#and i get so worried that one day I will need that PTO that I can't convince myself to use it for like mental health days and ugh

[wutheringmights]

.

#my digestive issues are literally under the most control they have ever been in my life and they are still ruining my life #woke up fine today. went to a coffee shop. had to leave after an hour #i had so many plans for today and now i'm stuck at home because i can't be too far away from a bathroom #i didn't eat anything that would trigger this. my gut just hates me i guess #earlier this month i have a risk food but i thought i took enough precautions to be safe and it fucked me up for like #2 weeks straight #i wonder what its like for people to not have to wonder about bathroom access every time they leave the house #i wonder what its like to eat normal foods without calculating how sick its going to make you #i wonder what its like to not have entire plans tossed out the window for reasons beyond your control #fucking sucks man #i hate ibs #in exchange for my terrible gut i do have a fantastic immune system somehow but weirdly that means i never take time off work? #ok so i am so good at just managing my issues that i just power through whenever im sick. #it's not like i can afford to take time off whenever i feel sick anyway and besides once you have to take multiple AP tests in high school #while in the middle of an episode you grow a lot of tolerance for being functional while sick #but then. i just i could have excuses to take days off because i have a cold or something. get a rest every now and then #but what illnesses i get beyond digestion issues are so slight that i can just. power through. i am never ill enough to take time off #and i get so worried that one day I will need that PTO that I can't convince myself to use it for like mental health days and ugh #this is more of a personal problem than anything but still. i wish i got sick like a normal person

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Testing

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After transferring to the Mid-Wilshire division because of toxic male officers harassing you, you find yourself partnered with Tim Bradford. When you are injured during a Tim Test, you hide the injury so he doesn't think less of you.

Warnings: angst to fluff, misogynistic comments and actions toward reader (from police officers), reader is injured and passes out, Tim is a softie

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

A/N: This was such an amazing request!! Tim (and everyone at Mid-Wilshire) would be so welcoming after dealing with something like this, so I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

You knew from the beginning that it would be different for you, that being a female cop would have its pros, cons, and tough moments. What you didn’t expect was the men who were supposed to be your equals harassing you and making each moment far worse than it should have been.

Between the crass comments about how your uniform fit, questioning whether it was your time of the month whenever you tried to stand up for yourself, and their inability to trust you in the field, you learn your place quickly.

“I’d like to request a transfer to a different station,” you tell your commanding officer.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because there is no respect, no trust in this station. Looking over my shoulder while I’m trying to work, and having to defend myself against the very people who are supposed to have my back is exhausting and it makes me unable to do my job.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes as he slides a form to you. “Your decision. Though showing how weak you are by moving around every time things get hard, or your feelings get hurt isn’t plausible.”

“And you had to ask why,” you mutter, snatching the paper off his desk and walking out to fill it out in private.

“Hey, princess, before we leave on patrol I need to know you don’t have your gun at the front of your belt,” someone calls. “Don’t want to risk getting killed by your poor aim.”

You remain silent, which makes them quit or spurs them on to push you further. As if your day isn’t going poorly already, they take your silence as a weakness.

“Just her gun? You should be more worried about how her attitude changes if her bra rides up or her hormones spike,” a second voice adds.

“You’re on your own today,” you reply. “I’m on desk duty.”

“Finally, someone put you where you belong.”

The men laugh as they walk toward their shops, and you take a deep breath as the quiet settles over the station. Once your paperwork is complete, you take it to the captain. You can only hope it goes through quickly before you get fed up and quit forever.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your commanding officer yells your name as you walk in, intercepting you on your way to the locker room. 

“Your transfer just came through, you’re expected at the Mid-Wilshire division for roll call first thing in the morning; today’s PTO while we complete the paperwork,” he informs.

You accept the paper he hands you and pretend not to hear as he adds, “I hope they know what they’re getting into and have the patience to deal with you.”

Smiling as you empty your locker, you hope things are looking up. Although, you know it will be hard to open up to new people and trust new cops, even if they are different than your previous team.

✯✯✯✯✯

Entering the Mid-Wilshire station, you cross your fingers that transferring was the right decision. Sergeant Wade Grey is your new commanding officer, and your day (and your future) relies on this meeting going well.

“Sergeant Grey?” you ask, knocking on his open door.

He looks up, smiling as he beckons you inside. Saying your name, he opens a folder and compliments your arrest record. “I was surprised to hear you asked for a transfer, it seemed like you were doing well at your previous station.”

“The environment was making it difficult to do as well as I know I can, sir,” you answer.

Grey nods. “I can understand that. Our people are good, though, so I expect you will fit in well and succeed in all you do here.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“And you can drop the ‘sir,’ we’re not as formal as some other stations.”

Blinking in surprise, you look away from Wade when another cop enters the small office. 

“Sergeant Bradford, I’d like to introduce you to your new partner. I will warn both of you this is likely a temporary partnership, but one I trust will do you both some good.”

You smile at Bradford, who tilts his head to the side as he looks you over. It’s clear that he isn’t thrilled about having a partner, having grown used to working alone since becoming a sergeant. As long as he doesn’t treat you like a boot, or worse, like a girl who doesn’t have what it takes to be a cop, you can survive working with him for a few weeks.

What you don’t see, though, is that Tim can look at you and tell you’re a good cop. He reviewed your paperwork and arrest record with Wade yesterday, and he’s impressed by you. You’re good, but you have the potential to be better with the right help. And, for some reason, Wade is convinced that Tim can give you the push you need to be your best.

“Okay, let’s go,” Tim says, turning away as Wade tells you to have a good day.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim acknowledges that you’re not a rookie but warns you from the beginning that you still have something to prove.

“I know you’ve been a cop for a while, but I haven’t seen you in action. Your records are admirable, but I need to see proof that you’re still that good,” he explains. “So, I will test you and challenge you while we’re riding together, but don’t view it as starting over, more like proving grounds than qualifications.”

You nod, remembering something Wade muttered about “Tim Tests,” which you’re sure are unique to Bradford.

“I understand. I’ll do my best, and I want to learn to be better.”

Tim doesn’t reply, and you raise your guard, unimpressed with how shut off he is with you. In general, your past has made you wary around men; after Tim’s insistence that you have something to prove, you are determined to hide everything that could be taken as a sign of weakness. You will do whatever it takes to show you are a good cop, worthy of respect.

Slamming on the brakes, Tim yells, “We’re being ambushed; what do you do?”

“Radio for backup, stay in the shop, stay low, and fire only if necessary,” you answer, nearly robotically, as he catches you off guard.

Tim eases back onto the road, ignoring you once again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Just before your scheduled lunch break, something which you haven’t actually enjoyed in far too long, Tim parks between two old warehouses.

“There’s a suspicious package in the gray building, you’re riding alone and need to check it out,” he explains. “Radio any information as you find it.”

You switch your radio to a private channel with Tim, accepting the call as you exit the shop and enter the building. It’s dark and wet, but you refuse to accept any comments or disdainful looks from Tim if you fail this test, so you will find the package and impress him as quickly as possible.

“7-Adam-9, located suspicious package: brown paper bag situated between steel beams,” you radio.

“Dispatch, requesting additional information,” Tim replies.

You sigh, moving forward to look at the bag because you can’t touch it. When you move, the beams sitting upright in the warehouse shift. Stepping back a second too late, one side of the heavy structure hits the back of your shoulder, shoving you forward into the crate holding the package.

Pain radiates through your shoulder as you move to the side, pulling yourself away from the mess you made with a sharp inhale.

“7-Adam-9, false alarm. Suspicious package is empty. Code 4.”

“Copy 7-Adam-9.”

Taking a step toward the door, you hiss in pain as the pain moves from your shoulder around to your ribs, where you fell against the crate. It seems likely that you broke something or at least got a deep bruise, but telling Tim would be like admitting that you’re weak. So, as you level your expression and cover your pain by walking normally, you decide to hide your pain.

Being labeled weak or incapable, or as before, giving Tim a reason to view you as less than is not an option anymore. Buckling your seatbelt, you press your lips together to keep your pained sounds muted, and the feeling of the seat on your shoulder makes you count down the minutes until you can get out of the shop.

✯✯✯✯✯

As the day goes on, your pain grows in intensity. Each breath causes immeasurable pain, and your stomach turns when you move your shoulder in any direction.

“Wade’s going to ask me, so how’s your first day going?” Tim asks, turning down a residential street to respond to a noise disturbance.

“Fine,” you answer quickly, clenching your jaw to stay quiet.

“Good,” he replies, though his voice sounds different. “Glad you found a station that works for you.”

You can’t tell if his comment is passive-aggressive, implying that you are the issue rather than the station you transferred from. The overbearing pain you’re feeling makes it nearly impossible to care.

“You take point on this one,” Tim offers as he parks by the curb.

“Yes, sir.”

Asking questions and explaining the city’s noise ordinances to the tenant, you’re momentarily distracted from your pain. The moment you turn to return to the shop, though, you’re reminded that your new position isn’t quite as enjoyable as you were expecting.

“Take us back to the station,” Tim says, tossing the shop keys to you.

When you raise your hand to catch the keys, your shoulder screams in protest, and you close your eyes momentarily to hide the pain.

“You alright?” Tim asks.

Nodding, you release a sigh when Tim climbs into the passenger seat, too easily convinced by your answer.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a quick meeting with Wade, discussing your new role, and signing a few documents, you head for the locker room. When you pull your shirt off, you glance in the mirror, surprised to see the size and color of the bruise; your entire shoulder, over to your neck and down around the front of your ribs, is a sickening purple. The yellowish tint around the edges is a sign that it will only worsen before it begins to heal. Attempting to raise your arm again, you feel something shift under your skin and step into one of the bathroom stalls, kneeling as you try to keep yourself from being sick. When you lean your head against the metal wall, the coolness is soothing, and as you finally let yourself acknowledge the pain, it becomes all you can feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim opens Wade’s door, furrowing his brows when he sees you’re not there.

“She left a few minutes ago,” Wade answers.

“Her car’s still here.”

“Must be in the locker room then.”

“Why’d she transfer?” Tim asks, stepping inside to close the door.

“I don’t know, Bradford. You’re going to have to ask her.”

Tim nods, turning away to search for you. He knocks on the locker room door, and when no one answers, he opens it and says your name. Once again met with silence, he steps inside and looks around. Your locker is open, but you’re nowhere to be seen. As he rounds the last row of lockers, he sees someone sitting on the floor in one of the bathroom stalls.

Tim says your name, knocking on the door. It opens at his touch, and he catches it before it hits your arm. Kneeling beside you, he looks across your face, pressing his hand behind your neck as he tries to find the source of your unconsciousness. His hand dips to your upper shoulder, and you groan, opening your eyes.

Tim ignores you as you wake, gently leaning you forward as he surveys the bruise where it’s visible past your tank top.

“Stay awake,” he says, moving you again. “Just your shoulder?”

You nod, and he demands to know: “Home or hospital?”

“Home,” you whisper. “But I can-“

“Obviously you can’t,” Tim snaps, his arms gentler than his voice as he lifts you from the ground.

✯✯✯✯✯

You stay conscious, fighting against the pain as you give Tim directions to your home. After getting you inside and as comfortable as possible, he leaves your side to gather a few things before returning. He gives you a glass of water and a few pain reliever pills, waiting until you’ve taken them to lay an ice pack across your shoulder. You take a deep breath at the cold before catching yourself.

“What else hurts?” Tim asks.

“My ribs,” you admit.

He leans you back gently, pushing your tank top to your sternum as he surveys the darkening bruise across your lower ribcage. Gently moving his hand across your skin, he doesn’t feel anything obviously broken, apologizing as you whimper at the pressure. Pulling the first aid kit he brought from your kitchen to his side, he places several cooling packets over your ribs. 

Satisfied that he’s done all he can do for you, Tim moves to sit across from you, making himself comfortable in your living room.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m not leaving,” he answers quickly, “what if you collapse again?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Tim silences, closing his eyes as he leans back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’ve heard that question dozens of times, but previously, it was asked in a much different tone. Always an accusation that you hadn’t handled something correctly or that you should have let someone else do whatever it was that needed to be done. 

When you look back at Tim, his eyes are on you, and you shrug. His eyes narrow as his gaze intensifies, demanding your answer.

“The last station that I worked at made me nervous to tell people things, especially other cops. All of the guys that I worked with harassed me constantly, and they tried to convince me that I wasn’t a good cop because I was a woman. So, I have trouble trusting other police officers with personal things. During your Tim Tests, I thought that if I acknowledged something had happened, you’d see me the same way.”

“Which way?”

“Weak, incapable,” you answer, trailing off.

“They were bad people,” Tim explains. “They may have been okay cops, but no one deserves to be treated like that.”

You nod, licking your lips as your gaze drops to the blanket across your lap.

“Want to tell me what happened today?” he pries.

“The steel beams around the bag?” Tim nods, so you continue, “They fell. One of them hit my shoulder and knocked me forward.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known that would happen. Besides, you helped me. My last partner would have found a way to blame be.”

“Like I said, bad people. But you… you’re a good person and a good cop,” Tim continues. “I’ve known that since you walked in, but I needed to know that you knew. Getting hurt or being unable to do something on the first try doesn’t make you less of a person, or a cop. Being a woman doesn’t either. And if they didn’t see that, it’s their loss.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.

“And my gain.”

You furrow your brows at Tim, but he leans back and closes his eyes instead of elaborating.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #requests #fem!reader #the rookie

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

could you do ethan x fem reader smut where they aren’t allowed to see each other due to their families feuding??

like real romeo and juliet kind of this where he climbs up into the window while she’s doing skincare or something. i can literally imagine them just talking about how much they missed each other (because they aren’t allowed to be together) then it ends up escalating into like dom ethan smut 😋😋

sorry if that’s confusing!!

Hi! I hope you like this!💕 I had the worst writers block for the last few days and I'm trying to get back into it haha

Check Yes, Juliet - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Your forbidden to see Ethan after some drama between your family and his, so he sneaks through your bedroom window to see you.

Contains: Fluff, a hint of angst, Dom!-ish Ethan(Nothing super rough), I used "good girl" in this because I feel like Ethan would totally say that. oral - m and f receiving, p in v, Unprotected sex(Pulling out though:) Jesus, If I missed anything, let me know 💕

A/N: Ya girl loves pop-punk, especially from the 2000's so that's where I got the title for this lmao.

You grew up with Ethan, quickly becoming best friends because your parents were so close to his…until they weren’t. They had this huge falling out after Richie’s killing spree in Woodsboro. When you were both told you couldn’t see each other, you rebelled, and it only made the two of you even closer. So close that it turned into a secret relationship.

During summer break before you were both getting ready to start college, it got so much harder to see Ethan. Your mom worked from home, and your dad saved up his PTO so he could take time off to spend time with you before you left for university. It was the same one Ethan was going to, and you felt a little relieved that you’d finally have the opportunity to be with him without worrying about what your parents thought. They probably wouldn’t even let you go if they found out he was going to the same school, especially after they forced you to block his number and all of his social media. Ethan found his way around it because he couldn’t just not talk to you.

You’d just gotten home from dinner with your parents, excusing yourself to get ready for bed. You were so tired after a long day with them, and you couldn’t wait to talk to Ethan. You had this app your parents had no idea that you used to message him. You let him know that you were home, and waited for him to respond as you took your makeup off.

When he messaged you back, your eyes widened, wondering if he was crazy when he said he was outside of your house. You walked over to your window and opened the curtain to see your boyfriend standing in your front yard, a sweet smile on his lips as you quietly opened the window.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, as he held his finger up to your mouth for you to be quiet. He walked over to the tree beside your window, easily climbing up it as he made his way to you. “Ethan, this is crazy,” you said, as he crawled inside, his feet hitting the floor harder than he expected them to. You soon heard someone running up the stairs. “Shit. Hide under my bed.”

“You okay, sweetheart?” your mom asked as she opened the door. She glanced at the opened window behind you, a curious look on her face as she turned her attention back to you.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just tripped over the pile of laundry I’ve been refusing to put away,” you lied, as she rolled her eyes.

“I told you to clean that up. Goodness, I thought someone broke in here when I saw the open window,” she said, doing a double take of the room.

“No, I tripped on the way to close it. I forgot to before we left earlier,” you said, as she nodded. “I need to get some sleep if we’re getting up early tomorrow.”

“Okay, don’t forget to set your alarm. Wake up as early as you need to. Your dad is sleeping with the sound machine, so we won’t hear it,” she said, as you innocently smiled at her. You could only imagine the ideas your boyfriend had running through his head as he listened to your mom. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you said, as she walked back out of the room, closing the door behind her.

You quietly walked over to the door and locked it as Ethan crawled out from under your bed.

“Hey, baby,” he said, walking up behind you and wrapping his hands around your waist. “I missed you so much.”

You turned in his arms to face him, “Ethan, have you lost your mind? If you get caught in here, we’re dead.”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he said, pulling his hands off you. “I can’t believe this shit. We’re both eighteen and we’re still letting our parents control our lives.”

