who live with each other Because they're more willing to communicate their problems with one another. It all boils down to one word: Effort. Here's six tips on maintaining long-distance relationships 1. Give them a personal gift to hold on to. Before the two of you depart give each other something you can hold on to and remember one another by A few examples you may be inspired by include exchanging nightlights, stuffed animals, jewelry, hoodies or mugs What you decide to give your partner doesn't have to be big or expensive Instead focus on how the object has served to bring meaning into your life. 2. Set routines and learn about each other's schedules. Time zones can be tricky, but learn to appreciate the differences. This can teach you the value of patience and remind you that relationships don't thrive or grow from moments of instant gratification Once you and your partner gets settled in and adjust to your new lifestyles, let each other know about your schedules and routines Depending on how much of a difference your time zone is You may need to take turns accommodating to each other's availability to set up Skype dates or phone calls It may sound daunting But once the two of you figure out a rhythm that works for the both of you the rest will set sail. 3. Build trust and try not to jump to conclusions or assume the worst. Life can be unpredictable. So sometimes things come up such as family emergencies, working overtime or illness that may interrupt your usual communication patterns rather than worrying about whether your partner is cheating on you or if they've grown bored of the relationship and may be spending more time with their friends know that there's no actual proof or evidence to back up those anxious thoughts. Build trust with your partner and ask each other how you're feeling, rather than bottling up insecurity and making the walls bigger Getting answers directly from your partner is better than over analyzing and filling in those gaps yourself. 4. It's not about how often you talk to each other, instead, focus on quality communication. Consistent communication is important when the two of you are apart from each other, especially when the physical aspect of the relationship is absent But too much of it can also backfire and leave the two of you feeling smothered or burnt out rather than texting each other every hour of the day, find balance and moderation and focus on the quality of your conversations instead of how frequently the two of you talk You may come to find that the more you talk to each other the more you end up talking about the same things in circles Rather than delving into a meaningful conversation that makes you appreciate each other's intellect ideas and perspectives. 5. Make time to see each other, but know that every visit may not be ideal, and that's ok. When you visit each other you may want to make the best out of your time together and plan to do exciting things But we're all human so allow room for flexibility instead of perfection There may be times when you're exhausted from traveling back and forth and just want to stay in and watch a movie with your partner Or perhaps there's a delay in your flight that may bleed into your dinner reservations Doing fun activities and bonding with your partner is important but sometimes it's good to just play things by ear and go with the flow Remember it's about the company you're with and not necessarily what the two of you do 6. Embrace the challenges together. Long distance relationships are

difficult, but don't let the challenges tear you apart Instead embrace them together Sometimes your insecurities may get the best of you Consequently, you may believe the two of you would be better off breaking up and meeting new people Take a step back and think about why you held on for so long in the first place Whether the two of you are apart because you're going to different schools or because of a job promotion know that the long distance is only temporary and that you're working on yourselves before the two of you can be together again It's a common misconception to think that in order for relationships to work One person has to sacrifice their needs and desires for the other In reality, this is how relationships often break apart when people feel stifled and can't grow together Never lose sight of the big picture and don't give up! Have you ever been or are currently in a long-distance relationship? Do you have some tips on how to deal with one? Feel for to share your thoughts in the comments below If you like this video be sure to check out our website and other social media as well as our patreon account for more content And don't forget to subscribe. Thanks for watching! ...

[latex-corset]

so I'd like for this to be a diary

I am also deathly afraid of having a diary. You have one parent open up your sacred space at 16 and all of a sudden a decade and some change later, and you hate keeping a diary, even though it's the only thing that'll keep you sane. Sans therapy. I'd love to go to therapy again, but I hate paperwork.

Still, the things I am experiencing in my work as "queen of the demi monde" are unique. I'm not finding musings on homewrecking beyond the typical reddit posts about heartbroken couples, the "hey girl" instagram reels, and of course, the one person on fetlife who has discovered the epiphany of "as it's not my relationship, it's not my responsibility". I'm also finding a ton of people putting in the work to make the fantasy content, the clips, the pretense.

All of my feelings on homewrecking, as a typical proud and shameless homewrecker, are tied up in wanting to read T.M. Scanlon's "What We Owe To Each Other", procrastinating on a photoset I'm supposed to have to my client by tonight, and of course, at least three other submissives asking, vying, begging for my attention. I am not being given the time or space by anyone or anything to process my feelings on my session yesterday, which left my thighs sore, and my feelings in kind of the same spot. Hence, the online diary.

My sub seems to feel just as emotionally sore. Maybe it's drop for lack of aftercare (at their behest). It certainly isn't a development of romance, but it does feel like, for them, they took things a step too far. Our play, as real as it is in the context of their fantasies, somehow stepped too close to the reality. I wonder if they're actually sitting with the thoughts that they could in fact leave their wife happier. Not because they want to leave their wives for me, but because they feel as though they've settled into the trappings of middle class generic life. Vinyl plank flooring in the new houses and formica countertops. As much as I feel a weight, I can't imagine being stuck in a life between wanting a white picket fence and a wife and kids, and wanting latex and degradation. I tell them all the time that they can have both, that I know people in the community that have both. I have far too many clients who feel like it's impossible.

I even have clients who I watch go from single, to in relationship, to fucking around with me behind their brand new girlfriend's back. Yes, it is very hot and all that the vanilla girlfriend is inferior and blah blah blah, my tits, etc. Maybe even a year or two ago I took some small joy in feeling superior to thin, conventionally attractive women who found my clients in the tinder dating pool. But now I'm bored with it. I do in fact want what's best for everyone. I steer those clients towards going to a munch and meeting the lifestyle domme of their dreams, even if it means lightening my own pockets by taking them out of my income, and instead they search through bottle blondes with utah curls on bumble. Be for fucking real.

I'm terrible at taking a day off.

I would love to go to my hometown, to the lake, to throw my phone in the sand and swim and not think about anything. I don't even care for the generous and random and unprompted cashapp and venmo notifications that plague my ears at all hours of the night. Four years ago I would have been elated. I honestly wonder if I'm burnt out. Will a day off fix me? Do I need a week? What happens when I can't afford a day or a week off? I love this work. Will this work love me back in the ways where I can have it for another twenty years as planned?

I hope I sound relatable to someone who's having the same questions, months or years in the future. The nice thing about making an anonymous tumblr and not having to represent my brand is that I don't have to try to be funny or relatable on the internet. I'm cringe but I'm free. The writing is mediocre but it's honest.

[ragingbookdragon]

All The Small Things...That Show How Incredibly Pissed She Is

Batboys x Reader HC/Imagine

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Here's some humor for y'all at the end of the semester. Enjoy! -Thorne

Dick:

Dick wasn’t a fool. He might seem like that to some people, certainly anal-retentive supervillains and seasoned superheroes who weren’t particularly impressed by him, but even if he paraded a bit of thick-headedness (Batman’s influence) every now and then, Dick wasn’t a fool. And he sure as hell realized when she was angry at him.

Well, angry wasn’t the particular word. She wasn’t angry, and honestly, in the entire year they’d been dating, he’d yet to see what would even made her fume. But sure as shit, if she didn’t get annoyed at things, and right now, he knew it was at him. And really, the only reason he did realize it was because she didn’t stick a note in the thigh pocket of his suit before he left on patrol.

It was something foolish, she’d said when he came home and asked her about it the first time she did it. A simple little folded paper, the same kind that hung on their refrigerator for the grocery list. All it had said was, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee—good luck out there, Dickie!”. When he found it, he about busted himself at the seams from laughing so hard, but at the same time, he found it endearing that she had left it for him to find. That had been on a Friday night and every day of the week leading up to it, she put a piece of candy in his pocket, saving Fridays for the little notes. And this Friday he didn’t find a note—he knew she wouldn’t forget, and that was all the clue he needed that she wasn’t happy about something.

And so, to remedy it, he picked up a bottle of red wine and a dozen red roses—sue him he’s a romantic—ready to do whatever she wanted to fix what he’d messed up.