You sighed as you reached over to grab his hands and place them back on his hips before putting yours around his neck. “I am happy to see you, babe. I just don’t want our parents to not pay for school. That’s the only thing that’s kept us apart.”

“We could always run away together,” he said, before leaning down to kiss you. “I’d rather drown in student loan debt than keep doing this shit.”

“Just three more weeks. We’ll be a few hours from here with no parents to keep their eye on us,” you smiled, “Just think of all the dates, all the fun things we can do-“

“All the sex we can have,” he said, cutting you off as his hands started to rub against your hips. You started to blush as you thought about it. “We could do that right now…,” he suggested, gently squeezing you. “As hot as the nudes are that you send me, you have no idea how bad I’ve been craving the real thing.” He leaned down to start placing kisses on your neck, making you whimper. “I can’t wait to taste that sweet pussy.”

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped out, as his hand started to rub your pussy over your pajama bottoms.

“I know you missed this, too. How many times have you fingered yourself and wished they were mine?” he questioned, sliding his hand inside your pajama shorts. “You’re so wet, baby.”

“My fingers aren’t as good as yours,” you whimpered, as he slid one of his fingers inside you. He angled his hand just right so he could hit that spot inside of you, your legs almost giving out when he pressed against it hard enough. “Can you use two?”

He started to laugh a little, “You can barely stand up with one. I don’t know if you can handle two.”

“We could go to my bed,” you suggested, as he shook his head.

“No, babe,” he said, pulling his hand out and backing you up against the door. He slid your pajama shorts and panties down at the same time before he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Put your leg on my shoulder,” he said, as your eyes grew wide.

“What if I hurt you? Or what if I fall? My mom will definitely come back up here if she hears anything else,” you said, your tone nervous as Ethan smiled up at you.

“You’ll still have one foot on the ground. And you can put as much weight on me as you need to. I just need your legs spread enough for me to eat you out, babe.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, before doing what he asked. He teased your clit with his tongue before he started to sloppily eat you out. “Baby, that feels so good.”

One of your hands tangled in his hair as he pleasured you, making him groan into your pussy.

He kept going until your legs started to shake, letting him know how close you were. He pulled his mouth away as you pouted in response.

“I’m going to get you off, baby. Hang on,” he said, gently sliding your leg off him so you could fully stand up. He stood up in front of you, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy. You grabbed his shirt, pulling his body closer to you yours as he fingered you.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, his face inches from yours. “I’m so scared I’m going to be loud.”

“Shh, you won’t be,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. His mouth caught all your sounds as his fingers pressed harder on that spongy spot inside you.  His free hand went to your hip to hold you against the door as your walls started to flutter around his fingers. You were tugging on his shirt so hard you knew you’d stretch it as the feeling washed over you, your legs turning to jell-o as he got you through it.

He pulled his mouth away from yours after you stopped whimpering, your hazy eyes connecting to his dark ones. Your hand reached down to start palming him over his jeans, the feeling making him gasp.

“Let me return the favor,” you smirked, dropping to your knees in front of him. He watched you, his breathing getting heavier after you freed his hard cock from his boxers.

You lazily started to stroke him as you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip in between your teeth. You looked so innocent in front of him, but he knew you were far from that.

“Look at you, being such a good girl down on your knees for me,” he said, running his hand through your hair. You whimpered at his praise, your pussy starting to throb. You leaned forward, licking the underside of his cock before swirling your tongue over his tip. “You seriously give the best head.”

He meant what he was saying, but he also knew what his praising did to you. Some of his best orgasms have come from you just sucking his cock, especially when he praised you the whole way through it.

You started to take him further into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. “Yeah, baby, just like that,” Ethan said, his grip tightening on your hair once his tip was far enough back to make you gag. “You make me feel so good.”

It didn’t take long for tears to be streaming down your cheeks from all the gagging, his cock soaked in your saliva as he started to thrust into your mouth. You knew he was close, his groans getting whinier.

“Fuck, that perfect mouth is going to make me cum,” he said, “Where do you want it?”

You grabbed the back of his thighs to keep him close, letting him know that you wanted him to cum in your mouth. His thrusts started to get erratic as he groaned, releasing into your mouth. His hand in your hair was shaky as your mouth kept moving, the slight overstimulation feeling so good for him.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” he said after a few more seconds. When you pulled away, your chin was covered in your spit as you wiped it on the back of your hand. “Did you like that?”

“Mhm,” you said sweetly, nodding as you took your shirt off.

“This sweet, innocent shit you do during sex just does something to me,” he groaned, pulling his own shirt off.

“Oh yeah? What does it do to you?” you asked, as you laid down on your bed to wait for him.

“It makes me want to not take it easy on you, because I know you can take it,” he smirked, as your hands started to massage your breasts.

“What if I can’t take it?” you asked, your voice soft as he stared you down.

“Then I’ll make you take it,” he said, as he crawled on the bed beside you. “You know if you tell me to stop, I will, but I think you’ll just beg me to go faster or fuck you harder.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, as you felt his hand cup over your pussy. “Just don’t make me be too loud.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said, as he started to crawl on top of you. Your legs instinctively spread for him as you waited for him to fuck you, but he just teased you. He dipped the tip of his cock inside you, then pulled it out to rub it against your clit. He kept doing it until you finally started to whine. “You want it?” he asked, smirking at you as you started to squirm.

“I fucking need it,” you said, your eyes pleading with his. “Please, baby.”

“Only cause you asked so nicely,” he said, as he stuck more than the head of his cock inside of you, the feeling of him stretching you out making you moan. “So fucking tight,” he gasped, filling you up further with each small thrust, until he was fully inside of you.

He wanted to tease you with slow thrusts, but he couldn’t. You felt so amazing around him as his hips started to move faster.

“That feel good?” he asked, as you moaned in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You were wrapping your legs around him so he could go deeper when he pulled them away, pressing your thighs against your tummy. The new position had him hitting the right spot, his cock filling you so good that you couldn’t hold in your whimpers.

“So deep,” you moaned, as his face tensed up, a feral look in his eyes as he started to pound into you. “Oh fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. You can take it,” he grunted. Your jaw dropped as you were on the edge of your orgasm. “Fuck, you’re already squeezing my cock. You gonna cum?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, as you felt your legs being spread a little from the position he had them in.

“Rub your clit, baby,” he said, as both of his hands on the back of your thighs gripped you tighter. You did as he said, the euphoric feeling hitting you so hard that you cried out. “Fuck,” Ethan groaned, “Try to be quiet, baby.”

“I can’t” you whimpered, as he chased his own orgasm.

“Bite your lip, cover your mouth, do something. I’m so close,” he said, “I thought you didn’t want us to get caught.”

“I, fuck..I don’t,” you got out between your whimpers.

“Gonna cum,” he said, pulling his cock out and shooting his cum all over your thighs. His eyes kept fluttering as he caught his breath. “I need to find something to get this off you.” You felt his release start to drip down your thighs, towards your ass.

“Uh, I have tissues on my dresser,” you suggested, as he took a couple more deep breaths.

“I can’t wait to do this all the time with you,” he said, as he stood up to grab some tissues.

“Yeah, because dorm sex is going to happen all the time,” you joked, as he smiled.

“I don’t know, maybe my roommate will be cool,” he said, cleaning you up. “Shit, I’ll get to introduce you to people as my girlfriend.”

“You can’t wait for that, can you?” you asked, smiling at him as he shook his head.

“For real though, I think I’ll get so used to spending all my free time with you that I’ll just lose my mind whenever we’re home on break,” he sighed, throwing the tissues away before he laid down beside you.

“You could always just sneak through my window again.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

[obsolescent]

Ok so I wanted to add to that anon. Personally, I’d see that Leon scrambles for answers. He tries to keep himself together. He really does. But as time goes on and he bottles and bottles, he just breaks.

I’m talking he has been at 99 for a long time, but he did well hiding it so everyone sees him at like 20-40 before he hits 100. When he hits 100?

Catatonic. He becomes still from the depression, the trauma and the exhaustion. He might repeat words spoken to him but that’s not *Leon*. He’s completely shut down. His brain physically can’t handle it anymore and goes into a literal crash/power down mode.

The other problem is that he’s extremely vulnerable in this state. So his anxiety is sky high. It’s just he’s unable to react to the world properly. He’s frozen and he’s scared.

If he has an s/o or friend or something, they’ll need to step up and make sure he’s at least drinking water. And they’ll need to be close by when Leon manages to get out of his catatonic state. One of the rare times he’s cry is ‘waking up’ from catatonia.

Content warnings: discussion of mental illness and disordered behavior. This may be distressing for some, you have been forewarned.

Apologies for the delay in this one but I saw this when it was first sent in and…It made me so sad I teared up. Just thinking of him isolating and closing himself to all who care for him... (I had to write a scene to make me feel better because this about did me in.)

He would be hanging on by a literal thread for years and try everything he can find in books and online until that one time that just unravels it all. He’ll know he’s on the verge, he wouldn’t know what would exactly happen but, to be sure, he’d cease all contact with anyone and take PTO.

It would be very hard to reach him in that state once things fall apart, it would send his friends into a panic because they would have no idea what’s happened to him.

Thankfully you would have a spare key to his place and you would wait until your nerves are absolutely frayed before you go and let yourself in. You’ll respect his privacy until it gets to the point that you’re worrying for his safety. Afraid of what he may have done to himself.

Bracing yourself for what you might find, thankfully you find him on the couch, alive though disheveled, staring at the ceiling. Approaching him cautiously, you softly speak his name. The sound of your voice has him lurching upwards, gasping in surprise at your presence.

He hadn’t heard you come in. You knew then that something was gravely amiss.

You stare at each other for a tense moment before he crumbles.

Head in his hands, sobs releasing tremors through his body. You rush around the side of the couch and pull him into your arms. You rock back and forth with a gentle rhythm, his form abuts yours. No words exchanged between the two of you, Leon’s mouth wouldn’t have been able to form sentences at that moment, regardless.

The sour scent of body odor would not be subtle, his hair oily from lack of care. You don’t care, you’re actually glad to smell it, to feel his body sagging against yours, the dirty locks pressed against your cheek. None of that matters, what does is that he’s breathing.

You’re not sure what’s happened, uncertain you can fathom what he’s been going through. The knowledge of his job leaving him battered and bruised, some days where he’s bed ridden in recovery is brought to the forefront of your mind.

You’ve pulled him closer as your thoughts run rampant, and his hands move. Away from his face, he embraces you and pulls even more. Your bodies would fuse together if there was any more grasping to be done.

Leon tries to find words, though they’re not much other than soft murmurs, which is stopped with a “Shh,” and a caressing of his back.

“Don’t need to speak, s’alright. I’m not going anywhere,” whispered against his head.

None else needs to be spoken. They’ll be time to listen, to speak once more once he’s convalescent.

He lets you guide him through the space. Even with his mind muddled, he knows you mean the best.

The lights remain off to beget as little distress as possible. Your mind knows the geography of his home, letting your body usher the two through the darkness, to his room.

You help him find purchase against the bed, and once settled, your bodies coalescence.

The day and time are lost to you as Leon is enfolded against your self. You will give him all that he needs.

#whenever I think of him in a situation like this. my own feelings make a downturn #need my comfort character to always be in comfort forever more #o asks #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil

[sorry-moots]

Inversion of Genesis But I Changed It

i'm sorry this is late and short but college is really kickin my ass that's a lie i just procrastinated writing this and now i'm procrastinating my assignments too WHOOHOO character featured: scaramouche, haypasia, lumine, mention of tighnari cws: none :) wc: 1,016

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Chapter Nine

“You’re just in time,” Scaramouche says as you walk in. You had left to grab lunch and had been dragging your feet but the harbinger managed to pique your interest.

“Just in time for what?” you ask, eager to know what had your superior so excited. It’s not every day he’s this cheery and you were planning to enjoy his good humor.

“Take my hand and close your eyes,” he commands, and you do so without hesitation.

“Behold, my first follower.”

You open your eyes again and you’re no longer in the office. You’re now surrounded by trees and flowers and green glass. As you take everything in, you become aware of a young woman sleeping on a small bed in the arboretum. It takes a minute for you to process everything and reply.

“Your first follower? What about me?” you ask, faux offended.

“You’re not my follower,” he shoots back. “You're my right hand.”

“Oh really?” you tease. “And just what are my benefits as your right hand?”

He smirks as he answers, “Front row tickets to my neverending awesomeness.”

For once, you’re the one rolling your eyes. “I was hoping for PTO but that works, too, I guess.”

The banter eventually stops, but the atmosphere remains amiable and light. The two of you are content to watch the sleeping woman in the comfortable silence, until she receives a guest.

“Oh, this day just keeps getting better!” the harbinger exclaims. “Watch this, I’m gonna start talking to her– it’s gonna freak her out.”

You watch as the traveler looks around, searching for your boss, not realizing he is only there in spirit. Her little companion is flying around erratically like an anxious gnat.

“...I know you must be curious. I might as well tell you that I entered Haypasia’s consciousness the moment I sensed your touch.”

As they talk, you finally entertain the thoughts nagging at the back of your head.

If he was able to project himself to the traveler through Haypasia hundreds of miles away, how come he needs to hold my hand?

Clearly, he can maintain a telepathic connection without physical contact— how else would he be talking to the traveler? And she can definitely see him, too; she’s staring right at him. There’s no reason for Scaramouche to be holding your hand. He just is.

Just as that train of thought began to consume you, the harbinger’s voice took on a hint of ire, detectable only because you spend so much time with him. He doesn’t look mad, per se, but whatever the traveler said has soured his good mood.

“Both good and bad things can be considered gifts. After all, gods are not expected to abide by reason.”

Thunder rumbles, simultaneously distant and in your ears. Through your connection with Scaramouche, you can see the sky darkening above Pardis Dhyai. A lightning storm of his own creation. Screams quickly follow.

The greenhouse blinks out of view and you’re disoriented until you move and feel Scaramouche’s fingers tighten reflexively around yours. Realizing what he had done, he drops your hand like a squirming beetle.

A heavy silence hung in the air. Not wanting to further upset your boss, you went back to your desk to sort through the correspondence.

Hours pass and you're finally about to leave the office when you notice Scaramouche lost in thought. As wont to avoid irritating him as you are, your curiosity– or worry?– gets the best of you.

“Lord Scaramouche…?” you call out. He raises his head and you continue. “Did the traveler say something to trouble you?”

“That little twerp tried to talk me out of ascending to godhood,” he growled. “She said that my allies plan to infuse my consciousness with divine knowledge capsules. She said that I’ll change, that I won’t be the same.

“That they’re essentially turning me into a new person,” he finished.”

You contemplated his words with a concentrated look. No words would reassure him, so you took a different approach.

“Well, are you sure you even want to ascend to godhood?”

The harbinger looks positively scandalized but you keep going. “I mean, think of all you’ve accomplished!

“You command an army of soldiers. You answer directly to Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. You’re already really powerful on your own and, I dunno, I kinda like you the way you are now…” You trail off at the end, cracking your knuckles nervously. “Well whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

He’s still staring at you with his mouth agape, so you turn to walk back to your desk before a question comes to mind.

“By the way, sir… Why did you electrocute that one guy? Your accuracy is usually perfect, but just now you hit someone who was protecting Haypasia.”

Broken from his reverie, his lip curls. “I’m not a fan of foxes.”

*****

Before you parted ways at the hotel last, Scaramouche told you he didn’t need you to come, essentially giving you the day off.

Unfortunately for him, you hadn’t taken a day off since before you started working for him. With your overabundance of time, you found yourself itching to bake. Three hours later, you stood in the hotel’s kitchen with a perfect custard pudding. And no one to share it with.

You know he’s not a fan of sweets, but you ultimately decide that your boss should be your judge. In a blink, the pudding is packed into a basket and ready to go.

The walk to the base is most pleasant. A gentle breeze softens the sun's intensity and plays with your hair, caressing your face like a fond mother. The cheerful sun, the billowing clouds, and the song of the dusk birds made for the perfect ambience. Such tranquility could not, however, mask the banging coming from underground.

Without much thought, you pick up the pace. Scaramouche is probably getting rough with the soldiers again…

A moment later, you arrive at the mecha suit lab and push the doors open. To your horror, it is not a Fatuus that Scaramouche has engaged.

It’s the Traveler.

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tags: @lacunaanonymoused, @dollpoetwriting a/n: this would've been longer but then it would've turned into a 2-for-1 chapter and that would really irk me

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #reader insert #genshin impact #x reader #slow burn #scaramouche x y/n #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche

[wyattjohnston]

need a little company - nick blankenburg

summary: morgan hasn't seen nick in years and her strongest memories of him are the crush he had on her in college. when he gets signed to columbus after years apart, morgan realises that maybe she should have given him a chance.

chapter word count: 4.8k

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In a moment of peak doom and gloom, Morgan wished she was at work.

The snowstorm outside was what she’d expected to wake up to; what she hadn’t expected was for her bedside lamp to produce zero light or for her house to be significantly colder than any other morning that month.

She used the last of her hot water to take a shower and then sat on her couch, pretending that she was a good Midwesterner and not affected by a little snow, and hoped that she got a good update on when her power would be back on.

As the morning got later and later, Morgan started to feel a spike of panic—the estimated time for the power being fixed was pushed back every half an hour until it was clear she wouldn’t be seeing light for at least another day, and the window for sorting out where she was going was narrowing.

She needed to get hold of Nick before he left for the airport.

It was becoming a little frightening how quickly Nick answered her calls. They were in their mid-20s, so it wasn’t weird for either of them to have their phone on them at all times. Morgan just usually waited until it rang a few times before answering.

Nick answered on the first ring every time without fail.

“Miss me already?” he asked in lieu of a proper greeting.

Morgan did, truthfully, but she wouldn’t tell him that. “I’m about to ask you something a little wild.”

“I’m listening.”

“So… the storms have, uh, they’ve taken out my power?” she said—asked—cautiously, unsure of how to even approach her wild idea without just blurting it out. “And—I was wondering if I could maybe stay at your place while you’re at home for Christmas.”

Just as quickly as he’d answered the phone, Nick said, “Come to Michigan with me.”

“That’s an even worse idea now than it was last week,” Morgan scoffed, glaring at the flickering shadows created by her candles.

“Why?”

“Because you’re leaving this afternoon. It’s Christmas, and there’s no way there’s any plane tickets left.”

“It’s a four-hour drive. I can’t, but if you don’t mind driving in the storm, we can leave whenever you’re ready, and be there before dinner. I’ll try to get you a ticket right now, though. I’ll call you back.”

“Nick—if you don’t want me staying in your house without you—”

“I don’t want you spending Christmas by yourself. I want to spend Christmas with you, Mo. Can I sort this out and call you back?”

Morgan relented, even if only because she had no clue how else to respond. She waited for him to call back, not knowing if the flight or the drive would be worse for her self-control.

None of it worried her too much from a work perspective, as she used half of her generous PTO to take a break over Christmas when nobody else in the company wanted it.

From a personal perspective… spending Christmas at Nick’s family home with Nick’s family was one of the more daunting things she could think of doing.

Her phone rang after an hour of silence. She’d been preparing herself for a total reversal of his suggestion and was trying to plan how she was going to keep warm until her power was back on.

“We’re going to have to drive,” he told her, sounding a little harried and out of breath. “So, if you can pack enough for four days and walk to mine as quick as you can, we can leave as soon as you get here.”

“Nick… Just get on the plane, I’ll be fine here,” she insisted, hating that he was changing all of his plans at the very last minute just because the universe and the weather hated her.

“No can do. I already told my mom you were coming, and she’s preparing Katrina’s old bedroom as we speak.”

“You can’t use your mom against me.”

“It’s working, though. Isn’t it?”

Morgan huffed, stared out the window at the ongoing storm and bounced on the spot for a moment as she thought over the idea, over Karin expecting her, and finally said, “I need to pack.”

She rushed through packing enough for four nights, including something nice for Christmas Day when Nick made out that it was an all-out, extended family affair that had Morgan returning back to the idea of just staying in her frozen house. She managed, though, and packed far too much for what was essentially a long weekend and met Nick in his garage where he was waiting at his car with a smile even bigger than she was used to.

Relief coursed through her when she saw that his car was still a very sensible Toyota and not an expensive luxury car that he expected her to drive without warning—she hadn’t even realised that was a possibility until she was there.

Nick started talking instantly, setting up the route on Google Maps and hitting play on Spotify. Morgan was actually quite distracted by the CarPlay screen that took up the centre of the console because her car interior had to be pulled apart to plug in an aux cord. The four-hour estimated travel time stared back at Morgan, the longest drive she’d done since driving to Columbus, and she took a steadying breath. Being in a car with Nick for that long was going to be the hardest part of the entire trip.

“So, my mom has set up Katrina’s room for you, and Nolan will be staying in Alex’s room.”

“Nolan?” Morgan clarified, even though she knew it would be Moyle. “Does your family just take in strays?”

“My mom can’t say no to feeding somebody, you know that.”

She did know. Intimately. While she had never been one to focus on her weight, the lack of running in her life combined with the increase in hearty food was making her aware of the scales for the first time in a long time. She would never decline a home cooked meal, though, so it wasn’t worrying her too much.

Nick gave her a quick rundown of his extended family, as well as some extra information about his siblings. Morgan tried to commit it all to memory as best she could, even if she knew she would forget it the second she was faced with an actual person to put to a name.

Two hours into their drive, when they were nearing Toledo, Nick asked, “Do you want to stop for a bit?”

Morgan’s brow furrowed as she looked at their estimated arrival time of just after two. They hadn’t stopped yet, and she wasn’t mad at the idea of driving without a break if it meant getting there sooner.

“I could use a stretch, and I think your knee could, too.”

It wasn’t until Nick pointed it out that she realised she’d been rubbing at her sore knee and couldn’t say how long she’d been doing it.

“Can we stop somewhere I can buy presents?” she suggested, not ready to admit that it was to give her knee a break. Nick wasn’t stupid enough to miss the deflection.

It wasn’t until they were inside a shopping mall that Nick asked who she wanted to buy presents for.

Incredulously, Morgan’s eyes widened, and she scrambled to remember the list she’d been creating in the car, “Your dad? Your siblings? Moyle?”

“Nothing for my mom?” he asked, teasing, and pointing into the Yankee Candle store they were walking past.

Morgan directed him away with a hand on his forearm. It was a very nice forearm, even through his thick sweater. That wasn’t something she had ever thought about.

“I already bought her something when I thought she might still be in Columbus. I was going to run it over to you before you left for your flight.”

She would have had to see him anyway to give him his present to open on Christmas Day. She wasn’t even sure he realised she had something for him tucked away in her bag.

“Nobody is expecting presents,” he assured her, still being easily moved in any direction she led him.

“Sure,” Morgan nodded in agreement, only to immediately continue, “but I can’t just hand one to your mom and not get anything for anyone else. That’s so rude.”

Nick conceded and agreed to help her find something small for his family, only if she promised to not buy anything for Nolan who, he assured her, would not have taken the time to get her anything. That at least made sense to Morgan—nobody had known she was even coming until that morning.

Morgan had never had a more rushed shopping experience—and the only person rushing her was herself. They did manage to get out with presents for Karl, Alex and Katrina. Morgan hoped they were worth it. Even in her haste she made sure to buy something nice, something usable, something they would want. Nick wasn’t always very believable when he was trying to assure her she wasn’t just buying garbage. She didn’t think he was as bad a liar as she was; maybe she was wrong about it.

Walking around and stretching meant that Morgan made it through the rest of the drive without too much pain. There was some ibuprofen in her future regardless.

Karin greeted them when they arrived, Morgan melting into the hug because she missed them even after less than two weeks since her last. Karin didn’t seem bothered by the length of it. Her hug with Nick was just as long, anyway.

Between the three of them—two, really, with Nick on crutches—they managed to bring in everything packed into the Toyota and carry it up to the second floor and the bedrooms. Morgan’s bags were dropped into what she assumed had been Katrina’s childhood bedroom, but she didn’t stay there for very long before she wandered back down the hall to Nick’s room.

“Karl will be home soon, and we’ll have some dinner,” Karin said as they passed each other in the hall.

Morgan knocked on the doorframe to the room Karin had walked out of and tilted her head around the corner when Nick acknowledged her. He was simultaneously packing and unpacking, switching out clothes that he’d brought back from Columbus for things still in his drawers, his bad leg kneeling on a chair that looked like it belonged in the dining room. Morgan sat down on the end of his bed to watch.

Nick looked between her and the door, his cheeks brightening suddenly, and he stumbled over his words, “If we’re in a room together—or if you’re in a room with Nolan—or I guess the three of us together—the door—she knows we’re adults it’s just—a married thing and—”

“It’s fine,” Morgan said slowly with her head tilted. “Doors open. Pretty standard.”

With still red cheeks, Nick’s shoulders fell, and he mumbled, “Feels a bit like we’re in high school.”

Morgan hummed, it did feel a bit unnecessary when they were in their mid-20s and, more importantly, not in a relationship. Them not being in a relationship, though, was all the more reason to let it slide. She had nothing to hide.

A thought crossed her mind, and she couldn’t help but tease, “You bring a lot of girls home in high school?”

“We had, ya know,” Nick mumbled, again, his cheeks growing impossibly redder, “assignments and stuff.”

“Some biology? Human anatomy?” she prodded, leaning forward.

Nick’s head shook, a nervous laugh bubbling out of his mouth, “My mom would have had my head if I’d pulled that.”

“You must have gone wild when you were shipped off to Alberta.” Morgan leant forward so excitedly that she nearly face planted off the bed. “And then to college? Nicholas Blankenburg, have you been holding out on me?”

His laughter stopped, and the mood in the room turned sombre rather abruptly. Morgan sat up straighter, worried about what she’d done to cause the sudden change.

“Was too busy pining over you in college to go wild.”

Morgan’s breath hitched. “You didn’t pine over me for four years.”

“Not four, no.”

Nick smiled gently as he spoke, the eye contact he was making with her, earnest and intense, had Morgan shifting with nervous energy.

“When is Nolan getting here?” she asked, deflecting.

“Right now!”

Morgan’s head snapped to the door at the loud, new voice. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, Nolan who had shouted at them. He walked into the room with his arms held wide and made a beeline for Nick. Morgan couldn’t help but feel like she was interrupting something when they hugged each other, speaking to each other in low, excited voices, so she took to looking around Nick’s unexpectedly bare room.

She’d expected more trophies, more jerseys, more proof that he’d played hockey his entire life. There were a few things, some posters and hockey sticks—

“Mo!”

Morgan looked forward to Nolan standing directly in front of her, his arms stretched just as wide as they had been for Nick. She rose to her feet and was immediately swept into a hug as if she was a long-lost friend and not just someone who, for two years, had been in the same, very expanded group.

Regardless, she greeted him happily and warmly. It was a hockey boy thing she’d never forgotten, that they all very much treated everybody they liked as if they were family. Nick’s easy acceptance in her life had been proof enough, but Nolan dropping down onto the bed beside her and starting up his own teasing of Nick did a good job at solidifying it.

Morgan didn’t even think as she followed Nick up the staircase—it was just the two of them, Nolan nowhere to be seen. She stretched out on Nick’s bed after switching on his bedside lamp to light the room, watching as he hobbled around the room, hanging up his coat and removing his tie. The movement was getting smoother, without a doubt, but there was still a noticeable caution.

“Your family is really great,” she whispered. “You’re so lucky to have them.”

She held her breath as he laid on the bed beside her and ignored the swoop in her stomach as he faced her and put his hands under his cheek on the pillow.

“Can I ask why you don’t talk to yours? I guessed it was pretty bad when you didn’t spend Thanksgiving with them, and now you’re here for Christmas.”

Her shrug was awkward, but she tried to buy herself time to think of an answer he would understand.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s… People who are tight with their families don’t always get it.”

The tension that fell over the room was what Morgan had been worried about, the sudden tightness of Nick’s mouth as he considered what she’d said and the inevitable conclusions he would jump to if she didn’t elaborate. Except, if anybody would accept her not elaborating it would be Nick. He very clearly wasn’t going to push her, even if he had started to frown and looked anywhere but her face.

“I haven’t—”

“You don’t have to, Mo, it’s okay.”

“I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family since I left for college,” she continued, her voice firm enough to ensure Nick knew she was comfortable with continuing. “My parents and I never saw eye-to-eye, and they couldn’t stand the idea of me going to college, especially not for cross country.”

“What did they want you to do?”

“Marry Drew, and start popping out kids.” Morgan sighed, saying the real reason, “Stay where they could keep an eye on me.”

“I can’t imagine anyone ever needing to keep an eye on you.”

“I was too worldly for their liking. Made me a bad daughter.”

She smiled—to herself, mostly—forever amused by the idea that she of all people was too worldly, that leaving Ohio for Michigan was some dangerous and exotic adventure, that returning to Ohio was her hooking up with the devil. Nick found it just as amusing, or maybe he just found her amusement amusing because he started smiling, too, and, before Morgan knew it, they were laughing together.

It quickly got out of hand, laughing at absolutely nothing, but hard enough that neither of them was really making much noise.

The distance between them was slowly slipping away as they laughed, Morgan listing forward with every desperate attempt at inhaling. Nick wasn’t leaning away, either, though, not even when the laughter eventually stopped, and they were just lying beside each other again.

With just the bedside lamp lighting the room and a small stream of light coming from the staircase, Morgan was captivated by the angelic glow on Nick’s already soft expression. An admission tumbled from her lips without much forethought; she didn’t even feel panicked by it.

“I regretted saying ‘no’ when you asked me out. Not right away, but you were really good about it and limited the flirting, and by the time you weren’t a freshman, and I didn’t have to feel weird about it… you stopped flirting all together.”

A conflicted grimace morphed onto Nick’s face, not bad enough for Morgan to regret what she’d said, but enough that if she’d known she would have held onto it for another moment.

“It was two-fold: that sort of persistence usually gets creepy, but it also sucked to get shut down like I did.”

“I heard you got a girlfriend.”

“Sophomore year, yeah. After I stopped asking about you all the time other girls started to pay attention to me.”

Morgan didn’t spend much time around the hockey team in her senior year—Nick’s sophomore year. The cross-country team’s strong connection to them had disappeared with the graduation of Sasha and Brendan, and any other friendships that had formed were enough for a plus-one to a party but not for either entire team to show up and wreak havoc.

Those friendships and plus-ones were more than enough, however, to get all the gossip that floated from the men’s hockey team, including Nicholas Blankenburg and his lovely, blonde, rowing team girlfriend.

“Nothing to do with you being twenty-one and on the hockey team?” she teased, combined with a gentle poke to his ribs.

He smirked, even if it was unexpected and self-disparaging, before shrugging coyly and admitting, “It didn’t hurt.”

Silence settled between them, Morgan just choosing to smile at Nick knowingly while still wishing that he’d started at UMich straight out of high school.

Nick’s eyes flickered to the door, and he said, “Hi Mom,” without any reservations, without moving an inch.

“It’s getting late,” Karin said from the doorway. “It might be time to let Morgan get ready for bed.”

Morgan knew that they were being told because Karin didn’t want them sharing a bed. If Morgan was less happy about being there, she might have been offended by the insinuation that she and Nick would get up to no good—they wouldn’t because they weren’t together. There was nothing for Karin to worry about, though, and nothing for Morgan to feel caught about because, despite being quite close to each other, they were on top of the covers, not at all touching.

Nick pulled his phone out of his pocket, then revealed the time to the two of them. It said it was nearing eleven—later than she had expected.

“It is bedtime,” Morgan conceded, rolling to plant her feet on the floor. When she was standing, she stretched out her back—they’d been lying there for a couple hours, and she didn’t realise how stiff she was until she was upright.

“I’ll see you kids in the morning. Make sure you get some sleep; it’s going to be a big day.”

“Course, mom,” Nick said, sitting up against the headboard.

They all said their good nights, and Morgan lingered for just a moment to smile at Nick. She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to stay, to curl up under the covers beside him, but let the thought go.

She ducked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and take off her makeup before she changed into her pyjamas.

Nolan passed the bathroom and stopped in Nick’s door; Morgan only saw him out of the corner of her eye, and she must have been out of sight for him because he didn’t so much as poke his head in to say goodnight.

“I kept her distracted as long as I could, but I’m really bad at rummy, bro.”

Morgan could only assume that Nick responded, but she couldn’t hear; she was a little desperate to know if he had, to know what he’d said, but couldn’t very well ambush them and ask. She kept brushing her teeth and heard Nolan’s side of their conversation, though it was just them saying goodnight to each other.

She and Nolan entered the hallway at the same time, Nolan’s eyebrows raising just a little as they crossed paths. Morgan gave no indication that she heard anything—because she didn’t, really—just said goodnight, that she'd see him in the morning.

In the many years since Morgan had had a proper Christmas celebration, she didn’t think she’d missed it. Her family had been small—her, her parents, her dad’s parents and brother—so it had never felt like the huge affair she saw amongst her friends or on television. The madness around it always felt overdramatic.

Until she saw the Blankenburgs’ Christmas Day.

Despite talking to Nick until late and then lying in bed for far too long replaying their entire conversation, Morgan was roused before eight by a lot of noise coming from downstairs. It sounded like everyone had been awake for hours, they were so rowdy.

She popped her head into the hallway to get a read on if she had the time to have a shower and ran into Nolan at the top of the stairs. He’d been trying to sneak about, judging by the caught-out expression on his face. As soon as he realised it was a very awake Morgan, he grabbed her by the wrist and shouted down the stairs.

“She’s awake!”

Loud cheers resonated from the living room.

Gathered in front of the Christmas tree was Nick’s family—his parents, his siblings and their partners—drinking Karin’s delicious hot chocolate. They were clearly waiting for her to join them before they could start, and it formed a pit in the bottom of Morgan’s stomach.