Jason:

He didn’t hate the color pink, but he didn’t wear it unless it was a particular occasion, or unless the shirt he liked was pink. Most of Jason’s outwear wardrobe consisted of black and blue jeans, dark and white shirts, combat boots, and leather jackets. His outfits screamed, “I’m the epitome of ‘Bad-Boy’.” And most of his leather jackets were dark, so he typically wore white or light gray shirts, so it didn’t blend.

They shared chores in the house—he cooked most nights, and she did laundry; they both cleaned the apartment. Jason looked in the dryer for a white shirt because it was white’s day the night before and found a whole load of white shirts that’d been dyed pink. Of course, at first, he thought it perhaps an innocent mistake, but when he pulled the load out and found a single red sock, Jason knew he was in the doghouse.

He pulled on a baby pink shirt and grimaced at how tight it felt on his body—so she was really mad because she must’ve washed these in hot water because they’d shrunk two sizes. The thought of asking what she was mad about crossed his mind, but he figured he’d be better off figuring it out on his own and fixing it rather than having her tell him.

Jason was a grown man; he could figure it out himself—the only bad thing was that Jason, in all his glory, was still a man—and boy did he have trouble telling what his lady was mad about sometimes. Ice-cream, he figured. Dutch Chocolate Ice-cream and bourbon was her go to when she was upset—hopefully, she wouldn’t throw his underwear in the wash before he got back from the store.

Tim:

He’d long grown used to being stared at, considering the fact that when he was a young child, and an academic prodigy at that, people liked to examine him like he was a lab rat. So, at first, her way of communicating that she wasn’t pleased with his course didn’t occur to him. Of course, when he finally turned his attention from his laptop screen and caught her cocked eyebrow and unimpressed look, Tim couldn’t stop the flush of crimson that split over the bridge of his nose as he babbled an apology.

She usually responded with a grunt of recognition, but it was anything but amused or interested. And he’d flash that dopey grin and kiss her knuckles until her eyes filled with humor rather than annoyance. And then he’d go back to his laptop and the process would start all over again when he finally realized she was boring holes in the side of his head.

The only time she wanted to prove she was mad at him was when she’d pull out her phone and do those stupid, “Which Member Of The Batfamily Are You?” and she’d do everything in her power to not get “Red Robin”, typically getting “Red Hood” because she knew it’d make his jealously bubble in his chest.

And then Tim would slam his laptop shut and toss her phone off the bed with it and yank her down onto his bed, coiling his arms and legs around her like a cage, while she giggled relentlessly and teased him about being “green with envy”.

So really, while it usually started with her being mad, it became a “How Much Can We Annoy The Other Before We Blow?” game—she was winning so far…much to his dismay…and love.

Bruce:

His wife was outspoken and independent, not ever once requiring help with any task. If she couldn’t figure it out herself, she’d cut her own foot off before asking him to do it for her, because she knew he took that little pride in doing what she couldn’t. Their marriage was built on a foundation of love, for each other, and for their family. But that third peg was absolutely competition, and by God they were gonna prove who was the winner before they both died of old age.

So, whenever she got mad at him for anything, it would be obvious that she would announce it—but oh no, see, when she got mad, she was passive aggressive about it and she waited for Batman to figure it out. And she typically showed her annoyance through clothing.

Her favorite way to piss Bruce off was to wear an emerald green t-shirt around the house that said, “My favorite superheroes wear green!” and the stupid graphic tee had Green Lantern and Green Arrow symbols all over it. And that sadisti—lovely witch did everything in her power to make him look at it—at her.

And Bruce knew her plan of showing her irritation was working because that maddeni—gorgeous smirk always crossed her lips when he glared—stared at her. He still didn’t know what she was mad about though. Her purpose only served to show she was upset with him—so much for the World’s Greatest Detective.

Unfortunately, Bruce knew the only way to appease her would be to submit to her the entire night and let her know that she was now in the lead for their competition. Darn…and he’d just leveled the score too, and now she was one ahead…again.

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story! 

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage. 

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

*

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.” 

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim. 

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?” 

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked. 

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.” 

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet. 

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back. 

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.” 

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush. 

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering. 

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead. 

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.” 

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder. 

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in. 

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?” 

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh. 

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.” 

[hwascripts]

What Izuku would be like in a relationship: The positive traits, the toxic traits, his love language, my own personal headcanons and an overall conclusion

WC: unknown

TW// POTENTIAL SPOILERS, No smut but Izuku is aged up, Toxic traits aren’t necessarily toxic...more so just bad traits, Teeny tiny little bit of angst, I think that’s it!

Masterlist

Disclaimer: I am in no way claiming the following headcanons are true. You are 100% free to disagree with me but please DO NOT send me hateful comments or asks. I am simply writing what I think Deku would be like in a relationship

a/n: Just to let you know, your nickname for him is Zuku just so you don’t think I kept spelling his name wrong.

-Deku is literally the kindest soul ever and it makes me want to cry. He’d give you his umbrella if you ever forgot yours, he’d literally carry you to first aid if you ever injure yourself- this man will legitimately do everything for you

-He’s incredibly observant. If he catches you looking at a pretty ring then he’ll literally show up at your door days later with that very same ring in his hands

“I saw you looking at it a few days ago and I wanted to surprise you!”

“Zuku baby oh my god how much did you spend?!”

“You don’t need to worry about it sunshine”

I wholeheartedly believe Izuku would call you his sunshine or something along those lines

-I have this one headcanon of him drawing you all the time as an excuse to “observe you and your quirk” but it’s really just because he wants to admire the way you shine underneath the sun- and that’s how he came up with the name Sunshine for you

-Deku has a heart of gold oh my god, this guy cares so much about you it’s unreal. Imagine trying to hide the fact that you’ve been crying while on a phone call- mission failed because he heard your shaky voice and now he’s on your doorstep with your favourite hoodie of his and your favourite snacks

-His memory is insanely good, like it’s freaky how good it is. Like you mentioned to him ONCE that you liked a certain drink and now he pulls up to your dates with that drink all the time (not like I’d complain if Deku brought me my favourite drink)

-Just like Bakugou, Deku is incredibly smart and he literally always comes up with a solution. You could literally vent to him about a problem you’re having at work and he’s come up with at least 73 solutions within 6 hours

-He’s determined and hardworking. Again, he’s just like Bakugou in the sense that he’ll put his blood, sweat and tears into whatever he’s doing- no matter if it’s a serious high stake mission or something like planning your weekly date. The second he puts his mind to something, he makes sure to give it his all.

-Izuku is your own personal cheerleader, this dude will hype you up no matter what. Training after work? he’s cheering for you. You completed a really difficult task? you better believe he’s gonna pat you on the back for it.

-He’s very protective of you. Remember when the LOV attacked the training camp and he rushed to find Kota? yeah he’s 10x more protective of you.

-And it’s not because he thinks you’re weak and can’t defend yourself, it’s because he genuinely worries about you all the time and just wants to make sure your always safe

-He’s an inspirational person, he makes you hella motivated to do even the most boring chores around the house

-Deku isn’t afraid to show his emotions. Unlike Bakugou, he’s often seen showing his emotions. Deku said “toxic masculinity who?”. He definitely gives 0 fucks if someone sees him crying/upset because I feel like Pro-Hero Deku would stop the stupid mindset of “Hero’s can’t show their genuine emotions”

-Izuku is the type of person to analyze all his losses, figure out what he did wrong and then learn from it to make sure he doesn’t make the same mistake again. He’s the complete opposite of Bakugou who gets bitter over his losses due to his superiority complex.

-He’s so good at comforting you that it’s unbelievable. Deku gives the warmest hugs that make you feel so safe- you literally cannot change my mind about this

-You know those hugs where the other person lightly rubs your back and lightly sways side to side with you? Yeah those are the hugs that Deku gives (he’d definitely give you a sweet little kiss on the forehead/cheek)

“Sunshine come here, let me hold you while you let out all your frustrations. I’ve got you, nothing can hurt you while you’re here with me”

-Can you tell I want some comforting Izuku hugs? He wouldn’t let go of you until he put a smile back on your face and GAHH oh my god I need Izuku hugs

-As much as I hate to do this, it needs to be done 😔✊🏻

-Izuku is such an over thinker, this guy worries about EVERYTHING under the sun. Your eyes didnt crinkle when you smiled? he’ll think you’re upset with him. You gave him a side hug rather than a normal hug? he’ll think he did something wrong.