She rushed to sit beside Nick on the couch, ignoring the skip in her heartbeat at the sight of him in his robe with his hair still in brushed. Everyone was wearing their robes except for Morgan as she’d been ambushed before she had the chance to grab it.

To make up for the lack of an extra layer, she sat so close to Nick she was practically on top of him. He didn’t flinch.

Panic set in when Morgan realised they were going to be opening presents. The process of how they would be opening them hadn’t really crossed her mind, and she was met with the prospect of everybody sitting and watching as each present was opened.

Alex had been given the task of handing out presents which meant Morgan, thankfully, didn’t need to leave Nick’s side. That meant, though, that she got a front row view of him opening her present for him.

There was a very unsubtle theme to her presents—the ‘lucky golf towel’, printed golf socks and a personalised scorecard holder which she honestly had bought blindly with her fingers crossed.

She chanced a look at Nick’s face when he’d opened everything, after seeing him run his finger over the monogram on the scorecard holder, and looked away instantly because she couldn’t bear the softness with which he was looking at her.

When Alex handed her a present from Nick, Morgan frowned at the size and weight of it. She opened it carefully, doing her best to ignore Nick’s close watch.

“Nick, this is ridiculous,” she protested, seeing the Nintendo Switch packaging.

“It’s selfish,” he assured her, his arm finally wrapping around her shoulders. “We can finally play games together when we’re not in the same room.”

She thanked him in a whisper and stared down at the gift. When she lifted her eyes for half a second, she caught Nolan’s eye just long enough to register the wink he sent her way.

And still it paled in comparison to the gift labelled from Mom + Dad. The label itself was enough to make Morgan want to cry, and, when she revealed the small Louis Vuitton bag inside, she just let the tears fall.

“Now I know where he gets it from,” Morgan managed to squeak out, referencing the ridiculousness she had accused Nick of.

Karin told her there was something inside the bag—Morgan couldn’t believe there was more—and, sure enough, Morgan unzipped the bag and pulled out the second part of her gift.

She was out from under Nick’s arm, on her feet and hugging Karin in a flat second.

All because of an apron.

Morgan knew leaving Washington was going to be hard as soon as she’d arrived. Nick was nice enough to let her delay their departure as long as she wanted, though. Their early morning departure time turned to midday, and by midday it was clear they wouldn’t be getting into Columbus until later that evening.

It didn’t matter to Nick when they were driving. He’d originally wanted to be home in time to watch the game against Buffalo on the television, but a snowstorm in Buffalo meant that the game had been postponed, so they no longer had to be back by a certain time.

Just prior to lunch, Karin asked to speak to Morgan privately. Nick was just as confused as Morgan when she looked to him for a clue as to what to expect; Nolan stood beside him wearing his best you’re in trouble face.

Karin shooed the boys away when they lingered. She gestured for Morgan to sit down at the bay window and went about making some hot chocolate while she asked Morgan about if she was going to be alright to drive back to Columbus and when she was returning to work. It didn’t take a genius to work out that it was the lead up to the actual conversation, so Morgan sat patiently until Karin put mugs down on the table and sat down with her.

“I just want to talk to you about your knee.”

Morgan sighed, ignored the instantaneous ache, and nodded because she didn’t know what else she could do.

“It’s fine,” Morgan tried to assure Karin. “It’s really fine.”

Karin hummed, not at all believing it. Morgan needed to get better at lying.

“Nick mentioned that you’ve been trying to run again, and it hasn’t been going so well.”

“Not as well as I want,” she conceded. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. Really.”

“Karl and I have been talking and we know that it must be incredibly hard to get the treatment you need to get better, and it must be equally as terrifying when it’s already not worked so well—we want to give you a loan to get you the medical care you need.”

“You—what?”

Across the table, with her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, Karin didn’t look as if she’d just offered Morgan wasn’t anything life changing or even important at all. Morgan wrapped her own hands around her mug and drank out of it, the burning of her tongue barely even registered.

“I know that Nick has already offered, but I don’t blame you for saying no to that kind of offer from a friend. We wanted to offer as parents.”

Morgan didn’t tell her that Nick had briefly mentioned the idea of marriage.

She did stumble over some disbelieving thank-yous and some clarifying questions before she started to cry. She had to think about it, of course, whether or not she wanted to be indebted to Karin and Karl—be indebted to the parents of a guy who had quickly become her best friend, and if it was worth the risk of something going wrong and multiple relationships going to shit.

Karin agreed to let her have time to think about it, that nothing needed to be decided any time soon, and that the offer would not be taken off the table.

When the next questions were about the drive back and whether or not the weather was good enough for them to get back safely, it gave Morgan some time to work through it before she was faced with Nick.

#nick blankenburg fic #nick blankenburg imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #cbj fic #need a little company fic

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 19 - surfer

pairing: surfer!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you enjoy your honeymoon with a little bit of added competition

word count: 1257

warnings: fluff

spence-tober masterlist

If there’s one thing people could agree on about you and your husband, it’s about your shared competitive nature. 

That’s why, even now on your honeymoon, you and your husband have this unspoken bet. Who will give in first? 

Who will pick up their board first and succumb to the beautiful waves of the Mamanuca Islands?

So far, you both had resisted the urge and have enjoyed spending time together in other ways. Scuba diving and snorkeling have fulfilled the water need and there are also many other activities that are available on the islands, not just surfing.

“The waves look nice today,” Spencer comments while standing in the small kitchen space of your rental, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

You roll your eyes as you sit in the chair to the vanity, messing with your hair to get ready for the day. These types of comments have come from the both of you ever since this unofficial, unspoken, bet aroused.

It had first started when you had landed in Fiji for your honeymoon. Everyone beforehand, like your family and friends, had told you that a honeymoon was time to spend together as newlyweeds after a hectic few months of wedding planning. You two took it as a competition on who would bail to go surfing first.

“They do look nice. Heard this morning there’s gonna be ten foot waves.” You reply back to Spencer, a smirk on your face. 

“Ten feet?” Spencer questions, his hand motions stopping. You can see the cogs working in his brain, just thinking about the waves out there.

“Yep,” You answer, “But the tide’s gonna go down soon, so don’t know how much longer the waves are gonna last.” You watch Spencer carefully now, hoping that these few comments could break his resilience and he’d finally crack.

He knew you weren’t lying either. The small old fashioned radio on the coffee table had in fact commented about the high waves today. Spencer, in all his tall glory, didn’t often get to surf out tall waves, or at least tall for him. 

You both traveled regularly for competitions, in fact, you had met at a competition five years ago. After stumbling into each other a few more times, you realized you were going to travel on the same circuit and decided to give dating a try. As two professional surfers, always traveling, it was hard to maintain a long-term relationship, but you and Spencer made it work. 

It was fun to surf and train together. It was great to be able to show off new tricks. To have someone to cheer you on at competitions and to have someone who’s waiting for you back on the beach. 

“Fine.” Spencer says, giving in with a smile on his face, “I’m going surfing today.”

You pump your fist in victory, “Yes! Alright, let’s go before the tide goes down.” You reply to him, quickly finishing at the vanity and running over to the tall wardrobe in your shared bedroom where you had hung up your wetsuits when you first arrived at your honeymoon rental.

Another plus of being professional surfers is times like these when you travel. You don’t have to worry about going back to work or PTO or anything. Both of you didn’t have competitions coming up any time soon and had postponed any sponsored content until a month after your wedding. That’s why you had rented the small bungalow for a few weeks rather than sticking to a hotel. 

Spencer laughs, but you can hear him following right behind you. His arms wrap around your middle as you grab the wetsuits, “I love you.” He says, burying his head into your shoulder.

You turn your head and kiss his temple, his face is hidden into your skin, “I love you too, Spencer.”

You could feel a smirk form on his lips, “Since you touched the wetsuits first, you lost.”

“Uh, uh!” You exclaim in disagreement, whipping your head around to look at your husband. “You gave in!” 

“But you touched the wetsuits…” Spencer playfully bantered back.

You shake your head at him and take your wetsuit out of the wardrobe, “Fine, then. Don’t even try to come to me when you need your wetsuit zipped up.” You walk off into the adjacent bathroom.

Spencer had always needed your help or someone else’s getting his wetsuit zipped all the way up. He was tall, which didn’t help, but his arms didn’t have the flexibility to reach for an attached string like you did with yours. You could easily zip your own wetsuit up with the help of an attached string that you could reach behind your back to get. 

As you get ready in the bathroom, you can hear Spencer outside the door.

“Now wait a minute!” He says before going quiet for a moment. He doesn’t say anything else until you come out of the bathroom with your wetsuit on, ready to surf. He also has put on his wetsuit, but you can tell by the puckering at the neck of the wetsuit that he was not able to zip it up by himself.

He’s waiting, sitting on the bed and looks up to you with a pondering look, “Alright, you won.”

You laugh and walk over to him to straddle his hips. Both pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and bringing your hands around to his back to zip up the back for him.

“For now.” Spencer adds on once you two pull apart from your kiss.

You laugh and take his hand in yours, pulling him to the door and out to the outside of your rental.

In all fairness, you wouldn’t have been too far behind in giving in and losing the bet. Of course you loved spending time with Spencer and enjoyed all the other activities you shared, inside and outside of the rental. But there was always something special about sharing a surf with your beloved boyfriend, now husband. 

In fact, this would be your first surf together since getting married. You both had another week in Fiji and the rest of your lives together so you didn’t doubt at all that this would be the last.

Hand in hand, you only let go for a moment to get your boards situated in your free arms before lacing your fingers together again. This is how you walked down to the beach not too far from your rental.

As you approached the beach together, the warm glow of the sun and the heat radiated over the two of you, leaving a glowy haze of sunshine on both of your skins. 

In these moments together, there is nothing that needs to be said. The rustling of the local flora and the crashing sounds of the waves against the rocks and sand fill the comfortable silence as the two of you walk towards the large waves forming on the horizon. 

Having lived a bit of a nomadic life before, traveling from competition to competition and from beach to beach, you had never imagined being so enamored with having a companion along for the ride let alone married. But you know you made the right choice when Spencer glances over to you, a wide smile on his lips and a fantastic glimmer in his eye.

You’re about to ask him what is on his mind when he speaks.

“Winner catches first wave?”

You laugh and throw your head back, planting your feet deep into the sand.

“You’re on!”

a/n: i'm not entirely happy with this one, but i like the ending. to be honest, i've been traveling back home for the past few days and 'lost' my groove in the one day i missed prepping one of these blurbs but im hoping to jump back onto the grind of things.

#criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid x reader #dr. spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid x you #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid au

[monsterrae1]

tease tidbit tuesday! 👨🏻‍🍼👨🏼‍🍼

Tagged by @heartbeatdiaz @prince-buck-diaz @jesuisici33 thanks !! 🖤

rule: share whatever scene or snippet from your fic that has you excited, ig???

This is the last thing I wrote in the girl dad au, so here you guys have it;

Once in Bobby's office, he handed Buck a bunch of papers for him to fill and smiled at him the entire time that Buck was working on them.

"How are you feeling?" Bobby asked when Buck handed over everything.

"Terrified," Buck replied, making Bobby chuckle, "I wanted to be a dad so bad, you know? And now that I have her, all I can think of is how I'm just gonna screw her over He shook his head,

"You're the closest thing I've got a good father figure, Bobby, but every single insecurity that my parents gave me, is still there, I'm just afraid I'm gonna make the same mistakes over and over" Bobby shook his head, "You won't kid, and you're not alone, you have all of us, okay? But I have no doubts that you're gonna do great, because you already do, to some degree, with Christopher" Buck blushed and look away "That's not the same, at the end of the day I get to hand Christopher back to his dad; with Kai, I'm fully responsible for her'

"It is scary, but I know you Buck, you're gonna give your all to that little girl. If anyone is going to be a great father, if going to be you"

Buck smiled, feeling lighter, Bobby having this much faith in him reassured him that he wasn't going to be a completely horrible father.

Bobby told him to not worry about the paperwork, that he had a couple of weeks for paternity leave, plus a lot of PTO that he could use to get settled, and since Chim was also scheduled to come back in a week or so, they would deal with temporary replacements until then, Buck was about to apologize for the inconvenience, but Bobby waved it away and told him to go back to his daughter.

Buck made his way back to the loft quickly, itching to be back with his daughter, but once he was at the top of the stairs he had to stop and take in the sight for a minute, telling himself that this was probably all he was gonna get and that he needed to savor it, at least for the next handful of minutes.

Eddie had taken a seat in one of the sofas, Kai still cradled safely in his arms, but she was awake now, Eddie was speaking nonsense to her in a soft voice and Buck couldn't quite make out what he was saying, one of her little hands was holding tightly into his finger, and Eddie was pretending to eat it, all while Kai just started at him with wide eyes - He knew that she couldn't quite see just yet, but she still seemed fascinated by Eddie.

Part of him wished he could stay there longer and pretend that Eddie was holding their daughter, and not just looking after Buck's daughter while he was busy; but he needed to save his own heart from the heartbreak, and before it could get any wild ideas - like asking for Eddie's hand in marriage - he walked to them and sat down by their side.

"She's beautiful, Buck" Eddie said, eyes still stuck on Kai, Buck couldn't help but smile at them.

“Yeah, she really is, isn’t she”

Eddie turned to look at him, and that soft smile that was directed at his daughter one second ago, didn’t flag as he now directed it at Buck, “You’re gonna be such a good dad”

Buck’s heart did a bunch of acrobatics in his chest, making him blush and feel like it was going to beat out of it any second, “I’m gonna try, that’s for sure”

“That’s all you can do” Eddie said, sighing, “I kinda don’t wanna give her back”

That make Buck chuckle and relaxed back into the sofa, “Yeah, wait until she stars crying, little girl has a good set of lungs”

Eddie laughed, but since Buck still had a few more minutes until he really had to leave, he figured that he could let Eddie had a little longer with Kai.

-

Tagging if they wanna do this @brokenribsdiaz @loveyourownsmiilee @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buddie @buddierights @alyxmastershipper @heartshapedvows @prettyboybuckley @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @elvensorceress @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @ebdaydreamer @exhuastedpigeon @panbuckley and whoever else wants to do this!

#tease tidbit Tuesday #buddie #buddie wip #wip don’t you ever grow up

[apprenticestanheight]

More - Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

Alllllllll right!! It is my birthday and that means that I am officially one year older yay!! I'm not really big on celebrating my own birthday and instead of doing some big like, event type thing I wanted to just write a couple thousand words a week or two in advance so that I didn't have to worry about editing on the day of, and that's what this is!

This is a college-adjacent AU (Adam is canonically a hs dropout but I've been thinking about maybe working my way to a creative writing PhD lately and projected so thats where the college part comes in) bc I headcanon that Adam grew his hair out in his early twenties and also: recovery era leigh whannell my dearly beloved.

Fic type- this is fluff that leads into smut!!

Warnings - this fic is meant for audiences of 18+. Minors, do not interact. Other than that, religion is referenced once (in the context of the reader saying adams name like it's a prayer lol), the word cunt is used a few times, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes but I wrote the fic with AFAB anatomy in mind as that is the anatomy I know best. Petplay is also kind of present here (the puppy nickname has wormed its way into several of my fics bc I try thinking of gn petnames and my mind goes completely blank oops)

As it turned out, it was easier than one expected to get someone who wasn't an attendee into your college library. You'd snuck Adam into it without a care in the world, yearning for someone to lean against when you hit a breaking point in your studying while your closest friends were two-thirds of the way into breaking points of their own.

Adam was happy to leave the crappy apartment he lived in, though. He worked forty-hour weeks but his boss had mentioned that there was unclaimed PTO so Adam took the four days he was offered from the 186 days that had been accrued and relished in the fact that he was being paid not to work for approximately a day and a half before he yearned for fresh air.

When you'd asked him to come with you to finish up the last of the work you needed to do to finish up your thesis on your 22nd birthday, Adam had jumped at the opportunity and agreed to meet you near the charity shop that was a fifteen minute walk from his apartment and a fifteen minute drive out from your campus.

Of course, in his delight he'd ended up showing twenty minutes before the time you'd agreed, so he ducked into the aforementioned charity shop and looked around to occupy the time he had before you'd meet up with him.

He found a camera for fifteen bucks, three rolls of film and a camera bag included in that deal and couldn't resist. Scott gave him $200 a few times a month for printing up a hundred copies of his bands posters to hand out, and his paycheck had run in time for the rent and groceries to eat it completely, so the two hundred was something like lifesaver.

He'd gotten $400 that January because Scott and his band were doing a lot of gigs, which came as a bit of a surprise--Adam had heard Scotts band play before. Scott was lucky most people didn't pay much attention to bar music.

That $400 was originally going to take purpose at least partially as gas money because there were some distances that it just wasn't worth walking, maybe the purchase of a pack of cigarettes from the corner store that always had deals on them--$3 for two packs was the typical deal going on, and something Adam had used to his advantage more than once in the year since he'd become legally eligible to smoke and drink--and not much else, but the camera seemed like a decent enough purchase. If he got good enough, maybe he could display the photos he took somewhere or sell them as prints to make up for the money he lost to rent and a few groceries during his first paycheck of the month, keep him from going hungry until the second paycheck of the month came in.

He dips out of the charity shop and grins when he spots you, lets you drive him and steals the rest of your energy drink when you talk about the fact that you're not sure why you thought you'd like the peach flavor, and that gets you where you are--sitting in the darkest corner of your college library, face pressed against Adams shoulder as he laughs meekly.

"You can do this," he says. "You have another, what? Three pages left and then it's done. Then you can go back to whatever else your creative writing PhD entails and worry about your dissertation next year, yeah?"

"That doesn't work," advises a close friend of yours, Aurelie. She's been studying for a masters in biology and has known you since 1993, when you were both eighteen and freshly new to the college campus. "I've tried it numerous times, Stanheight, and it doesn't."

"I should've gotten my bachelors and masters before I jumped into this," you mutter, words muffled by the sleeve of Adams baggy black sweater. "But of course the only PhD option within two hours of work was an accelerated course. Ugh."

Adam laughs pitifully, pulls your face away from his shoulder to kiss your forehead before he gets up and you give him your card to get you, himself, Aurelie and her girlfriend Samantha a coffee.

When he returns, Samantha is pulling a strand of bright green hair behind her ear and watching you struggle, eyes narrowing at the book you're trying to focus on reading to get something you need for your thesis. Aurelie is offering you a bite of the sandwich she'd brought, telling you that a bag of chips also has the potential to be yours if you can get the last of your necessary research done in time to meet your February 18th deadline.

Adam presses a kiss to the top of your head as he maneuvers back into sitting down, gesturing at the coffees to tell Aurelie and Sam which ones are theirs and which ones are yours and Adams.

Adam wraps an arm around your shoulders as you thank him, taking a sip of your coffee, the order for which Adam had memorized at some point in the four years of your relationship to that point. He kisses your temple in response, grabbing his own coffee from the tray and checking the time.

It's not until six grueling hours, sunrise and four mental breakdowns have surpassed that you're officially done with your thesis. Adam asks if you want to spend the night at his place--you're not going into classes tomorrow if the way that you talked about sleeping in is of any indication--and Aurelie gives you a high five and mentions one of the bags of Doritos she'd brought along to munch on as she studied but hadn't ended up touching.

"You officially owe them a thousand kisses, you know," Aurelie says as you tuck your notebooks into the satchel you've been using since Adam had gifted it to you when you'd walked across the stage and graduated high school three and a half years prior. "You've gotta do it. It's what they deserve."

Adam laughs, blue-green eyes meeting Aurelies hazel brown ones. "I know," he says. "Though, to be fair, I don't think they really expected three pages to turn into fifteen more tacked on."

"They did not," you state affirmatively. "Professor Mason better fuckin' love me for it, though. I hadn't expected to meet his maximum page count and I managed to, just barely. Give me the chips."

Adam and Sam both laugh at the come-hither motion you make with your finger as Aurelie gets a bag of Doritos from her bag and tosses them at you, laughing a bit herself.

"Gremlin person," she says, shuddering a little for dramatic effect. "I surrender an offering to thee."

"The gremlin thanks you for it means the gremlin can put ordering dinner off for like, an hour and a half," you laugh a little, breaking open the bag of Doritos as Adam steals your two-litre water bottle from the table and takes a sip, leaving it open if you should decide to take a sip within the following thirty seconds.

You do, taking a break in your Dorito munching to take a sip of the water while Adam steals a chip from the bag and all of your preparations to leave are temporarily put on hold.

"I'm serious about the thousand kisses thing," Aurelie says. "Four breakdowns, fifteen pages and six different books in six hours. You have to do something to celebrate that."

Adam laughs, runs a hand through hair that he has yet to cut because he can't usually afford it and when he can, there are always better ways for money to be spent.

"I know you are," he says. "For the record, I am, too. I have a plethora of plans to make Y/Ns productivity feel worth it tonight, trust me."

"Gonna let me in on one of them?"

"I set aside $200 over my last few paychecks," Adam says. "Your birthday presents await, one of which is dinner."

"Two hundred from your paychecks--even multiple--means you have less grocery money, idiot," you scold lightly, glaring at him. Adam laughs, shakes his head, uses humor to fend off the anger issues that have a tendency to come up and bite him in the ass.

"Scott gave me $400 this month to print band posters," Adam says. "Also designed them, helped hand at least two and a half dozen out to people, but--you don't need to worry, okay? I have stuff covered and I had four hundred I could spend. I didn't spend it on groceries because I didn't need to, so it's okay."

Adam knows you only get defensive because of how his pay is and how his rent and groceries are in direct correlation. He works forty hours a week, brings in six hundred and fifty dollars every two. Rent eats four hundred during that first monthly paycheck and the other two hundred and fifty gets eaten by groceries.

The second pay period of that month is swallowed by other expenses. He sets aside gas money for the rarer times wherein he has to use his car, some money for cigarettes and other pop-up expenses as well as groceries for those two weeks.

His landlord had raised the rent in January of 1997, though. All he had left of his first monthly paycheck was a measly 100 dollars, which he couldn't buy very much with as it were. Scott had given him four hundred dollars for his efforts in graphic design and his access to a printer though, so he was cool as an ice cube in the few days before the second monthly paycheck he got was deposited into his bank account and he could afford to get a couple more things to last him through until next month.

"You promise it has no harm even though your landlord raised your rent to a stupid amount?"

"Rent being raised to a stupid amount means renovations," Adam throws you a cheeky smile. "The heater works, my showerhead isn't busted like it used to be, and the fridge, microwave and oven aren't running on fumes. It has it's perks."

"If I have to force you, you will be dragged by your gorgeous hair to the college apartments one of these days," you say. "They let non-attendees rent out the units year round for three hundred a month. You could actually afford to live if you went that route."

"You'd also be able to afford a haircut," Samantha chirps. You glare at her and Adam has to laugh, pressing his forehead against your shoulder and kissing it as he does.

You part ways thirty minutes later, waving goodbye to Sam and Aurelie as Adam asks who's place you want to go to.

You end up choosing to go to yours--you live in one of the apartment buildings owned and managed by your college. Its one of the many perks attached to the full ride scholarship you earned. It wasn't an easy feat, but you earned it from doing a collaborative photo and written essay that your english teacher called 'completely and totally heartwrenching' on the emotional support stray cats have proven to offer the homeless and those otherwise down on their luck.

Your apartment is nicer than Adams by half a mile, at least. Twelve hundred square feet, two bedrooms for the off chance someone has to move in. White walls, dark brown hardwood flooring, marble countertops in the bathrooms and kitchens, up-to-date appliances wherever such appliances are necessary. It's a good place, ten minutes out from your college campus by car, and you have every intent to keep living there and paying the rent attached once you're done with your PhD.

You and Adam debate dinner but decide to eat it later, go to your room while you talk idly. Adam tells you about his job, you tell him more about the professors who you like, and life carries on.

Adam relaxes in your room while you shower, happy to test the camera he'd bought in the charity shop by taking a photo of a polaroid you'd snapped the previous weekend. Adam has a love-hate relationship with the polaroid because of how goofy it is--it's a photo of him with two cigarettes in his mouth, one behind each of his ears, and one in his hand. They were horrendous cigarettes so the photo wasn't a waste, and he knew you loved it so he let it be.

You come out after fifteen minutes, hair damp as you wear one of Adams shirts and not much else. He grins as you settle into bed, head tilting at you before the question befalls his lips.

"How would you feel if I were to do what Aurelie practically demanded of me?" He asks, unawares as to whether or not you'd heard her remarks. "If I kissed you a thousand times?"

You ghost your teeth over your bottom lip, laughing softly. "You really think you'd be able to keep track?" Adams hand finds your thigh as he nods, palm running across it until he reaches your hip.

"I do," he says. "And besides--I think we kiss at least two hundred times when I wear the gray sweatpants in autumn anyway."

Your tongue juts out to wet your lip. "Okay," you say, realizing very quickly that 1000 kisses is basically the gateway to bliss. "I'm in."

"Really?" Adam asks, grinning like a fool. "Even if I take it slow and you start despising me for it?"

You nod, laughing a little as Adams lips find yours.

The first kiss is deep and intense, one of Adams hands on your hips as the other moves to up your face.

Adams tongue moves expertly around your mouth, thumb rubbing against the skin of your hip gently as he angles your head so that he can kiss you deeper. You moan into his mouth and he laughs a little, only pulling away when neither of you can breathe.

"999 to go," Adam whispers against your lips, smiling when the sound of your laughter meets his ears.

He kisses along your jawline.

998, 997, 996, 995

And then down your neck, tongue joining his lips as his hands move from your hips to your stomach, slowly and steadily inching up your chest.

You're happy to let Adam do as he pleases--it's a good enough gift for hitting twenty-two and because of studying and school getting in the way, you'd not really had much of an opportunity to give him anything significant for his 22nd birthday in the weeks before anyway.

One of your hands finds his hair as his lips remain focused on your neck and you undo the low ponytail he's got it in, moaning out his name as he keeps on going with his kisses.

994, 993, 992, 991, 990, 989, 988, 987

His hands keep their steady incline upwards, stopping to tease your nipples as he presses kiss after absolutely intoxicating kiss back up your neck and your jawline, grinning against your jawline when a soft moan falls from your lips and he tucks his knee between your thighs, pressing it against your core.

986, 985, 984, 983, 982, 981, 980

He captures your lips in his own, one hand moving up to cradle the back of your head and allow the kiss to deepen. The other one stays carefully focused on your nipple, and you laugh into his mouth as you realize he's fighting the urge to smile.

He pulls away to kiss down the other side of your neck and you manage to regain some of your breath thanks to your best efforts.

"Any regrets yet?"

"None at all," Adam laughs against your neck. "Oh, you're gonna be such a mess when I'm done with you. This is amazing."

979, 978, 976, 975, 974, 973, 972, 971, 970

You pull the shirt you'd stolen from Adam off your torso, fighting every single urge you have to grind against his leg as his kisses now start traversing down your chest.

He's the kind of person who commits to an action and it's a very good thing, ordinarily. He wants you to be so kissed up you forget your own name, only really remember his if you remember anyones name at all, and he's committed to that. His kisses will keep slow, his lips glorious and the pressure he puts onto your clit and aching core just enough to make you want to start grinding against him.

He kisses your breasts carefully, takes so much time with your nipples that you're almost completely sure there's a wet spot in his sweatpants from how wet the action has made you, laughs slightly when you moan loudly and become embarrassed.

969, 968, 967, 965, 964, 963, 962, 961, 959, 958, 957, 956, 954, 953, 952, 951, 950

"I love it when you get loud for me, baby," he whispers as he moves his lips down your chest and to your navel. You know he's going to take an absurd amount of time to kiss your hips, but you don't mind that.

You've always been particularly insecure about your hips and Adam has spent the majority of your relationship kissing them and holding them and telling you he loves them when your insecurity shines through. You hate your hips and you hate the hip dips you've been saddled with but Adam? You tell Adam he can't kiss your hips and he spends the next hour kissing you and telling you that you and your hips are fuckin' perfect.

He kisses down your navel and, of course, finds your hips. He glances at you for a second, waiting for your consent to kiss them because he knows it's an area of insecurity for you. When you nod, Adam can't fight his smile as he kisses across your stomach to your right hip, which he spends more time on than is probably worth.

He presses kiss after kiss there, probably leaving a hickey in the wake of his lips from his tongues involvement, murmurs an "I love you so much, baby," against your skin as he kisses across your stomach from your right hip to your left.

He takes his time with your left hip just as well, chuckles at the fact that you're so turned on that you've mindlessly let your moans go from quiet to average in terms of sound level because you've mostly stopped caring.

949, 948, 947, 946, 945, 944, 943, 942, 941, 940, 939, 938, 937, 936, 935, 934, 933, 932, 931, 930, 929, 928, 927, 926, 925, 924, 923, 921, 920

He kisses down to your dripping cunt, laughs when his lips press themselves against your clit because he knows just how wet he's managed to make you within maybe thirty minutes.

He moves his kisses from your wetness to your inner thighs, happy to kiss them for as long as he wants because he loves your thighs as much as he loves your hips--he loves them wholeheartedly, tells you as much as often as possible.

"Love your thighs, puppy," he whispers, breath ghosting against you in a way that makes you shiver. "You're so fucking perfect, yeah?"

You hum a response, unsure of how you're still even slightly coherent.

919, 918, 917, 916, 915, 914, 913, 912, 911, 910, 909, 908, 907, 906, 905, 904, 903, 902, 901, 900

He kisses from your right inner thigh to your left, once again taking his time because of how much he loves them. His hands slip under your thighs to find your hips, and you laugh a little, flustered because the fact of how much he loves your hips and hip dips when they're one of your biggest points of insecurity will never cease to turn you into a blushing idiot.

He laughs against your thigh, eyes keenly watching you. He's always been a bit voyeuristic so the fact that he's watching you is of little surprise, but you don't hate the way that he watches because he looks at you like you're the love of his life.

Granted, he always looks at you like that, but still. It's a nice emotion to register within the levelness of his gaze, the focus swimming in his blue-green eyes muddled by the love and adoration that rears itself upwards whenever he so much as glances in your direction.

899, 898, 897, 896, 895, 894, 893, 892, 891, 890, 889, 888, 887, 886, 885, 884, 883, 882, 881, 880

"So perfect," he whispers, kissing from your thigh back to the area just above your clit. He kisses from there back up your stomach, stopping once more to pay an absurd amount of attention to your hips and hip dips before he's kissing over your chest and you're another minute, maybe two, away from being so blissed out that you lose any and all senses of coherency onto which you've previously held.

"Adam," you whisper, saying his name like it's an unanswered prayer in an empty catholic church. "Adam, please."

His knee finds a spot between your legs again, and you moan as he presses it against your clit while his kisses move from your chest back to your neck.

879, 878, 877, 876, 875, 874, 873, 872, 871, 870, 869, 868, 867, 865, 864, 863, 862, 861, 860, 859, 858, 857, 856, 855, 854, 853, 852, 851, 850, 849, 848, 847, 846, 845, 843, 842, 841, 840

One of his hands finds your hip, the other one coming up to your lips. He presses his thumb against your bottom lip you take it into your mouth without a second thought, holding Adams gaze.

"Good puppy," he whispers, moaning lowly and pressing his forehead against the left side of your neck. "Oh, you're so good for me."

You moan, rutting your hips against his leg before you can stop yourself. The movement makes Adam grin, lift himself up so that he's staring down at you.

"You're desperate, aren't you?" He asks, a teasing grin on his face. "Keep doing that, mm? Grind against my leg, puppy. I know you want a release."

You moan, setting a pace with your hips as Adam slips his finger from your mouth and moves it to your chest, lips returning to your neck.

839, 383, 837, 836, 835, 834, 833 832, 831, 830, 829, 828, 287, 826, 825

Adams lips remain on your neck, occasionally drifting to your collarbone, upper chest and shoulders. He's relentless with his praise because he knows it's bound to make you melt, and make you melt it absolutely does.

"You're ethereal," he whispers, nipping gently at the skin of your collarbone. "I'm so proud of you, puppy. Workin' so hard to finish with your PhD program, you're fuckin' amazing."

You moan in response, needing more friction. Adam presses his knee against your clit further, adding just a bit more pressure--enough pressure to almost make you lose it.

You moan lewdly, hands slipping underneath his shirt to grip the skin of his back. The action makes Adam laugh, his kisses becoming more slow and deliberate as he starts kissing along your neck and eventually tilts your head up to reach the underside of your jaw.

"You're so perfect," he whispers.

824, 823, 822, 821, 819, 818, 817, 816, 815 814, 813, 812, 810

His kisses traverse back down your neck for what feels like the millionth time, and he kisses your shoulders and collarbone in a way that he knows makes you want him inside you more than will ever be reasonable.

When his kisses move down your chest and he adjusts so that he's not stuck in an uncomfortable position, you whimper at the loss of contact as his leg moves.

He's quick with it, though--one of his hands moves to your clit, rubbing slow circles as he tells you to grind against it in place of his knee.

809, 808, 807, 806, 805, 804, 803, 802, 801, 800

Before you can really register it, his lips are pressing kiss after senseless kiss against your inner thighs and you're moaning, begging words falling from your lips because all you want is to feel his tongue pressing flat against you while he slowly thrusts a finger into your folds.

He presses a few kisses against your clit, watching you through his eyelashes.

You look like a picture of bliss--one of your hands clutches the sheets, the other one has pulled itself through your hair so many times that a mess has been made of it, and you're biting your lower lip with anticipation.

His hands slide themselves under your thighs and over your hips, finding their favorite spot as his tongue presses flat against your clit. You press your head into the pillow it rests upon, moaning lewdly at the contact.