-He’s self aware that he overthinks things but he just can’t seem to stop his thoughts. No matter how many times you reassure him that you aren’t upset with him, he’s subconsciously thinking about how to make it up to you

-He constantly pushes himself past his limits. You guys saw how many times he’s broken his bones. Deku may be intelligent but when it comes to his own self he can be completely hopeless

-The amount of times you’ve scolded him while you clean up his scrapes and cuts is insane. He just sits on the toilet lid and bites his lip nervously while you wave your finger angrily at him

“Sunshine please, I said I was sorry and that it won’t happen again!”

“Zuku you and I both know that’s a damn lie, I’ve had to patch you up 3 times this week! When are you going to start being more considerate of your limits?”

-I’m sorry but I picture him being so nervous to initiate anything with you. This guy would be so fidgety just by THINKING about holding your hand

-And deep down he knows he’s being ridiculous because come on, you’re his S/O and he’s been dating you for years now- why does he still get shaken up just by holding your hand?

-At first you think it’s cute, he’s just being respectful of your boundaries- but as time goes on you kind of get a little annoyed because he always asks you a bunch of times if you’re okay with him being affectionate.

“Zuku...sweetheart you know you don’t need to ask me a million times if I want to cuddle, right? I love cuddling with you!”

*cue sweating* “I’ll keep that in mind, Sunshine”

-He eventually gets a lot more comfortable with affection...more often than not you wake up with him nuzzled into your side like a cat

(Side note PLEASE wake him up with a bunch of kisses, he’ll literally melt)

-He’s very insecure about his scars because they make him feel like he’s “ugly” and sometimes he doesn’t even want you to look at them

-Do me a favour and please kiss along his scars/ trace them with your fingers while you compliment him- he’ll start crying because the scars he thought made him ugly are now starting to look beautiful to him

-This isn’t necessarily a toxic trait, more like a bad habit. Whenever Izuku gets stressed he’ll train himself to the brink of exhaustion just so he can try to focus on something other than how stressed he is

-Again, not a toxic trait but a bad one...Deku puts everyone else before himself. Which isn’t a bad thing if it’s done in a healthy amount, but Izuku goes to the extreme. I feel like he’d neglect his own needs just to satisfy everyone else and you’d have to intervene before it gets worse

“Sunshine I said I was fine, you don’t need to worry about me! Your Zuku is perfectly energized and ready to go”

“Zuku don’t lie to me, you know I can read you like a book. You’re coming with me and I’m putting you to bed”

-I hate to say it but this guy hates confrontation so much that sometimes he’ll suffer in silence for MONTHS before he even hints at being upset with something

-I honestly think your biggest argument with him would be about his lack of communication in terms of him not being completely honest about how he feels and he just breaks down-

-Like he has a really bad breakdown because he’s been bottling everything up for so long because he hates the idea of fighting with you.

-And now he’s sobbing because he’s so frustrated that he doesn’t know what else to do

-Anyways, the two of you just silently comfort each other until you’ve both calmed down enough to talk properly. This is the night Izuku finally starts opening up to you rather than bottling up every negative emotion he feels

-I honestly think his love language is a mixture of giving you gifts and words of praise

-He’s a little shy when it comes to showing you how he feels through affection, so giving you gifts and his praise get his point across

-He’s totally the type to send you cute messages throughout the day, send cute selfies when he misses you, or he just sends you a random bouquet of flowers because he saw them and thought of you

-Also the type of guy to have photos of the two of you displayed around his office. His most prized one being the photo of your first mission together

-Just warning you now that if you ever mention that your suit ripped or a certain item isn’t functioning properly then he’ll literally buy 10 replacements- each one better than the last

“Zuku I said that the sole of my BOOT ripped off, not my entire suit!”

“Well now you have 10 new upgraded suits to make sure it won’t happen again! Isn’t it great, Sunshine?”

(Someone take his credit card away from him)

I definitely think Izuku would be an amazing S/O! He’s caring, kind and comforting- and he does his very best to try and work on the bad habits he has.

Overall, I would say Izuku definitely would win a “S/O of the year award” (sorry Bakugou)

[johnbbutmakeitace]

if i had a gun

second part to this ask for the mayward song prompts! i am finally getting around to finishing all of these, yay!

“Put it back.”

JJ’s head snaps up from where he’d been rummaging through his backpack. The wind slipping through the screened in porch whips his blond hair this way and that, but it is not enough to cover up the wide-eyed look he is currently giving Pope, like a kid who got caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“What?” JJ asks, voice strung up a whole octave. He reflexively clutches the backpack to his chest before backtracking and shoving it down by his feet, posing nonchalantly like he wasn’t touching it at all a few moments ago. It’s a dead giveaway when that impulsive, nervous grin starts pulling across his face, like Pope totally didn’t just catch him looking at the fucking gun in his backpack.

“Dude.” They’re at the chateau, supposedly getting ready to go watch a movie in the park, one of those old fashioned black and white ones that no one cares about but is required to watch at family gatherings anyway. 

The whole event feels like one of those shit attempts by the country club mothers to try and create a closer community. Which would maybe work, if there wasn’t the very distinct divide between the families with Adirondack lawn chairs and yeti coolers and those with nothing but worn blankets and sweaty, family sized water bottles to share. 

Pope looks pointedly at the backpack at JJ’s feet, then back at JJ. “You’re not bringing the gun. Put it back.” 

“Who said anything about the gun?” JJ asks, all innocent and fast-paced. “I certainly didn’t. And have no idea what you could--,” he kicks the backpack a little farther away, “--possibly be referring to.” 

“Yeah?” Pope raises a brow, resisting the urge to smile in the face of JJ’s shenanigans. He goes to stand up, “let’s see what’s in the backpack, then.” 

“Nonono! We don’t-- ahaha, we don’t have to do that,” JJ laughs, quickly lunging to snatch up the backpack and dancing away and out of Pope’s reach, who continues to stalk him around the patio table, “c’mon dude, do you see me going through your backpack for fun? Well, no, okay, I do do that when I’m bored but that’s not the point-- hey!” 

Faking a left, Pope snags the backpack out of JJ’s hold and yanks it away from his friend’s grabby hands. JJ, like the mature human being he is, promptly lunges for it. Pope-- who is the pinnacle of maturity and would never act childish in any way, ever-- lifts the backpack high above his head and out of JJ’s reach. 

This quickly devolves into a game of keep away-- the two of them definitely not bickering like children the whole time, thank you very much-- in which JJ tries to hop over Pope to grab the backpack and only succeeds in tangling their legs together and sending them sprawling onto the couch, JJ landing on top of Pope’s chest with an obligatory “oomph!” 

“Tell me why you need it and I’ll give it back,” Pope says, straining his reach as JJ starts to climb over Pope like a fucking spider monkey, or something, ignoring JJ’s frustrated protest. 

“I just do, okay? Now give it--,” JJ is cut off with a frustrated huff as Pope shoves him back with a hand planted on JJ’s chest, their legs still tangled together. He only tries again once, but Pope keeps his palm pressed flat to JJ’s sternum and keeps him there. Realizing the effort is pointless, JJ settles for sitting back and pouting instead. 

“This would be a whole lot easier if you just used your words,” Pope reminds with a lilting tease, earning himself a sea blue colored glare for his troubles. Feeling the hint of frustrated heat in JJ’s demeanor, Pope settles for something a little softer. “Hey,” he says, earnest, and curls his knuckles to push against JJ’s heart a little, “what’s on your mind?” 

 “I need my backpack,” JJ insists, avoiding Pope’s gaze to let it settle on the backpack, like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Okay,” Pope says, patient as ever. He ducks his head a little to meet JJ’s gaze, and presses a little harder against JJ’s heart, “wanna tell me why?” 

“Because it’s got the gun in it, alright?” JJ finally snaps, barking like a cornered dog. “There, are you fucking happy? The gun’s in my backpack, and I need the gun.” 

“Why do you need the gun, JJ?” Pope doesn’t shy away from JJ’s anger. He never has. Because he knows, he knows that if he presses a little more, looks a little deeper underneath all that anger is-- 

“To protect you!” 

There it is. 