799, 798, 797, 796, 795, 794, 793, 792, 791, 790, 789, 788, 787, 786, 785, 784, 783, 782, 781, 780, 779, 778, 777, 776, 775, 774, 773, 772, 771, 770, 769, 768, 767, 765, 764, 763, 762, 761, 759, 758, 757, 756, 754, 753, 752, 751, 750

Adams tongue is skilled--eating you out is one of the things that gets you both off the quickest, and because of Aurelies words, you have zero doubt you're in for at least another few orgasms before Adam is done, but the way that his tongue feels against you is so good that you remain entirely unbothered by the idea, focusing on the way that his tongue feels when he presses it flat against your clit and the way that his hands feel as one locates your nipples and the other remains on your hip with the aim of keeping you steady.

When you start helplessly grinding against his face, Adam doesn't stop you. He moans, burying his face in your cunt and letting you ride his face paceless and senseless, clearly just wanting you to cum all over his nose, mouth, and chin.

When you come for the first time that night, you do so with a moan of Adams name before you release over his face. He keeps his tongue on your clit and works you through the aftershocks before he pulls away, lifting himself up to your level again and kissing you soft and slow, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

He cleans his face after your kiss, gets back into bed and presses kiss after kiss against your face, neck, and shoulders, delivering praise to you like it's nothing, and you can tell he means every word.

"You're amazing," he whispers. "You did so good for me, puppy."

Forty minutes of kisses go by, and you're happy to let Adam keep kissing you for the rest of time if he wants to.

749. 748, 747, 746, 745, 744, 743, 742, 741, 740, 739, 738, 737, 736, 735, 734, 732, 731, 730, 729, 728, 727, 726, 725, 724, 723, 722, 721, 720, 719, 718, 717, 716, 715, 714, 713, 712, 711, 710, 709, 708, 707, 706, 705, 704, 793, 792, 701, 700

"How many kisses down?" You ask, practically swimming in post-orgasm bliss.

"300," Adam grins cheekily at you. "It's been an hour and a half. That basically sets us up for another four hours."

"What time is it?" You ask. Adam checks the clock.

"About to be six thirty," he says. "We'll be done by around ten if you're still wanting me to actually kiss you a thousand times."

"Do you still want to?"

"I wouldn't tire of kissing you even if I gave it my all, so I'd like to, yeah."

You grin at him, nod. "Please kiss me again."

Adam does as you ask of him, smiling a little bit into the kiss as your hands slip underneath his shirt with the aim of eventually slipping the shirt over his head.

He pulls away to take his shirt and pants off, momentarily feeling guilt for being completely clothed while you were completely exposed.

The guilt fades when you're pulling him back into you by the neck and laughter bubbles up from his throat as he calls you a kiss fiend and moves to press kisses along your jawline.

You let him kiss you senseless, counting down the kisses while you have half the mind to do so, before he's taken you and turned you into a thoughtless, brainless version of yourself that's so clouded by bliss that any other emotion pushing past the weightlessness of how you'll feel is completely and totally inconceivable.

Adam has kissed you one hundred and fifty five more times across forty-five minutes by the time that you lose focus, as he's telling you to turn around so that he can kiss your back and you're doing as he asks because of how good the kisses feel and the fact that you never want them to stop.

He kisses along your shoulder blades, down the backs of your arms and the back of your neck, praising you and making sure you're not completely and totally blissed out by asking you to use your words and tell him how good it feels.

He kisses the backs of your hips, smiles against your skin and then turns you back around, kisses your lips sweetly as his hand trails down your chest, past your stomach, to your clit. He laughs, presses a kiss against your forehead when he presses his finger against your clit and you moan because it's throbbing and the touch feels amazing.

"Adam," you whisper. "Please."

Adam nods, rubs slow circles around your clit as his lips press themselves against your neck.

545, 544, 543, 542, 541, 540, 539, 538, 537, 3537, 535, 534, 533, 532, 531, 530, 529, 528, 527, 526, 525

The pace he sets with his finger is slow, his lips pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you slip further and further into the bliss of it all. You're pretty much content to let Adam do whatever he wants to you at this point, all of the stress from completing your thesis and trying to figure out plans with Aurelie and Sam to celebrate your birthday melting away with every single one of Adams kisses and the pressure of his fingers.

524, 523, 522, 521, 520, 519, 518, 517, 516, 515, 514, 513, 512, 511, 510, 509, 508, 507, 506, 505, 504, 503, 502, 501, 500

Adam replaces his fingers with his thumb, pulls you into an open-mouthed kiss as he slowly thrusts his fingers into you.

You moan into his mouth, grinding against his fingers slowly.

"So good for me, puppy," Adam whispers against your lips. "God, you're so perfect."

You moan again in response, and Adams lips dip to your collarbone, paying attention to it like he hasn't since the kisses began. He fucks you with his fingers as his lips press kiss after fervent kiss against your shoulders, collarbone, and chest, dick throbbing because he hasn't let himself come yet.

When you're coming for the second time, Adam is kissing you and you're practically floating, willing to do any and everything he asks of you. His kisses are perfect and he knows how to make you teeter on the edge of release until he's ready to let you go, and he does such, kissing you senseless until he curls his fingers inside you with each of his thrusts and you're coming undone around his fingers within five minutes after those ministrations had begun.

You moan his name into his mouth, and he pulls away from the kiss as you clench around his fingers.

Clean up is simple enough--after he's kissed you through the aftershocks and pulled his fingers out of you, he simply licks his fingers clean while you watch him, dazed but mesmerized.

499, 498, 487, 496, 495, 494, 493, 492, 491, 490, 489, 488, 487, 486, 485, 484 483, 482, 481, 480, 479, 478, 476, 475 473, 472, 471, 470, 469, 468, 467, 466, 465, 464, 463, 462, 461, 460

"Adam," you whisper. "There are condoms in my nightstand. Need to feel more than your fingers."

"Y/N--" two times across three hours feels like a stretch, and he knows you have zero intention to go to class for the rest of the week because you've finished up with your thesis and thus, there's no point until you have to pass it in on it's due date, but still. Adam doesn't want to leave you so sore that you can't walk when you're a college student with more things to worry about than he.

"Please," you whisper. "I'll be fine, I promise. I had hoped the 1000 kisses thing would mean I got fucked senseless anyway. I already told my professors not to expect me for another week because of how much work I've done, and how badly I need a break. I need to feel you and you're throbbing because you've only fucked me with your tongue and your fingers, so it's a win-win situation."

Adam presses another two kisses to your forehead before he rolls over in the bed to grab a condom. He takes off his boxers as you tear the condom open, rolling it onto his length and relishing in the way that he moans at the contact of your hand with his cock.

"Fuck, Y/N," he moans quietly.

You let him position himself at your entrance, moan at every inch he pushes into you because of how good it feels. Adams cock is long and thick and nothing you'll ever get tired of.

Once his full length is inside you, he moans, pressing his forehead into the pillow to the right of your head as one of your hands finds his hair and the other rests on his neck. Your thighs move to wrap around his waist, and he kisses the side of your jawline as he waits for you to adjust.

459, 458, 457

When you give Adam the okay to start moving, he does so, his lips pressing kisses just about wherever they can reach.

It doesn't take Adam very long to make you see stars, the kisses that he delivers adding to the mindlessness of the way you feel. Every single minute that passes and you get closer and closer to forgetting what your own name is, Adams name the only clear thought that runs through your mind, repeating itself over and over like a mantra that only barely manages to keep you from floating away.

456, 455, 454, 453, 452, 451, 450, 449, 448, 447, 446, 445, 444, 443, 442, 441, 440, 439, 438, 437, 436, 435, 434, 432, 431, 430, 429, 428, 427, 426, 425, 424, 423, 421, 420, 419, 418, 417, 416, 415, 414, 413, 412, 411, 410, 409, 408, 407, 406, 405, 404, 403, 402, 401, 400

Adam keeps going after you've released and you're happy to let him, the feeling of him inside you too good to do anything but relish in. He moans your name in between his kisses, chasing the high of his own orgasm while also wanting to bring you to the edge of a fourth.

"Fuck," he moans. You're practically brainless beneath him, a cock-drunk mess of moans as your nails dig into his back and the hand that's kept a hold on his hair holding it so that it doesn't fall to the side because you'd taken the elastic out of it without thinking.

"Adam," you moan, his name the only coherent thought you have.

"You feel amazing," he responds, kissing your forehead. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me, mm?"

You moan in response and his kisses return to your neck, kissing along the underside of it and up to the underside of your jaw before his lips move back to your shoulders again.

399, 398, 397, 396, 395, 394, 393,392, 391, 390, 389, 388, 387, 386, 385, 384, 383, 382, 381, 380, 379, 378, 377, 376, 375, 374, 373, 372, 321, 370, 369, 368, 367, 366, 365, 364, 363, 362, 361, 360, 359, 358, 357, 356, 355, 354, 353, 352, 351, 350

He's apologizing lightly for a hickey that forms on your neck as he continues thrusting, and you're so blissed out from being fucked into the mattress that you tell yourself you'll give him a response later.

He slows the pace of his thrusts enough to drive you up the wall just a little, keeps that pace while he kisses you senseless for a long fifteen minutes before he kicks the pace back up again, dialing it from a six to an eleven within seconds.

349, 348, 347, 346, 345, 344, 342, 341, 340, 339, 338, 337, 336, 335, 334, 333, 332, 331, 330, 329, 328, 37, 326, 325, 324, 323, 322, 321, 320, 319, 318, 317, 316, 315, 314, 313, 312, 311, 310, 309, 308, 307, 306, 305, 304, 303, 302, 301, 300

Adams pace is quick, evenly timed, and perfect. You can hardly control how loud your moans start getting and Adam loves it, laughs when you press your forehead into the side of his neck in a break where he'd stopped kissing you because of your embarrassment.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed, puppy," he whispers, kissing your forehead. You hum your disagreement and he kisses you as deeply as either of you can manage, hand cradling your neck to allow the kiss to be so deep.

He pulls away and presses his lips across your chest again, keeping count where you've lost the ability to because of how fucked out you're starting to feel.

One hundred more kisses pass you by, and by that point Adams kicked the pace up just enough.

You come with a whisper of his name, saying it like it's the most meaningful word you'll ever speak. Adams teeth bite gently against your neck and he moans your name as your fourth release triggers his first, and he releases into the condom.

After thrusting into you through the post-orgasm aftershocks, Adam pulls out. He disposes of the condom while you go pee to avoid a UTI, and when you're back in bed, Adams lips are kissing you again and you're so blissed out that all you can do is stare at him lovingly.

The last two hundred kisses go by within fifteen minutes, Adams lips soft against your skin as he delivers whispered praise and sweet nothings in between each of the kisses he drops over your face, your arms, your hips, stomach, and thighs.

When he leaves, you're smiling like a buffoon and so happy your heart could melt with the joy you feel. He gets a bath going and then helps you to the bathroom, helps you into the bathtub while he reaffirms that he's proud of you for all the work you'd done with your thesis and acknowledges how hard it's been for you.

You let Adam wash your hair, exhausted and still not very coherent as he does so. It's very easy to melt into him and the way that his hands feel, and you let yourself do so without a second thought.

You agree to order pizza as a late-night dinner--it's nearly ten o'clock by the time you're both discussing it--and Adam helps you out of the bathtub, gets you to sit on the toilet while he blowdries your hair and leads you back to the bedroom.

He laughs when you point out the drawer of clothes you have that belong to him, kissing your forehead and making a remark about a pair of sweatpants he's not seen in close to two years. He gets dressed in the clothes from that drawer, helps you do the same because every single one of your limbs feels like Jell-o--completely and utterly unstable.

He grabs your phone from where you keep it, on the television stand in your living room, orders your birthday pizza while the two of you lay in your bed.

"Happy birthday," he says after the phone call is done and the pizza order is placed.

"Thank you," you hum, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He grins a little, runs a hand through your hair and hums contentedly.

"I love you," he whispers after silence has settled.

"I love you more," you respond, half-asleep but so content your chest aches with it.

Adam presses a kiss to your forehead, holds you close and for a minute, feels as though letting you go is an impossible feat, hopes that nothing ever comes around to separate the two of you from one another.

His gaze shifts from you to the window, hand running through your hair as he watches the sky and listens to the sounds of the outdoors at two hours before midnight.

He's so content it makes him ache, and he knows you feel the same.

All in all, you have to think, as you drift off, that it's your best birthday yet.

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw 2004

[massivedrickhead]

Can you do 19 please? 🥹

I sure can!

19. “Stop fighting it.  You need sleep.”

Prompt taken from here

Read on AO3

-

Chloe hadn’t felt right about leaving Beca home alone so soon after getting back from the hospital, but Beca insisted she’d be fine and that Chloe should go to work.

Chloe didn’t want to, but she also knew she couldn’t really ask for any more time off. They’d been understanding to an extent, but it had been weeks now, and Chloe had long run out of PTO and favours she could ask.

What should have been a simple appendectomy had resulted in complications and even a follow-up surgery.

And Beca was on the mend now, finally allowed to recover at home, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still in a lot of pain.

“I’ll be fine,” Beca said, wincing as she lowered herself to the couch, one hand pressed against her side. “All I’ll be doing is sitting on the couch and watching TV. I won’t even open my laptop if that’ll make you feel better.”

“What if you need something? What if you can’t get to the bathroom, or you trip, or-”

“Chloe, I’m okay,” Beca said. “I don’t want to be the reason you get fired. If something happens, I’ll call you.”

Chloe huffed, but Beca didn’t cave.

“Fine,” Chloe said. “But you need to make sure you eat something. You can’t have your pain meds on an empty stomach. There are leftovers in the fridge, you just need to heat them up.”

“Go before you’re late,” Beca said, trying to hide the discomfort from her face as she adjusted her position on the couch.

After a quick kiss goodbye, Chloe left for work.

She’d messaged Beca periodically throughout the day and received a response each time, but it didn’t ease the knot of worry from her stomach. 

When she finally got home that night, she practically sprinted through the door and to the living room.

The sun had set, but it seemed that Beca hadn’t gotten up to switch on the light.

The knot of worry in Chloe’s stomach turned into panic very quickly.

“Bec?”

Chloe switched on the light. Beca was in the exact same place she’d left her.

In fact, it looked like she hadn’t moved at all.

“Beca?” 

Chloe moved quickly until she was kneeling down beside the couch.

Beca was pale, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, her fists gripping the sofa so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

“Baby, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Beca said, her jaw clenched. “It just hurts. Can you… I need the bathroom, can you help me up?”

Chloe did, and she half-carried Beca to the bathroom.

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” Chloe asked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, waiting for Beca to finish.

“No,” was Beca’s response.

“You shouldn’t be in this much pain,” Chloe said. “Maybe your meds aren’t working, or maybe-”

“I didn’t take them,” Beca said, cutting her off. 

Chloe pulled open the door at the sound of the toilet flushing.

“What do you mean you didn’t take them?”

Beca washed her hands and moved past Chloe to return to the couch.

“Beca, we need to talk about this,” Chloe said. “You’re in pain - so much pain that you couldn’t get off the couch - you need to take your meds. If for nothing else then at least so you can sleep. The doctor said you need rest.”

“I don’t like how they make me feel,” Beca said, wincing again as she sat on the couch. 

“Is it worse than the pain you’re in right now?” Chloe asked.

Beca sighed and shook her head. “I thought I could start at least reducing the dose, but by the time I really needed them, I couldn’t get off the couch to get them.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because you’ve missed enough work because of me,” Beca said. “And I thought, well, if I can’t get them then I can’t take them. I thought the pain would pass eventually.”

“Beca, you got out of surgery a week ago,” Chloe said. “We’ve been home from the hospital for two days, now is not the time to go cold turkey on your pain meds. You need to give your body a chance to heal first, and you need to get some rest. The doctor wouldn’t have prescribed them if he didn’t think you’d need them.”

“I get all… dizzy and confused,” Beca said. “They make my head hurt and I feel like I can’t think straight.”

“It isn’t forever, Bec,” Chloe said. “It’s just until you’re better. You can’t possibly get any sleep when you’re in this much pain, and you need to sleep in order to heal.”

Beca sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But only for a few more days, and then I want to start reducing them.”

Chloe felt her shoulders relax, and she kissed the side of her head. “I’ll call your doctor and talk to him about it,” Chloe said. “Did you eat today?”

Beca bit her lip and gave a guilty shake of the head.

“Bec, you’re not making it any easier for me to leave you on your own, you know that right?”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said. “I just really wasn’t hungry. I promise I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“I’m gonna make you something,” Chloe said. “And you’re going to eat it, and take your meds, and go to sleep like a good patient, okay?”

Beca couldn’t help but smirk. “Yes doctor,” she said.

“Hmm, you can look at me like that all you want,” Chloe said, “but tomorrow you’re getting a babysitter.”

Once they had eaten and Beca had taken her meds, Chloe helped her back to their room and got her settled in bed.

“Will you stay?” Beca asked. 

“Of course,” Chloe said, kissing the top of her head.

She turned on the TV because she knew background noise helped Beca settle, and climbed onto the bed beside her.