Pope’s breath stalls out in his chest in the same moment he hears JJ’s catch in his throat. He finds it hard to breathe in the face of such raw and fierce honesty in his friend’s eyes, but tries his best anyway. 

JJ’s hand comes up to grab Pope’s wrist where it’s resting on JJ’s chest. For a moment Pope thinks JJ’s going to shove his touch away. Instead, JJ grips it like a lifeline, holding it against his chest like it’s the only thing keeping his heart in place. 

Pope lets him hold it there. Let’s himself hold JJ’s heart in place. He doesn’t shy away from the touch-- doesn’t think he ever could. 

“I need it to protect you. And Kie. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kinda headed straight into the lion’s den, here.” JJ ducks his head, ears cherry red. He says, quieter, but with no less strength, “if something happened to you, Pope, I don’t-- I can’t, I can’t--,” 

“Hey,”  And here Pope reaches out, gently digs his fingers into the nape of JJ’s neck, presses hard against the strong heartbeat beneath his palm until sea blue meets his gaze, nervous and unsure. Pope gives the back of JJ’s neck a squeeze, and tells the only truth he’s ever known, “you and me? We got each other. We’re okay.” 

“I know,” JJ breathes, and let’s his head fall to meet Pope’s forehead with a gentle bump. He squeezes their hands together just a little tighter against his heart. “I know.”

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 4

... Skeppies- not in his house... he was in his mansion. Now he is in a mine. That’s not normal, or shouldn't be normal. Who knows what’s normal really. “I reject normal,” He muttered to himself before turning and yelling down the mineshaft “Baaaaaad... Very funny Bad!” He started back down the mine shaft, Bad had to be hiding around a corner up here somewhere. “How did you do it?... Bad?” No response “Bad! Stop hiding already, I know you’re there.” 

Wait, what was this. Skeppy stopped and squinted at the mineshaft walls. He’s a literal diamond, Skeppy knows a thing or two about rocks, and this was a rock he had never seen before. The whole wall was made up of large patches of this dark scaly stone. He knocked his knuckles against it, his diamond skin barely scratching it. “What the hell?” He said and was disappointed when Bad didn't interrupt with his typical ‘language.’ This gave him an idea. He cursed louder. Still silence. Skeppy frowned. Maybe Bad really wasn’t there. 

“Well, I'm leaving now. Last chance.” Still nothing. There was a sinking feeling in Skeppy’s chest. Bad wasn’t there. If this wasn’t a prank then what was this. Skeppy hurried down the mineshaft wasting no time in finding the ladder and climbing out into the sunlight. He exited the little house at the top only glancing back down the mine shaft once through the glass floor. He came out on the edge of a bay, mountains and trees behind him. There was some dirt scaffolding laid out in a massive square across the water, and a nether portal and some chests could be seen on a tiny island in the distance.  

He blinked at it for a minute and then Skeppy did what he always did when he didn’t know what to do. He started yelling.

“Hey yooo! Anyone, there!? Anyone out there?! Hellooooo, I’m talking to you!?” His voice echoed back to him and the water lapped softly against the beach. Skeppy scowled “Well, if you don’t want to be friendly then I’ll just leave. How about that? You hear me? I’m leaving, never returning. Not coming back.” He shouted for the benefit of any hypothetical hiding onlookers as he marched into the forest and started climbing the hill. 

The forest quickly thinned and the hill became more of a cliff, and soon he was climbing over rocky boulders and through flat patches of blue-green grass with the occasional grazing sheep. He came over the next hill and stopped short. The mountain dropped off in front of him and in the plain below looked to be some kind of a village. He squinted; a collective of houses built around what looked to be some kind of pole. 

He heard a bleating sound behind him and turned just as something white with horns rammed into him, knocking him off the cliff and sending him tumbling down the rocky slope, head over heels, till he slid to a stop at the bottom. He looked up at the blue sky and groaned. If he wasn’t a literal rock, he would have been covered in bruises. As it was he still felt like shit.    

“Well look at what the goat dropped in.” Someone laughed. Skeppy tilted his head back to look behind him, everything upside down. A man in a red sweater cast his shadow over him. 

He smiled and the corners of his eyes creased, his shadow growing as a pair of wings spread slightly behind him “Hey there, you seem new, welcome to Boatem town.” 

“Uuuuu... hey there?” 

“You just gonna to lie there, buddy?” He laughed again, reaching out a hand. 

Skeppy blinked and shook his head rolling over and taking the offered hand as the man helped him up. 

“By the way, I’m Grian, whatcha doing out here?” 

“Skeppy, and I, with my excellent sense of direction, was exploring and definitely not lost in any way. I know exactly where I am. And I’m definitely not the victim of some unnamed prankster” He said, starting to walk towards the village and looking around. They were behind a big mossy house.

“Oooh, a prank you say, I’ve got to hear this.” Grian said, following. They walked around the house into the village center, a tower of boats hovered in the middle over an ominous pit. 

“Naaah it’s boring really,” Skeppy waved his hand dismissively as he stopped near the edge of the Boatem hole and peered over. It went all the way down to bedrock, like L’manburg. “Huh... interesting...”

“Ah, yes. That is the Boatem hole, we're planning on opening it up to the void at some point.” Grian explained.

“The void? Wait, you can do that? That sounds awesome. Imagine the pranks you could pull with that” Skeppy said his curiosity getting the better of his caution.

“I know right, Scar’s already fallen down there several times,”

“Hey Grian, who’s your friend there?” A man with in a maroon coat and a tinny hat said coming over. When he came closer Skeppy noticed a long scar running diagonally across his nose and face. 

“Hey Scar! Speak of the devil,” Grian called out to the aptly named man. “This is Skeppy, he’s absolutely not lost.” Grian quipped, smiling, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“You’re lost you say,” Scar said his voice full of all the honey of a car salesman. Skeppy would know, he used the same honeyed tone when trying to talk Bad or Techno into something that probably wasn’t going to end all that well for them but would be absolutely hilarious to watch. 

“Not lost,” Skeppy quickly corrected. 

“Well even those who aren’t lost are trying to get somewhere. I’m sure you wouldn’t object to us sharing a shortcut or too.”

This man was good. Skeppy didn’t want to look too desperate though. Just add a bit of hesitation sprinkled with some skepticism, that should do it “Well... I suppose a shortcut sounds like a good idea. I am heading for the Badlands, know a faster way to get there?”

Skeppy was met with vacant looks, the car salesman gone. “Actually I have no idea where that is,” Scar shrugged sheepishly “How about you Grian,” 

Grian shook his head “Nope... now that I think about it, how did you get on the server anyway,”

“Um... I... I think, I think I just spawned... It’s hard to remember honestly, it’s been so long.” Skeppy frowned at the strange question. 

Grian and Scare glanced at each other in shock. New players weren't born, they were spawned, but it was very rare for players to spawn for the first time in a community server. Usually they spawned in a private server and then moved into a community when they found one that worked for them. 

“Oh!” Skeppies eyes went wide with realization then horror. If a diamond could blanch, Skeppy was the closest thing to that. “...This isn’t the Dream SMP, is it?” 

“Oh dear...” Grian Muttered, “That’s not good.”

---

TFC had been mining. Now he was standing in the middle of a quartz building. That wasn’t normal. His connection to the server had always been a bit glitchy. Maybe this was just another instance of server glitch. He had been frozen in place for days, lagged out, and even defended. Teleportation could just be added to that list. And it wasn’t all that bad, it’s not like it dumped him in the middle of the ocean or lava. As it was, it seemed like he was in someone's starter base. 

He walked down the stairs and out the glass front doors. There were pools of water to either side of a walkway and the yard was cluttered with large colorful statues. A muffin, a duck. Goodness the hermits were already at it with the pranks this season. 

He walked around the statues and came to the front gate of the grounds. A long wooden path lead off in one direction, and wrapped around behind the mansion in the other. A large red multi story building loomed in the distance. The hermits really had gotten busy. 

It was always nice to see what other people were making but he needed to get back to his mine. He took the path following it around the back of the mansion. The path dropped off suddenly. He jumped down and landed with a grunt before taking some bread out of his pocket and munching on it as he rounded the corner of the quartz building's foundation. 

He faltered as his eyes fell on a massive blackstone building looming out of the sea, two imposing lava infused towers book ending the walls at either side... And he had thought the Red build had been big for early game. This was definitely too big for early game... even by hermit standards. 

He slowly walked closer. Beyond the Quartz house was mostly just an open field until it reached the water. As he got closer he noticed his pickaxe suddenly become unnaturally heavy. It felt strangely like Mining Fatigue. What would a Guardian be doing out here? He returned his pick to his inventory. TFC had seen a lot of things in his time, and this thing felt off. 

“Pst..” 

TFC jumped and looked around for the source of the noise. 

“Over here,” 

Now he noticed the footprints in the ground and a floating potion bottle. That sounded like Etho. 

“Etho?” TFC queried.

“Yeah, it’s me. Here drink this, I can explain later,” Etho said, shoving the potion into TFC’s work calloused hands. 

TFC looked down at the bottle of bubbling silver liquid for a moment before uncorking it and downing the liquid. He trusted the young man with his life. 

--- 

Sam started up from his chair in the dark room where he had been flipping through the prison's security camera feeds, lit only by the glow of the computer screens. He expanded the outside front camera feed to full screen and rewound the feed. A strange old man he had never seen before slowly approached the beach by the prison then just disappeared. Who the hell was that and why did he take an invis potion. 

Sam scowled. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, summoning his trident from his inventory and marching for the exit.

[itstheimpossibledream]

Only A Play-Part 2

Word Count:3053

Pairing :  AU Henry & FemBlack! Reader

Warning:Angst, soon to come Smut

Summary: Y/n and Henry still trying to navigate their mutual attraction but, their job is making it harder to deny.The next chapter is already written, there’s sex in it I swear.

"So today I want you guys to focus on working with Dana" Steve began 

"She's our resident intimacy coordinator, I've already gone over the scene with her and she's going to make sure it goes over as smooth as possible. We're going to get her assistance a couple times during this process but today we're going to empty out the studio so have fun, play and get to know eachother. Today is just a day for you two to find some comfortable physicality with eachother." Stephen winks at you and then begins ushering tech and the few ensemble members out of the room. Friend or not, anyone attracted to men could not deny that Mr. Cavill was absolutley gorgeous, as wasted as it may be. In all honesty you hadn't spoken much aside from that snowy day outside the studio. He did begin to bring coffee and Kal to rehearsals and you tended to find the snuggly, bear of a dog always next to you when you were waiting for a cue but, it wasn't as though the two of you had had a heart-to-heart and resolved any of these unspoken differences. And as far as the scene was concerned your heart was doing backflips unable to tell which action would come more naturally, to kiss him or to hit him.

"So I'm seeing a lot of passion here! O !Please remove your shoes for today's lesson." Dana cuts in breaking the silence. Both of you look down at the wood paneled floor. Now was the time where you really had to work, you think to yourself while slowly slipping out of your shoes. 

“Unfortunately Dana, “ Henry begins, immediately charming the brakes off of her. 

 “ At this point of the play I believe her character is quite conflicted, as a woman she obviously wants to give in to him but, at the same time she knows she'll be letting down her family and he will too, they'll live a life with no family outside of the one they create for themsevles. It's quite powerful.But, a tough emotional point to bring oneself to."

"That may be how Christopher sees it -" you snap referring to his character. You are suddenly aware that you sound way more upset then you had intended to. "She doesn't want have sex with him because if she does she's giving up more than him,she always has.That's the whole story of their relationship. " you say, allowing your words to be the dam between the flood of  frustration you want to direct his way.

"So as you said we both have a lot of emotions here, we need to work on honing them into something that could potentially work itself into this explosion of passion okay?" Dana jumped excitedly. She looks exactly like what you would have expected from an intimacy coordinator.She wore a long moo-moo like dress and chunky amber jewelry.She smelled of a ton of weed, not as though you were really complaining but, it all added to the aesthetic that had washed into the room on her heels as she had entered. 

"I want to begin with an exercise- Mr.Cavill I know you've done scenes like this before so please work with me if I touch on some things you've already heard." she says leaning over and squeezing his forearm while winking. Great even the sex scene coordinator thought he was hot.

" I'm going to give you the space to choose but I want you both to just slowly go through the scene and when you hit a line that feels acceptable you remove an item of clothing. On stage you've both agreed to full nudity but today I just want to push you to do what feels comfortable!" Quietly you both moved to the opposite ends of the room, hitting your marks to begin the scene. You said your first few lines focusing on washing the dishes, the studio didn't have running water so it ended up being more like mime washing dishes. You were so much more professional than you were proving to be in this moment but, the second Henry removed his shirt you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. On his first line?Really? That was so like him ,so pompous.  And even more upsetting how ridiculously attractive he was. God was his body sculpted from marble? Nothing but pure muscle rippling evenly, he seemed somehow tanned, despite the blistering New York winter. You focused hitting your next line perfectly ,completely unphased by his topless body.With the following delivery you shrug out of your jacket, revealing your tank top. Thank christ you had expected to have a hook-up with a bartender after today's rehearsal. You weren't in full lingerie but, you were definitely in a matching set. A matching set that happened to make your ass look great. You held that in your back pocket, knowing you had every right to parade about, naked in the same room as someone who was a shoe-in to be named 'World's Sexiest Man'. You went for it, pulling off your tank top with your next line. This is when your blocking got physical. You had run this scene before but, running it scantily clad was an entirely different matter. You were supposed to  straddle him. That seemed simple enough. You stood before him, gingerly sliding one knee up onto the couch and then swinging another to the other side of him. 

"Are you sure?" he whispered, low and slow. You hated how during the scenes he actually had moments of completely brilliant acting where you could see an amazing talent. Then, you felt his hand on your knee. It was absurdly large and warm, so warm. You froze. You didn't want to do it but, you froze.Your eyes flitted all over the room, desperately looking for a way out , to end the scene. You feel his hand move up your thigh, it's the blocking, he's just doing his job, you remind yourself. But, something in you makes you afraid of his touch. You look into his eyes and you can tell he's noticed you shrinking under his touch. He clears his throat and drops character.Changing his intention toward Dana.

"I'm sorry can we start over? I completely forgot my line." he smiled at her.

"Sure! That was really great I think just focus a bit more on your intention. It's funny I think you guys had more sexual tension at the start of the rehearsal than at the top of the scene!" she laughed to herself. "Okay, let's take a step back, relax , stand up !  Stand up!" she says, jumping to her feet. The two of you peeled yourself apart from each other and you found yourself looking down at your perfectly perky breasts feeling more insignificant than ever. You could feel your face heating up by his move to take the blame for the scene. It was much more gentlemanly than you were expecting from him. 

"How about we take a break and come back in twenty? She suggested after a few warm-ups of jumping around and saying self -assuring mantras out-loud. After half a bottle of water, redressing, boring stretches and pretending to avoid eye-contact with Henry your rehearsal was finally up.

“ Oookay guys good stuff. Goooood stuff ! So for the weekend tomorrow I know Stephen had you signed up for a few meet and greets and publicity shoots but, I actually think that if you guys could set aside the time that you do spend together to get physically comfortable it could do a lot for your onstage comfortability. Hand holding, general petting or stroking, you may even want to try a light sitting on the lap, just anything really to get you more used to one another. This relationship needs to seem as effortless and fluid as possible.” She smiled “ also note that my number is free for 24/7 communication so if something comes up for you emotionally in this work feel free to get in contact with me, even if it's just to chat my door is always open!" she beams,collecting her water bottle and other assorted scripts she was reading through at the beginning of the rehearsal. 

Stephen reenters and, he and Dana go to the corner of the room to talk. 

You work your back pack onto your shoulder and begin to head for the door.

"Wait up!" Henry calls out from behind you. You whirl around and almost bump into him. His sweatshirt is baggy but unzipped enough that you can see the small tufts of hair playing at the tops of his chest, his baseball cap pulled way down over his forehead. Those blue eyes shined bright from the shade under that baseball cap. 

"What are your plans for tonight ?" he asked, slightly exaggerating his breathing from the light jog across the room. You searched the room awkwardly,looking for an out. What is it with him? Why did he think, especially after the last time the two of you had spent alone together, that you would ever want to be included in his plans for the night.  