She ran her hands through Beca’s hair, and watched as her blinks got slower. It seemed to take more and more effort for her to pull her eyes open, and at one point she let out a soft groan, her eyebrows furrowing as the dizziness started to kick in.

“I know you don’t like it,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry that you’re having to go through all this.”

Beca groaned again and reached for Chloe’s free hand, gripping it tightly to try and ground herself against the sudden vertigo she was feeling.

“Stop fighting it,” Chloe said, her thumb rubbing across Beca’s knuckles, as her other hand continued to play with her hair. “You need to sleep, baby. Close your eyes.”

“I hate this,” Beca mumbled, finally letting her eyes shut, her brows pulling together as she did.

“I know,” Chloe said.

Eventually, the tension left Beca’s body, and her face relaxed, but Chloe didn’t move from her spot, and she wouldn’t for the rest of the night.

Beca had asked her to stay, so that’s what she’d do.

#bechloe #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfic #pitch perfect fanfic #fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #beca #chloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe hurt/comfort #bechloe fluff #bechloe prompt #bechloe one shot #one shot #prompt #hurt/comfort #fluff #no matter the timeline #pitch perfect fic

[autevi]

watching @drdemonprince's conversation with Fern Brady and god this is why it's important to hear people like us talk about our experiences. i learn so much from other autistic people.

while talking about alexithymia fern described having ongoing and mysterious pain during a really stressful period of time that never went away no matter what she tried, and as soon as she received resolution on the thing she was stressed about, the pain also resolved. ive this exact experience a number of times and i have slowly been building a very contextually-specific hypothesis about it (my body builds up pain like a pressure valve and as long as i deny it it gets worse, and as soon as i give myself permission to take the rest i need - and take that rest - it tends to resolve. at least the acute moments. for the longest time, i would not let myself call in sick from work unless i was "sick enough", because i was terrified of being seen as unreliable, and because i was worried about losing the income for any missed days of work. i've always used up my PTO on sick days and doctor days because i needed so many of those.

ever since ive been working from home, and then promoted to a a role where i have a lot more ability to work around things like this without losing pay, i've suffered a lot fewer of those maxed out pressure valve moments.

my ibs in general and flareups have all also gotten a lot less acute.

fern's story just gave me a lightning bolt of realization, and put into perspective all this mysterious sporadic and chronic pain i experience that doctors can never really explain or understand no matter how much i describe it or how many tests i undergo. i just saw my doctor yesterday about it and she shrugged and suggested we continue to monitor it and as usual we ruled out all the things it probably isnt.

even ibs is one of those diagnoses of excluding what it isnt.

anyway. it's fucking incredible to hear someone talk about experiencing something and for the first time in three decades being able to point at that and go "yes!! me too!! that's the thing i experience too!!!"

#i have a lot of other thoughts about other topics discussed #especially about the training to be compliant and punishing those who are not #and about socializing feeling so risky and avoiding the landmines #im thinking HARD about how avoidance has characterized and dominated me #ive lost touch with my sense of desire and satiety #also being told we're perceived as aloof or scary or intimidating when we're internally super fucking terrified or overthinking #im having so many bigbrain thoughts and of course it's on a friday evening when im absolutely drained from my week #autevi

[athenaholmesartistsguild]

If you need another reason to vote:

Last week (September 13th, 2022), Senator Lindsay Graham introduced a bill that would ban abortions after 15 weeks of pregnancy.

While Republican members of congress are hesitant to endorse said bill, the vibe is mostly that they're worried it'll affect midterms.

This is not good! While Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell has claimed he believes abortion laws should be left to the states, he'll likely be the one deciding if this abortion ban goes to vote in Congress. We have no idea if he'll refuse to bring this bill to the voting floor.

Other Republicans have stayed quiet about whether or not they'd support a federal abortion ban. Republicans that initially had a staunch anti-abortion stance are now back-tracking saying they're against all abortion except those that threaten the life of the pregnant person, cases of rape, or cases of incest.

Pretty much every Republican is repeating this line, suggesting that this is a decision to win over voters, not their actual beliefs.

What's most likely going to happen is Republicans are going to denounce Graham's bill until abortion is no longer as widely talked about as it is now.

And if they have majorities in both the House and Senate, they can pass this bill before any of us can even do anything.

So what can we do?

Right now, we need to vote, vote, vote.

Here's a list of all the voter registration deadlines by state. Many states require you to register to vote 3-4 weeks before election day. That means you'll need to register to vote by the beginning of October.

If you will be 18 by election day, you can register to vote!!!!

This is the case in pretty much every state, but check the above link to see your state's laws.

Vote.org is a great resource to register to vote, view your registration status, send in a mail ballot, find drop-box locations or your polling place, and even get a breakdown of voting laws in your country.

They also have a countdown timer to election day and will send you election day reminders by text if you opt in.

But Dems don't Do anything! Why should I vote for them?

Look, I see you and I completely understand your anger and pain. When democrats suddenly started introducing abortion protections after Roe was overturned, I was pissed. I even stopped donating to the DNC (and I still haven't donated since). I didn't want to hear about their anger and sadness at this shocking turn of events.

But doing nothing is just going to ensure Conservatives win elections again and again. The more democrats there are in office, the more progressive legislation can be introduced.

So organize your protests and take to the streets. Protesting is just as valuable a source of change as voting.

But don't just stop voting altogether.

What if I can't get to the polls?

If your state allows absentee voting, you can request a mail ballot here.

If you don't have a car and need to vote in person, RideShare2Vote offers free round trip rides to polling locations on election day. You can even volunteer to be a driver on election day if you have your own car.

If you have to work on election day, check here to see if your state has time off to vote laws. Some states require advance notice of an intention to vote and may even provide PTO for a few hours while you're voting. Again. This varies by state, so use the handy drop-down menu to see the laws in your state. Some states will fine or even revoke a company's corporate charter if they deny an employee the right to vote, so use your rights, dammit!

Also consider speaking with your manager or employer to see if you can arrange your work schedule so you have time to vote. You just need to be in line before the polls close, whether that's a minute or an hour before. You have the right to vote even if the polls close while you're in line. Anyone who tries to deny you the right to vote despite this is committing a serious crime.

The best advice I can give is to make a plan now! If you have your transportation and time off from work planned, you'll be able to vote with a little less stress.

What if I'm disabled and have trouble voting?

According to NPR, "83% of polling places posed at least one impediment for voters with disabilities". A little less than 40% of polling locations aren't equipped to let disabled people cast their votes privately (y'know. One of the core rights citizens have?).

If you're unsure whether or not your polling place is accessible, or if you've had trouble voting in the past, find your polling place and local election office, and contact your election office. They may be able to let you vote curbside, or mail in a ballot. This can vary by location so finding this out in advance can be helpful.

Remember, it's your right to vote. If you're having trouble with accessibility at a polling place, contact your election office so you can receive accommodations.

You should also know that you have the right to use any equipment to help you vote, even if it hasn't been offered to you. So make those requests if you're voting at a machine or in-person. And make sure you take your time. If you feel rushed, remind the poll workers that voting is a right everyone is reserved, regardless of how convenient it is for others.

If you need assistance while voting, you're allowed to bring one person with you. They can be anyone except a union rep or your boss. Poll workers are also required to assist you if you're struggling to vote.

Poll workers may question your ability or right to vote if you have a mental disability. This is absolutely disgusting and if this happens, stand firm. If your name is on the roster, you can vote, regardless of the poll worker's opinions on the matter.

But unfortunately, you might need to receive legal advice on your rights while voting. Check the National Disability Rights Network to find an agency near you that can assist you.

If you're already at the polls and you're experiencing trouble, call 866-OUR-VOTE for on-demand legal help from a lawyer. If you need assistance and you're deaf or hard of hearing, there's a video call option if you call 301-818-VOTE

But what if I can't wait in a long line due to my disability?

Fun fact! If you have a disability that makes it difficult or impossible to stand in long lines, you have the right to be moved to the front of the line. And don't be embarrassed if you have to ask for this accommodation. Your personal health is important and you don't have to sacrifice it just to vote.

If the polling location is just not accessible, call your local election office or speak with the poll supervisor. It doesn't matter if it takes 5 minutes or 8 hours for you to vote, you have the right to cast your ballot, even if the polls close, so don't. Leave!

Below is a list of sources I used in this post along with voting resources linked above. I figure it would be easier to put them in one place rather than only scattered through the post:

Lindsay Graham introduces abortion ban

Republican reactions to Graham's bill

Voter Registration Deadlines

When Can You Register to Vote?

Request a mail ballot

Time Off to Vote laws

What if the polls close while I'm in line?

Voting with a disability

Polling place locator

Find your local election office

Disability Rights Network

Election protection hotline: 866-OUR-VOTE

Video-call hotline: 301-818-VOTE

#voting #voting registration #voting with a disability #voting without transportation #abortion rights #voting guide #voter registration

[devils-dares]

Temporarily Able-Bodied

summary: four moments with matt and your disability

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

warning: mentions of disability/blood

word count: 2400+

a/n: this took so much out of me to write, from having to go through my own personal battles with my disability, to multiple episodes of severe writer's block. i know this is a pretty touchy subject so i hope i did it justice. as always, feedback and reblogs are always welcome. special thanks to @phoebe-danvers and @pastelpixies for beta-ing.

small wonders masterlist here

-----

Matt takes care of tired reader

A yawn escapes your lips for the fifth time in two minutes as you check the clock on your desk. It was just about noon, but you swore it had to be later, you couldn’t even keep your eyes open. You lost almost an entire night’s worth of sleep from never ending waves of vertigo and a pounding headache. Trying your best to get up and grab another coffee, you don’t realize Matt is walking towards your office until you almost bump into him, his hands grabbing your shoulders just before the moment of impact.

“Woah, hey! I was just about to head to your office, guess you’re too excited about lunch, hm?” He jokes, but you scrunch your brows in confusion.

“Lunch? That’s today? Shit, Matt, I totally forgot. I was about to head to the coffee bar to grab something.”

“Are you too busy for lunch? We can reschedule for another day.”

“No, no. Just give me a second to let them know I’ll be stepping out.” He nods and you turn to head back towards your office, letting your team know you’d be out.

“Alright, let’s head out.” You say to Matt, who gleefully takes your arm.

—--

“...and so he wrangles all the chickens up to our office and leaves them there as payment, but one of the crates broke soon after he left, so there’s one chicken just running and clucking around the office and we haven’t been able to catch it yet.” You chuckle at Matt’s story and try to stifle yet another yawn. You can feel your body beginning to give out, the worry of how you’re going to make it through the rest of the work day creeping up.

“Did I wake you last night coming home?” Matt asks, “I know I was a bit loud, I had to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.”

“No you didn’t. I’m just tired.” You can tell he’s tuning into you now, the tilt of his head getting ever so slightly pronounced.

“You didn’t get any sleep last night.” He tilts his head the other way now.

“Matt, I’m fine.”

“Mhm, sure. You’re calling in for the rest of the day.” There’s no room for argument when he talks like that.

“Matthew, I don’t have any more PTO. You keep making me use it for rest days. I have to go back to work.” He shakes his head in disagreement.

“We will survive if you don’t get paid for one afternoon, sweetheart. I’ll walk you back to work to grab your things and then we’ll walk home. You need your rest and I’ll be with you to make sure you get it.”

—--

Apologizing for inaccessibility

Today was just one of those days where your brain didn’t want to function with the rest of your body, and that resulted in dusting off the wheelchair you had specifically for days like this.

Standing up from bed, you struggled to dress yourself nice enough to spend an evening at a fancy restaurant with Matt, who was currently on his way home from work. You’d picked out loose clothing, thinking that it would be easier than squeezing yourself into improper clothes when your joints didn’t even work right. Getting your shirt on was the easy part, but you quickly realized that you’d need to wait for Matt to help you with your pants and shoes, your back too tight to allow you to bend down. Sitting back down on the bed, you decide to wait for him, seemingly the best option for your energy and your joints.

Soon enough, you hear the door open to reveal your savior.

“Matt, I’m in here!” You can hear his footsteps grow closer and closer until he reaches you.

“Bad day?” He asks simply, knowing you don’t like to delve into your symptoms.

“Mhm, do you mind helping?” He shakes his head, grabbing your pants and assisting you in putting them on, and then tying your shoe for you as well.

“I took the wheelchair out too, had a feeling I’d end up needing to use it.”

“It’s alright, we should be fine.” He says.

After a little snafu with the taxi, the two of you arrive at the restaurant to find a good amount of stairs leading to your destination.

“Stairs.” The word feels tough exiting your mouth as you point it out to Matt.

“It’s okay, we should be able to find a lift or ramp, surely.” But according to the restaurant staff, their lift had broken a few weeks ago, leaving you no choice than to suck it up and tough it out up the stairs.

“No no, there has to be another way up. You have to have another way up, this isn’t accessible.” He starts getting upset with the restaurant staff, so you find a way to step in.

“It’s okay, I can climb the stairs.” He turns in your direction and shakes his head.

“Not like this, you’ll be hurting if you even attempt it.”

“It’s my fault anyways, I should’ve checked in to make sure it worked.

“Are you seriously apologizing right now? Bug, in no way is this your fault. Don’t apologize for something you can’t control.”

“Matty, I just… can we go home? Grab some takeout, the two of us?” He smiles so softly at your words.

“Absolutely we can. I’ll let the staff know.”

Everything worked out perfectly in the end. The two of you were gifted a complimentary dinner as soon as the restaurant got their lift fixed, and the night ended with the two of you laughing at some podcast while munching on Thai food. After washing the dishes, Matt helps you to the bedroom, changing you out of your clothes and into his own. Snuggling up together, his hands make their way to your back, easing the pain with the heat from his palms.

“Love you, Matty.” You say, pressing a kiss to his lips. He hums in agreement.

—--

Avoidance Behavior

“Are you not going to the gala with me tonight?” Your stomach churns at the question.

“Sorry, I’m just really tired.”

“You slept most of the day, are you sure you’re tired? Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine.”

“I can tell you’re lying, what is it? If you don’t want to go, you can just tell me, I promise I won’t be mad.

“It’s nothing! Just leave it alone.” His gentle smile turns upside down at your comment.

“It has to be something, you can’t just change your mind at the last minute. Tell me the truth, angel, I won’t be mad.”

“Baby… I can’t.”

“Why not? What are you trying to hide from me?” He kneels down next to the chair you’re seated on.

“Matthew, don’t push it. I don’t want to go to the gala.”

Something was off with you, he could tell. Even for the past couple days, something just wasn’t sitting right. You’d practically refused to leave the apartment unless it was for your job, and you’d stay wrapped up in his sweatshirts. You were extra stiff, even more jumpy.

He nods at you, silent as he gets up and walks to the bedroom and you can tell he’s upset. You slump back down onto the couch, a sigh escaping your lips as you realize your mistake.

A few minutes pass and you finally gather the courage to face Matt and tell him the truth, taking a deep breath before sliding the bedroom door open.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just that I can’t.” He doesn’t turn around, still rummaging through his closet to find a nice enough tuxedo.

“Matt, I can’t go. What if… what if something happens?” That makes him pause for a second before continuing. You sigh loud enough that he can clearly hear your discomfort for the conversation.

“What could possibly happen at the gala?” He phrases it like a question but you can tell his annoyance with you is growing as his patience with you is wearing thin.

“What happens when I go with you and I have a flare up? I can’t do those types of things the way you do. What happens when everyone starts looking at me and what happens when I can’t escape the situation if-” He turns to you and covers the distance between the two of you in about two stride lengths.

“If something happens I will be with you, Foggy and Karen will be there too. If you have a flare up we can leave but I want you to try coming with me. If you truly don’t want to then you don’t have to, but I’d like for you to be there.” He takes your face in his hands and wipes away the stray tears that escape.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try.” His smile returns with that.

“I’m happy to hear it, but you have to promise me that if you ever feel like that again, you’ll tell me instead of keeping it to yourself.” You nod and he kisses the top of your head.

“Let’s get ready to go.”

—--

Matt telling reader they aren't a burden

“Alright, anything else I can help with?” Matt asks after setting up your laptop by the couch.

“No, you’ve done plenty, thanks.” You say, shame seeping through your voice, just missed by Matt. He smiles at you softly and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be out tonight, but you know the drill, call me if you need anything at all. I’m serious.” You nod at his words, not entirely convinced that he’d be unbothered if you called for him while he was out. He pads into the bathroom, holding his suit to change into as you start up your laptop. A wave of embarrassment washes over you, watching Matt get changed to better his city as you only burden him more by making him worry about you. Your breathing grows a little heavy as you spiral into thinking, and that triggers Matt to step out and check on you.

“I can stay home.” He says, matter-of-factly.

“No! No, there’s no need. I’ll be fine, I swear. Besides, you made me promise to call you in case something went wrong, which I will. Don’t stay home on my accord.” He sends a quizzical look your way, trying to decipher whether or not you’re telling the truth, until he ultimately decides that you’re right. He puts his cowl on and makes his way to the rooftop exit, but before he leaves he tells you one last thing.