"Perfect Idea!" Stephen exclaims from across the room. "You guys use tonight to bond as much as possible before tomorrow afternoon's interview session yeah?" 

"Uhhhh sure ." You agree, not wanting to seem like the town buzz-kill. You turn shrugging towards Henry. He smiles, seeming almost relieved that you agreed without putting up a fight, as Steve moves to rejoin Dana in the back

"So uhhh my place or yours?" he asks in a half hearted joke. 

"Uhhh" you definitely don't want him at your place, where there is laundry strewn all over the apartment . 

"I mean I have to feed my dog and run some errands anyway so my apartment would be ideal."

"O great! Okay yeah , let's do that then." you pushed on the door and headed for the elevator, the ride down to the lobby of the rehearsal studios was entirely silent, filled with awkward shuffling and avoided eye contact. Only punctuated by a short uber black ride in silence to an apartment on the upper east side. Ofcourse he lived on the upper east side.The doorman was polite as you followed behind him, clearly him bringing strange women up to his apartment was not entirely unheard of. Once in the room, you asked where to sit your bag down, your afternoon ritual usually included a trip to the gym, that is what had become your me -time since college. He motioned you to his guest room, in which you were shocked,contained a shower, granted the entire tiny room was a shower but, being a guest in New York with your own bathroom was definitely not an everyday thing. Especially, for a little black girl from the south. 

"Is it okay if I shower before we grab dinner?" you ask.

"Oh! You wanted to grab dinner?I was just going to order chinese."

"That's fine! " you ungracefully exclaimed from the other room.Shit. Hopefully he didn't think you really meant grab dinner like on a date.

"Do you have a special order?"he asked, appearing in the doorway. You turned around slightly alarmed that his voice had gotten that much closer.

"I love everything!" you smile, he looked down at the floor nervously. "but shrimp lomein is my favorite." you say unzipping your jacket and placing it on the bed, your bra was working overtime holding you up and you made a mental note to order another one exactly like it. He cleared his throat and there was a second of silence. You could feel his eyes slowly darting around the room trying not to look at your chest. As actors, especially ones who have to do nude scenes together you didn't think it would be a big deal to him that you were getting ready to shower. You had mentioned on the elevator earlier that you had wanted a shower. Taking off your jacket just seemed like the right next step, nothing to feel weird over. 

"Sounds Good!" he exclaims, finally showing you his full smile, for the first time since the rehearsal process had started. God he was a sight, he had removed his hat and you noticed how perfectly his hair curled onto his forhead.It was adhered by sweat but, not the weird homecoming- football helmet sweat, you get from your highschool crush. This was a grown-man glistening infront of you. It sounded ridiculous, the situation itself was ridiculous,why was he even sweating ?

"Sorry-I uh- I didn't know you were showering right now. We can talk about it later if you-"

"It's fine" you say, stepping in and  laying a hand on his forearm.His eyes shot down to your hand then immediately back to your eyes, sure to avoid seeming like he was staring at your breasts. He clears his throat again and you can smell the faint cologne on him as you watch his adams apple bob. The air in the room changes and you feel him shift away from you. You mumble a thanks for the dinner as you hear  him close the door between you. 

Your shower was perfectly steamy and warm, much unlike your brooklyn apartment that had charm and character but, a much worse hot water heater. As you washed away the dirt from the day you tried not to think of Henry, of what he must think of you for absolutely chewing him out just a few short weeks ago. He seemed to have gotten over it but, at the same time perhaps he was just trying to be the better person. As much as you hated to admit it he had completely accepted your scathing critique and was now treating you like the highest paying guest at a five-star resort. You turned down the hot water, basking in the last bit of steam and enjoying the first true silence of your day. Reaching an arm up, you grab a towel, wrapping it around your body. You stretched out for another towel that you had laid across the sink, somehow your legs completely slipped from under you and you crashed to the floor,grabbing the sink for leverage. Really all you did was knock over some toiletries that you had put on the sink earlier and you could feel your cheeks heating up. It was weird to be embarrassed in a room by yourself but, you knew he must've heard something. You sat on the floor, allowing your chin to rest on the top of your knees. You desperately needed a moment to breathe. Life had been so stressful lately, and you possibly had let off a bit too much steam on him. He was actually a nice guy, sure the accessible information on him didn't make him look amazing but when it came down to it once you explained how you felt about him he had worked so hard to seem normal and accessible. For whatever reason  he seemed to respect your opinion as an artist. The knock at the door kept you from becoming completely lost in your thoughts. It knocked again and you could hear his feet shuffle on the hard wood outside of the door, the nails of the large dog clicking the floor next to him. 

"You okay in there?" It seemed earnest enough.

"Yeah!" you called back "My mind has really been somewhere else lately, I just umm lost my footing- that's all." 

"Okay well let me know if you need anything." It was cheery but helpful. Once you heard him close the door to your room you got up and got dressed as quickly as you could, fumbling to get sweatpants on without accident. Today was definitely not your most agile day. You finally let your hair down and put on just the smallest amount of mascara to make your eyes pop.It was an effortlessly hot look that had worked for you for years, especially in college. You closed the door behind you and gently padded your way to the kitchen. The apartment was cozy, Kal was curled up on a rug in the corner of the room while Henry portioned the food onto pristine white plates. You noticed the baseball cap was back on and at least thanked god for giving you that small assistance in removing the temptation to touch him by running your fingers through his hair.

"So you order takeout but refuse to eat it out of the container?"you asked jokingly as he whirled around from the counter.That smile appeared on his face again and you knew you were putty in his hands,The way he filled out his navy blue t-shirt was unbelievable.

"It's less calories this way." he winked. Thank god he had a sense of humor.You returned his smile now sitting in the chair closest to the kitchen. The conversation veered from workout routines, to body image stress as a performer and then back to work. You found yourself sucking a noodle wishing he'd bring up something else. You absolutely could not do a night of niceties and small talk at this point in your life but, you also weren't ballsy enough to walk right up to him and tell him you wanted him.

"Y/N?"he asked

"Yeah?" you jumped being pulled once again from you daydream

"Do you wanna run lines or watch tv or something?"he asked shyly

"Yeah I mean -we can run lines if you want I just thought we were supposed to bond by talking or something." you laughed trying to take the edge off the awkwardness of the scenario.

"Well what do you want to talk about ?' he asked, leaning back in his seat, baseball cap over his eyebrows.His jawline was so sharp it could cut ice, it dawned on you that he was actually much too goodlooking for his own good. 

You picked up a fortune cookie at the center of the table and tossed it to him.

"Read me your fortune."you smiled seductively. He raised his eyebrows at you but, something must have convinced him because he simply shook his head and said.

"Okay."

[liptonsbabe]

2 + 13 from the fluff sentence starters list with thomas x reader? ty, i really love your works!! <3

i love u too lovely!

Team up [Thomas]

Thomas x reader

#2 “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

#13 “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

from the fluff promt list here!

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: none(?

"You want to do what?"

"It's kind of risky, I know," Thomas replies staring at me. A smile hides behind the pout on his lips making me growl "Sometimes I have really crazy ideas but they end up being good at the end of the day, right? That's what you all say. I just...I want you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Why? That's a good question" Thomas is silent, thinking. His brown eyes lose themselves in the horizon leaving me a perfect view of his incredibly aesthetically pleasing profile and his upturned little nose glistening in the moonlight "A very good question. Ah... the only good thing that comes to mind is because I'm an idiot and I need you guys by my side so I don't die trying, what do you think? Was that a good answer?

"Almost. I thought you were going to talk about the importance of friendship?"

"Yeah, that too."

"Uh-huh, so, you guys want to go to a city full of Cranks with the possibility, or not, of bringing Minho back even if you're not entirely sure he's there?"

"Basically."

"No way."

I pick up the bottle of liquor I've been drinking from for half an hour now. Campside is a very boring place if you don't have specific tasks within the different areas this place is divided into or if you finish those tasks too quickly, I do the latter cause there's nothing else I can do while I'm locked up.

Thomas, Newt and Frypanhave been very busy helping Vince to free the wicked wagons that transport kids to their facilities in order to continue with their research regarding the cure for the flare, so we don't see each other that often as we all have very different tasks. I am in charge of engineering along with Jorge and sometimes with the help of Brenda. This is one of the few moments where I can relax, steal a bottle of rum from Jorge's prized collection and hopefully lose consciousness until tomorrow morning. However, my plans are thwarted by the presence of Thomas who, sitting next to me, gives me an amused look as he watches me drink.

"And you guys need me cause..."

"You're part of the team."

"No shit."

"Yes you are. We've been so far apart lately, haven't we? Not just between us, we've even lost some communication with the others. I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. It's the circumstances, I guess."

"Still, I wish I could have some time for you, I mean, for us. Like it used to be."

"Thomas..." he clicks his tongue taking the bottle of rum from my hands giving it a big sip. His Adam's apple twitches from the alcohol in his throat making me swallow hard, looking away. He understands how much it makes me uncomfortable to hear him talk that way, where it involves both of us in a relationship that doesn't exist. Thomas and I are friends and it should stay that way. Not because we don't want to have a relationship, but because I feel it's not the right time to do so. Later on when all this craziness is over, maybe....

"Okay, I forgot, but you have to admit I'm right."

"You are."

"Fine. So, will you do it, are you going to join us?"

"I must hear the plan before I make a decision."

"Trust me, it's better not to know" he says with a chuckle handing me back the bottle. I take a big sip wanting the liquor to burn my throat "The less you know the easier it will be."

"Oh my god, I'm not drunk enough for this".

Thomas lets out a laugh holding a hand to his chest. I really like to see him laugh. His eyes close almost completely, his hands fly straight to his chest and his white teeth glisten in perfect white rows. The wind ruffles his ashy hair and I don't know if it's like that on purpose or if it's a very timely coincidence. When he finishes laughing he takes the bottle of rum from my hands again, drinking more than half of it in one motion. A little of the liquor escapes from the corner of his lips down his chin and then down his neck where it takes an unknown direction. His brown eyes scan me up and down returning the bottle which gets caught between his hand and mine. Then his naughty fingers snake around the nozzle of the decanter trapping my trembling fingers in his so warm ones. He pulls his body close to mine and even through the wind ruffling our hair I can feel his breath combined with the rum directly on my face making me blush.

"Is there a reason you're blushing like that?" Thomas laughs wickedly, knowing that his presence causes me to have a series of reactions that embarrass me.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Since first day, you finally noticed?"

"Thomas, you're crazy."

"I am, but maybe you are more so for even thinking about helping me" he says, changing the subject because he knows it makes me uncomfortable "Still, there's a good reason to do it".

"Minho" I say because Thomas can't seem to say his name out loud. I understand his pain, it is the same pain Newt is feeling, Frypan and the same pain I am feeling. We are a family and without Minho we are not complete. I hold his cheeks, noticing the sadness in his hazel eyes. They struggle to hold back tears. He misses Minho. He misses him so much "He's fine, Thomas."

"How could you know?"

"I just trust that he is."

"You still have a lot of faith."

"At this point it's all I have left."

"You're right "Thomas lays his head on my neck letting out a sigh. There are few moments when Thomas is this vulnerable, afraid and letting his tears fall a little at a time. I stroke his back and after a couple of minutes he wipes the tears away, gets up from my shoulder and pretends nothing happened. I smile at him, taking the last sip of Jorge's rum "Well then, what do you say, are you in?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, not really" he replies, sniffling "but Minho needs us and leaving him in that place is not an option.

"Of course not."

"All we have to do is try to get into the city, watch out for the cranks and then... we'll improvise"

"Yeah, right" I sigh, sensing this is going to go horribly wrong "This is the stupidest plan I've ever heard of in my life, when do we start?

Thomas smiles, stands up and offers me his hand. I hesitate for a moment to follow him, but I know this is the right thing to do. He brings the back of my hand to his lips leaving a small kiss, pulling me with him towards the entrance of the camp where Frypan and Thomas are already waiting for us.

"Right now"

[wolfstars-biggest-shipper]

Hey Truuudyyyy.. ;)) This is your sign to write one of my prompts;)))

*DEEP BREATH* OKAY OKAY OKAY FINE~ ILL GIVE IT A SHOT- fair warning though i’m a pretty bad writer

i’m gonna attempt that one for you, @lumpy-elephant-dung ...

***

It had been an average Sunday morning in sixth year, a week before the full moon, when they got the news.

The marauders had come down to breakfast early at James’s insistence-

(“Sirius! You of all people should know how important it is for us to win the cup this year!” “yeah, but not this early Prongs, it’s 6am! On a weekend!” “Shut up and put on your socks Padfoot, and hurry up Moony” “WHY THE FUCK do me and Pete have to come down too? we’re not even on the team?!!” “MORAL SUPPORT REMU, MORAL SUPPORT”)

-when a large tawny barn owl with slicked back feathers landed next to Remus’s plate of four-flavoured toast, an official looking ministry letter tied to its leg. The lanky boy paled visibly as he opened the note, hands shaking, and Sirius felt a surge of dread and panic spread throughout his body, thoughts of what it could possibly be started rushing through his mind; had they somehow found out he was an unregistered werewolf?! had Lyall finally snapped and filled the execution for his boyfriend?! had the ministry found out they were gay, and going to outcast them (the homophobia in the wizardind world was shocking)??! Even with all the theories scattered in his mind, Sirius didn’t anticipate what the letter actually bore. As Sirius watched his usually well-composed, emotionally suppressed, tough boyfriend read the letter with rare tears forming in his eyes, he felt a pang in his stomach. A shaking Remus handed the letter across the table to where Sirius was seated, a single tear escaping his eyes as he slowly stood up and left the great hall. Scanning the page, Sirius let out a small gasp before shoving the letter towards James and Pete. Hope Lupin was dead.

Sirius knew, the second he had read those dreaded words, that his beloved Moony wasn’t going to be coping well, considering the fact that Remus’s go-to grieving method was bottling up all of his emotions until he snapped and lashed out towards others. But Sirius, above all his other concerns, hadn’t expected Remus to go silent. Though, Remus hadn’t developed mutism, in case that’s what you thought. Remus was silent by choice.

The boy who once shot his hand up to the stars with enthusiasm when a teacher would as a question, eager to prove his worth and intelligence, was now refusing to communicate, staring blank faced, dead in the eyes, out the window. The boy who once had the largest appetite in the school, who would take second and third helpings, was no longer turning up to meals, no longer eating. The boy who once snook into Sirius’s bed, and kissed him softly on the nose before drifting away to sleep in each other’s arms, was now laying in his own bed, blankly staring at the roof, curtains drawn.

The concern from the hogwarts staff and students alike was very noticeable. None more, though, than Sirius Black. All those lessons where Remus wouldn’t talk, Sirius wouldn’t either, because all of his attention was on his boyfriend, and not the lesson. His grades were slipping, he was losing sleep, and he, like Remus himself, was losing weight rapidly, but he was unbothered, Remus came first to him, always and forever.

Before anyone knew it, it had been a full week of Remus’s stony, emotionless silence. It was the full moon that night, and the other marauders had grown increasingly worried. They had known, by now, that the worse Moony felt before his transformation, the more painful it would be, the more difficult it would be to stop him from harming himself, the lesser the chance of his own survival would be. The boys shared glances of concern throughout the day, the unspoken words of terror hanging in the air, until an hour before the moon rise Sirius couldn’t take it anymore. Picking up his bag, he walked with caution to Remus’s drawn curtains and slid in.

Remus, who was startled, jumped, though without saying anything, and locked eyes with his boyfriend. Sirius tentivley held out a hand, and surprisingly, Remus latched on to it and pulled him into a tight hug and he began to shake hysterically, with Sirius whispering words of comfort into his shoulder, running his hand through his fluffy tawny hair. Remus felt a tear escape his eye before breaking down into sobs.

From outside the bed, Peter and James gave each other a knowing look and tip toed out as to not disturb them, a small bit of hope rushing through their chests.