“Don’t work too late, I know you have a bit to catch up on but don’t strain yourself. I love you.” and with that, he leaves.

Settling back into your spot on the couch, you begin catching up on work. Typing away at reports, you don’t realize how much time has passed until you hear a grumbling low in your stomach.

“Crap.” You say, pushing your laptop off to the side and getting up from the couch. You make it to the threshold of the kitchen before your legs give out, an overwhelming amount of dizziness causing you to fall to the floor. Trying to regain your senses, you don’t see the blood dripping from your knee and elbow until you manage to push yourself in a sitting position against the wall. Managing to grab your phone, you check the time, just about on in the morning, two hours before Matt usually comes home. You weigh out your options, either sit on the floor bleeding until your dizziness goes away, or call your boyfriend home to help you. You sit weighing out the options for a few minutes, seeing if any of your symptoms even start to pass, but you’re forced to take the latter option as nothing dies down, and the throbbing in your joints grows. Dialing Matt’s burner phone number, you put the phone on the floor while trying to hold a napkin to your knee.

“Angel? Are you okay? Do I need to come home?” He hears your breathing, a tell that you’re about to cry.

“Matty, I’m sorry. I- it’s stupid. I got dizzy and fell in the kitchen and now I’m bleeding and I-. Can you please just come home?”

“On my way, stay exactly where you are.” He hangs up and you do exactly as he says, not moving until he gets home.

It takes about eight minutes for the rooftop access door to open to Matt gasping for air, rushing down the steps to you.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, honey, I was on the other side of the city.” He says, setting his cowl down next to you.

“I’m sorry, this was so stupid. I always call you for the stupidest reasons.”

“Hey, don’t say that. I told you to call me if you needed my help and you did exactly what I told you. I’m not upset in the slightest.”

“But-”

“Shh.” He presses a cold, wet rag to your knee and holds another to your elbow.

“I could’ve done this myself, I shouldn’t have called you off of patrol. I’m sorry.” You apologize profusely.

“My love, I promise you I am not upset. I’ll keep repeating it until it gets in your head. This is not your fault.” You nod, tears threatening to fall again. He gets up to grab the first-aid kit to patch you up. Once he’s finished, he scoops you up and takes you directly to the bedroom.

“You need rest. I’m going to take a shower and I’ll join you right after, okay?”

“Matty, I just- this was all my fault. I always do this, have flare-ups at the worst times, you must be tired of me.”

“Answer this, can you control your flare-ups?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not your fault. You are not a bother, you are not a burden, you are not a responsibility. I love you and will continue to love you no matter what shape or form you’re in. Do you understand?” You nod.

“Good. Now you’re going to get the rest you need. I’ll put your laptop away for you, is there anything you need?” You shake your head.

“Alright, I love you.” He kisses you gently, yet lovingly.

“I love you too, Matty.” He pulls the covers up for you.

Shortly after his shower, he comes to bed as he promised, pulling your groggy body into his warm one. He whispers his adoration to your half-asleep body, only falling asleep after he knows you have.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x male!reader #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fluff #daredevil fanfic #daredevil x male reader #daredevil x male!reader #daredevil x gn!reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x disabled!reader #disabled reader #marvel #marvel x you #marvel x reader #dev writes

[animeaandp]

Dusk

MHA Prompt

Pairing: Aizawa x reader

Note: I considered making this an entire series/multiple part story but decided to leave it as this for now. I've been working on so many stories at once, I needed to get something posted. Maybe I'll continue by doing a prequel/flashback/backstory type thing later. We'll see and then we'll know, won't we.?

Warnings: Character death, talk of depression and suicide.

Quirk: Energy redistribution- Can absorb or intake energy, then either redistribute that energy as another form of energy, leave it as is and simply redirect it, or hold onto the energy and use it for yourself until it runs out. The greater the energy intake the more difficult it is to contain, control, and change, and consumes your energy to use. Taking in too much and holding it for too long, or pouring absolutely all of your energy out could kill you. Is a great quirk for the defensive but can be used for attacks; absorbing energy to heighten your natural physical abilities as well as redirecting attacks onto others. You prefer using your quirk for the former.

-------

You're in class 1A and as much as Aizawa admires you, he has to worry. In order to help save people, your quirk requires that you sacrifice your own wellbeing in the process. There's a day he's called out of class and hurries to the hospital. During your internship, a villain was giving the police a hard time; causing mass mayhem, damages, and multiple casualties. You and the hero you're with are nearby and answered the call for support just in time. The villain's quirk involved explosions and before he can take out a crowd of fleeing civilians, you jump in the way and take the hit yourself. It's been a long time since you've taken in this much energy and after successfully managing to send it back to the villain; disabling him, you collapse. The hospital alerted the school who then alerted Aizawa. He could have waited another hour or so when the school day ended but not being able to know the details until then, other than you have yet to wake up, wasn't something he could handle.

Maybe it was just the result of your quirk, but you were the type of person who was always ready to throw yourself into the crossfire if it meant at least one other person didn't have to get hurt. Aizawa knew first hand that no matter how righteous a person's intentions could be, self-sacrifice was rarely worth the cost in the grand scheme of things. But that damn smile of yours you'd flash at him while swearing everything was okay, he folded every time; a literal ray of sunshine that he couldn't bring himself to snuff out. It's the same story when you woke up the next day to a disheveled Aizawa slumped over the side of your bed. He's ready to chastise your foolishness, slap you with punishments and consequences for being so reckless with yourself, threaten a suspension-"I'm happy you're here, Shota." "...Me too." He cradles the hand on his cheek, thankful that it's still warm, and bypasses the lecture to see how you're feeling. Your answer was all he focused on in these moments, that and your smile that always reassured him.

.

.

.

.

.

Today, that smile haunted his every waking moment.

.

His mind taunted him with it.

.

Possessed his dreams and thoughts.

.

.

was seeing this really worth it you're a selfish man how can you live with yourself this could have all been avoided it's your fault

.

.

Drives him to almost take the half a step that could end all of it.

.

The half step he found himself about to take as often as the days passed by now.

.

.

He used the cumulative pto he's built up over the years to disappear in hopes of either returning to a classroom where the seat front and center never sat empty; that this had all been some fucked up joke,

.

or, in hopes that the half a step could be taken in peace, now that people weren't hanging over him, watching his every move, holding him back from getting too close.

.

.

Whichever came first.

.

.

and Aizawa had countless pto days saved up but Snipe's gun only until they finished tracking him down.

.

.

He'd be long gone by then hopefully.

.

Your smile, voice; things he'd grown to curse and resent, would be gone.

.

.

The guilt would be gone.

.

.

.

.

.

Almost gone.

.

.

.

.

The bundle of swaddled blankets he'd be leaving behind, most likely being looked after by Midnight right now, condemned him to a well deserved hell of it's own design.

.

One that he doesn't pull this trigger, and instead guilts him into finding the nerve to live.

.

To live and continue pouring life into the life you left behind with him.

.

To one day explain why they didn't have a mother.

.

To explain that she was a great hero, who ended up dying a great death, fighting a great war.

.

That it was their own father who encouraged this, and was to blame.

.

.

.

"Shota"

"..."

"Y/n did not entrust you with y/c/n for you to pass your grief onto them."

"...I-...can't..."

"...We can."

.

.

Whether he wanted it or not; Present Mic slides the gun from his best friends hand, choosing the path of hell for him, then walks through it with him.

(y/n= your name) (y/c/n= your child's name)

#aizawa #aizawa angst #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #mha aizawa #mha angst #mha fanfic #mha imagine #mha #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #shota aizawa #shota aizawa angst #shota aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x you #shota aizawa x y/n #aizawa shota #eraserhead #eraserhead angst #eraserhead x you #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead x y/n #mha shota aizawa #my hero academia angst #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction

[bonebirds]

I don't normally do this and I honestly feel like it's... bad, somehow, but it's a pretty small circle here and idk, I just need some kind of validation or... something? Look I'm bad at this but I am really trying /o\ Everything is just fucked and internet hugs would be nice.

Work:

ignored my original request for medical leave in March

instead tried to PIP me in April (HR intervened and was like, why? All this employee's feedback is positive and they've never been an issue?)

ignored my request for medical leave in May

granted 2 weeks PTO for me to move in the summer but my director also included things like "you will never get benefits for medical issues" and "if you have to quit, I'll help you get a job somewhere else" (paraphrasing) but that if I kept asking for time off, I'd... be... in trouble, vaguely? I'm basically treated like he wants to fire me but alas, cannot :( He does promise to look into any employee emergency funds or help given everything outside of work sounds Bad. He never does.

I emailed HR in June to be like, "my doctor is advising I stop working because I am becoming physically ill from stress and can't function, I am having daily panic attacks logging into work, and btw, my manager has been emotionally manipulating me into working through this illness despite my doctor's documentation" and never heard back.

After I moved, in September they moved me to a team where they did not train me on anything, and my health continued to deteriorate until I just didn't show up for a week and my new manager actually helped get HR involved. I was at this point visibly in meetings losing my fucking mind and calling out former managers for driving this all.

work agrees to grant me paid medical leave but will get back to me about how much of my salary I'll collect on leave. I am given Sept 20-December 31 off.

They don't get back to me at all, and I collect a full month's salary in October. NB: we get paid once a month, at the end of it. This took 5-6 weeks of ignoring the process on their end.

9 days before being paid for November, I'm told I can burn the rest of whatever PTO I have but they will not be paying for this leave. They don't tell me how much that is.

undoing pretty much any and every progress I'd made on de-stressing and recovering from everything else, triggering a shingles attack, and I have zero savings, zero benefits, and zero fucking idea about what to do aside from try to fight for paid leave

I am putting this here mostly because it's too much to hold in my head all at once, ever, and I try to break the last 9 months down and just... like, my god? I showed up to work during all of that. I asked for more and more to do. I did the training and the meetings and the job, and... I am paying out of pocket for treatment because no one there gives a shit and everyone believes the manager I emailed HR about (since fired!***) because she never documented... anything.

So I look like I did nothing for a year and then just asked for leave to cover my ass.

*human trafficking**

**I'm not kidding and I'm really fucking tired of trying to kid about it or talk around it because just being like 'haha, life events" or "drama!" is vague enough I guess people are like "yeah I stress sometimes too" when it's more like "my organs were physically shutting down from stress and I had a complete nervous breakdown when I realized what was going on" :|

*** There's so many layers to this because we were friends before co-workers but she also spent months trying to keep me in a city where I was actually in danger and gaslighting me about helping with it all so she could keep me in the city, so, you know. That was going on too?

I'm not really looking for advice (I'm in the process of looking into what legal protections I have, don't worry) so much as... I don't know. This is fucked, right? This has just reached a level of fucked where I don't know how to keep trying. I was fighting for this job because if I could just pay off another, like, ten grand of debt I'll be okay enough to breathe a little, and I like the folks I work with and it's not a bad gig, and I quit a PhD for this place, and them paying this leave was literally going to be a saving grace I so needed, and...

Yeah.

If nothing else, like, I get to be mad about this, right? I'm trying so hard to actually let myself be mad without flinching from that feeling because it's like all or nothing, I am just defeated and crying and giving up or I am breathing fire and going for their jugular, and neither is practically helpful.

I don't know, man.

But yeah there you go, that's why I had to move accounts suddenly and lost, oh, 98% of my social circle earlier this year 😵‍💫

Jusssssst.

At least typing it all out and looking at it square in the face like that is, yeah. That's horrific treatment. And worth fighting. Even if it's just a few grand, or... something. I don't know. I'm just so fucking hollow all the time again. I was just so close to somewhere less precarious, emotionally and financially.

[catierambles]

Public Relations Ch.3

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x Charlotte Danvers (OFC)

WC 1184

Warnings: None

@kingliam2019 , @greensleeves888

lemme know if anyone else wants to be tagged

Clark stayed even after completing his interview with her and she ended up ordering them a late lunch, telling Melissa to order something for herself as well. They talked more in-depth about her charity work, having touched on her philanthropy in the interview. He stated early on that it would not be the hit piece that everyone else was writing and instead would focus on the positives about her. She was human, and a lapse in judgment did not make her a bad person. Charlotte was charming and funny, making him laugh several times as they talked and he found himself wanting to know even more about her.

Needing something to show for his extra time there, she gave him permission to talk to some of her immediate staff, telling him to let them know that she said it was okay to talk about her candidly and honestly. She needn't have worried. Everyone he talked to had nothing but glowing things to say about her. She was generous, both with her time if they needed it, and with their holiday bonuses. She encouraged people to work hard and only hired those who did the same as supervisors but encouraged them positively. If mistakes were made, a small informal meeting was called based on the severity and the problem was addressed honestly, with a solution formed on how to fix it and how to make sure it didn't happen again. She didn't punish people for honest mistakes, but she did expect people to own up to them when they were made. Tough, but fair, was the term he heard most often.

If an emergency arose that called for someone to take time off immediately, they were allowed to do so, no questions asked. Melissa had nearly cried when he spoke to her, telling him about the time her mother was sick and she needed to take care of her. Charlotte not only gave her the time off she needed but put in extra paid time off when it looked like she was going to go past her given PTO allotment. Then, she even went so far as to pay off the exorbitant hospital bills that had been racked up in full. They had been paid anonymously, but Melissa knew it was her, or at least heavily suspected it. Charlotte cared for those who worked for her directly, honestly, and earnestly.

When it came to her business dealings, Clark knew she had a bit of a reputation for being ruthless. She took no prisoners when it came to negotiations of contracts, either private or government. When new companies were acquired and absorbed into Danvers Incorporated, she kept anyone who wanted to stay at their current salary and gave those who wanted to leave generous severance packages as well as referrals and references to other companies. She didn't leave anyone destitute. Online reviews from employees working at the companies under the Danvers umbrella were very complimentary, most saying that it was one of, if not the best place they've ever worked.

At the end of the day, and he was done talking to people, Clark found himself admiring her. She was honestly one of the good ones, trying to make her own corner of the world a better place for herself and those in it.

"Productive day?" She asked as they sat back down on the couch and he nodded.

"Very." Clark said, "I learned a lot about you and your company. I think I've got a pretty good story here, something to drown out all those trying to drag you down."

"Well, however it turns out, I appreciate the effort." Charlotte said, giving him a small smile.

"Listen, I'm going to be busy the next few days getting this all organized," Clark said, "But after that, once the article is published, would you like to maybe…I don't know, grab lunch sometime? Or dinner?"

"Are you asking professionally or personally?" Charlotte asked, regarding him softly.

"Personally." Clark said and she gave him a gentle smile.

"I'd like that." She said, "How about dinner? Wherever you would like to go."

"My favorite haunts probably aren't as fancy as what you're used to, honestly." Clark said.

"Nothing wrong with pizza or good Chinese takeout." Charlotte said, "How about this? We exchange numbers and you send me a list of your favorite places and we'll go from there. I'm sure we'll be able to find something."

"Yeah, that sounds good." He said, "Sounds like a solid plan." They exchanged numbers and he sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I should probably get going. As much as I’ve enjoyed my time here, I have an article to organize. Thank you, Charlie.”

“No problem at all.” Charlotte said, “This was the most enjoyable one by far. Want me to walk you out?”

“I remember the way and I’ve taken up more than my allotted time.” Clark said and she stood as he did, watching him grab his overcoat that he had thrown over the arm of the couch and put it on, adjusting his glasses that he had put back on while talking with her staff.

“Hmm.” She said and he gave her a questioning look.

“What?”

“I should have my tailor reach out to you.” She said, “Get you into something more deserving of those shoulders.”

“I like my clothes, thank you.” He said with a smile, “Besides, I wear my suit underneath it and anything too…tailored would be too constrictive.”

“That’s gotta be warm in the summer.”

“Not really, actually. It’s amazingly breathable.”

“Where do you keep the cape?” She asked, “Is it like, jammed in there or something?”

“It’s detachable and folded up in my bag.” Clark said.

“Ever thought about going without it? It seems like a safety hazard.” She said, “Not to mention it would be quicker when switching personas if you don’t have to fiddle with it every time.”

“Not really. It’s kind of my maintained image.” He said and she shrugged with a small sound.

“Whatever works for you.” She said and grabbed the remote, turning the door and walls clear again before going to him, reaching out to hold his arms gently. “Clark Kent of the Daily Planet, it was wonderful speaking with you.”

“It was a pleasure speaking to you as well, Ms. Danvers.” Clark said, “I’ll let you know when the article is about to be released and send you that list.”

“Please do.” She said and he hesitated a moment before leaning in, pressing a light kiss to her cheek and catching the small, bashful smile on her face as he pulled away. Charlotte watched as he left her office, giving a farewell wave to Melissa as he went past and Melissa looked at her with a shrewd grin, tapping her cheek, letting her know she had seen his parting gesture. Charlotte made a zip-it gesture across her lips, and Melissa gave her a thumbs up, mouthing the word “Nice”. Charlotte just rolled her eyes with a smile, going back to sitting behind her desk and diving back into work and emails.

#henry cavill #clark kent #superman #public relations fic #my writing