Sirius didn’t know how long they stayed in that position, but he had finally felt the pang of fear leave his chest and didn’t want to move, but as reluctant as he was, he knew that as the moon approached they would have to go soon. But out of nowhere, Remus began to speak;

“I just can’t believe she’s gone”

and then the words were tumbling out, all the anguish, the pain, the memories. The well needed vent had finally happened. Remus wiped his eyes, and held his boyfriend’s hand as they left the dorms, meeting Pete and James at the bottom of the spiral staircase where they had been waiting.

They headed out to the whomping willow, and as they were about to enter, Remus pulled Sirius back, whispering “thank you” into the night. They both knew that there was still a much unsaid, still so much to unpack. And Sirius would be there for it all, helping him recover. Things weren’t okay now, but they would be.

***

TYSM FOR READING!!! IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR QUITE A LONG TIME BUT IM FINALLY HAPPY WITH THIS :) <3

[matchstickdolly]

Lucifer 5B: Cutting off Touch to Spite Your Fans

Spoiler warning: This post assumes you've watched all of Lucifer, season 5, part B.

CW: There's plenty I like about season 5, but this is a negative post. I know not everyone is up for negativity about the things they love. I also generally avoid it and (try to) keep my mouth shut about things I don’t like in most spaces. It’s good etiquette. But this is my space, and I have thoughts specifically about purity culture and the treatment of sexuality and trauma in fiction. You’ve been warned!

---

I'm a professional writer (not in TV). I've worked with enough bad clients, editors, and other writers to recognize some hallmark behaviors in how both Fox and Netflix gave Lucifer's writers incredibly difficult, unfair, and frankly weird situations to create through.

Fox did them dirty, interfering and ordering too many eps in S3. Netflix did them dirty, ordering 10 eps for S4 when it clearly needed ~13. Then Netflix ordered 10 "final" eps for S5—then, just kidding(!), 6 more after they'd done their writing for the 10. (What the fuck?) And then Netflix ordered 10 more for a "final-final" S6 after the writers had done their best to tell their whole story in S5. (MORE what the fuck.)

Talk about whiplash for creators, and half of those who consume content don't even care to understand such creative pain.

So, there are problems on multiple fronts. There's much I'll forgive writers, accordingly. I go into most shows expecting plotting/pacing issues. I look, instead, for characters and relationships that will triumph over those issues.

Heart is what the show Lucifer has always had in spades, both in its characters and in the immensely committed, wonderful ways the actors have tried to realize the characters' humor, love, trauma, and—most importantly—struggle to find healing. Yet, when given the opportunity to show health alongside another in a relationship, the writers/directors of 5B chose to remove most sexual humor and physical intimacy from their female lead and bi/pan characters to, I feel, sanitize them and troll fans. What happened?

Well, for one, say hi to showrunner Joe Henderson bragging about how the writers decided to be colossal dicks to the fans who helped secure their jobs:

From CBR's 'Lucifer Showrunner Joe Henderson Dissects Season 5B's Chaos'

Have we not suffered sidelined/repressed female characters, "bury your gays," and, oh, Chloe fucking a serial killer enough? Must we also say hello to neutered relationships once characters find stable love (whether same or opposite sex)? The result of withdrawing more sexual humor and physical intimacy from paired characters is an uncomfortable suggestion that they're reformed by "pure" love—more chaste and aloof, more acceptable in polite society. This is only done to end-game committed relationships.*

The writers seem to think they're edging the viewers, but the reality is they're taking traumatized minority characters who rejoiced in sexual freedom, but lacked and craved an emotional connection, and showing they can't have both, or, if they find both, it will never last. They've taken hypersexual characters and said, here, even they can have the love and commitment they desire, but some physical intimacy, especially sexual intimacy, is what they must trade for it.

There's always one more case, phone call, or coincidence interrupting intimacy. Traumas or deaths deserving emotional and physical comfort go on to receive none or only one aspect. Done sometimes, it's fine. Done always, it's sick. Dan dies, and there's no hugging? Really?†

Don't craft characters who crave a full range of emotional and physical intimacy, only to rob them of related scenes every chance you get. That's not complexity. That's bad writing. To even achieve this in 5B, they must squash banter and sideline their female lead yet again.

What a gift to purity culture, which tells us to be more palatable by bottling and buttoning up. That sex should be taboo, but violence glorified. That there is no heated desire among "Good Women," that sexual minorities of all genders shouldn't experience it much at all.

5A is so good. At the very least, it's on the right path (clearly, since the plot payoff from 5x01 to 5x16 is great). It shows a couple working through difficulties and trauma, toward each other emotionally and physically. It even pokes fun at people who think an established relationship means the death of romantic and sexual appeal (a tired and hugely sexist trope). And then... And then 5B reverses that, pretending established relationships are barely physical during emotional struggle and that the honeymoon phase doesn't exist. It robs characters of joy and comfort through physical intimacy when they need it to move through or push beyond trauma.

It's telling that so many fan wishes for Deckerstar are about healing touch and existing in each other's spaces: amending Chloe's spicy PDA history with Cain, Chloe caring for Lucifer's wings, soft family scenes a la Monopoly night and shared meals, morning-afters, etc. Reasonable fans aren't asking for porn; they're asking for connection and humanity. They're asking for writers not to forget characters (and, yes, including hypersexual characters) on their way from Point A to Point B.

That 5B lacks these things isn't a "tee-hee frustrating" slow burn or a cockblock. It is, in so many scenes, excising from characters a core part of what nearly every human and fictional monster craves. And it's a slap in the face to the "found family" trope. When you remove or tamp down a casual physical intimacy that was previously there, characters and their relationships fall flat, even if only partially. They become blunt weapons creators wield against watchers or readers begging for scraps of warmth.

Minorities shouldn't be killed off with ease, and they shouldn't be stifled with ease, either.‡ And maybe there shouldn't be deep trauma driving a wedge in a romantic relationship if you're not going to explore it through that relationship, too—physical intimacy included.

I'm still reserving some judgment. I loved the family drama and the end. (Although, again, where was the physical intimacy? No intimacy when Chloe or Lucifer return from the dead? Really?) I see where they could do awesome things, and could have done more if not for network BS.

But I no longer trust Lucifer's writers and directors. They thought S5 was the end. And what they gave us of Deckerstar, of the relationship that symbolizes health and healing in their fictional world, is this: cold distance. And they got a kick out of doing it, apparently.

If this is a "love letter" to me as a fan, I'm burning it. I can only hope S6 course corrects. If not, the writers who made these choices shouldn't write sexual minority and/or traumatized characters again. If you don't understand most of us, you should stop fucking using us.

---

* If you don't believe me about the differences between casual/short-term relationships and end-game relationships in Lucifer, go back and look at how Lucifer and Maze are with strangers in all the other seasons. Look at Chloe's sex dream, her propositioning of Lucifer in a library, her sex with Pierce in the evidence closet. Look at how much physical intimacy there is between Lucifer and Eve, and then between Eve and Maze (if only as a ploy). Across seasons, there are sex/kink jokes and scenes galore.

Compare this to how these same characters are portrayed when with their end-game loves. Notice the gentle pecks on the lips and the huge general drop in sexual humor between 5A and 5B. How boring. Where's the spice these characters had? Also, give me a damn break. Buttoning up in a relationship is contrary to four and a half seasons of emotional character work that's been communicating security in our relationships is personally freeing.

† I'm not just talking about sexual intimacy in this post, though that is a big part of it because of the characters. 5B lacked crucial found family scenes, too.

Chloe should have been at God's family dinner, but being so would have prevented more ham-fisted angst. Chloe never even has a one-on-one with God, probably because that would demand a straight answer about her miracle status, which I would guess will be used to drive yet another wedge between her and Lucifer next season, but we'll see.

In multiple before- and after-work scenes, there was no reason for Lucifer and Chloe to be apart more, even, than they were in S1 and S2. Monopoly night was in S3, for crying out loud. Most horrifying of all? No one touches Chloe after Dan's death, but Trixie. Meanwhile, Linda, Amenadiel, Ella, Maze, and Lucifer all receive physical comfort. No wonder Chloe's tired of being strong.

‡ If you don't think it's offensive that they stuffed all their wlw content for two hypersexual characters into a few clunky, irrational, and chaste scenes that rushed I love yous, a marriage-like proposal, and the mention of soulmates, I don't know what to tell you other than get off my lawn.