#they are filling my prescription so i will get it tomorrow morning but oh my GOD how i have had to fight for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katesattic · 2 years

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Timeline of events

Monday May 2nd: ran out of my meds. Not ro worried, I can book an appt to renew tomorrow because I forgot to on my days off.

May 3-9: without meds. Forgets to book appt but all seems OK until Saturday (May 7th)

May 7th: starting to feel the effects of no meds. It’s the day before mother’s day so the store is busy and I can tell being on till will be bad for my anxiety (which I mention to co-workers and superiors and they are willing to accommodate). Despite anxiety, all seems well.

THEN THE POWER GOES OUT.

I think this is the catalyst for Monday’s meltdown. As I’ve had to go without meds for longer than this before and have never felt as bad as I’ll feel in the coming days.

May 8th: It’s Mother’s day and is pretty chill. I visit relatives. Only thing I feel is tired towards the last hour od us being there - I chalk this up to my introversion and the need to be alone to recharge.

May 9th: Dawn of the day of the meltdown. I called a clinic and tried 3 apps before I was finally able to get a prescription renewal from an NP. And the stress of that was relieved when I knew my prescription had been faxed.

But the pharmacy didn’t get the fax.

So when I went to pick it up and the pharmacy said they didn’t have a prescription for me, I lost it.

I stayed calm in the store, but walking back to the car I was very upset. How am I going to survive work tomorrow without my meds? Saturday nearly destroyed me.

My dad made some comments in the car about planning ahead but I wasn’t listening because I was spiralling.

When I got home and up the stairs, I threw my purse on the ground and stomped my feet to my room. Mum asked me something and it came out in a defensive yell-cry. The tears had come. And I broke down.

Everything felt hopeless (thanks to depression) and my anxiety was spinning the worst-case scenario. And I lost it. I was crying on the floor of my room, inconsolable, as my mum tried to help me out and talk to customer support on this app as well as talk to the pharmacy.

She got it sorted. But calming down after a meltdown isn’t easy.

I cried on our way back to the pharmacy, my dad went in with me for support and to speak on my behalf (as I was still crying and didn’t want to show my face because I didn’t want the pharmacists to pity this nearly-28 year-old having a meltdown and neading her parents to fight her battles, but legally I needed to fill my own prescription so I had to be there.

I took a dose and a half that day, and the day after, before resuming my regular dose the third day. I know you’re not supposed to double up doses. But, as my RN mum kept telling me, I was going through a pretty bad withdrawal, so instead of taking a full double dose (as my parents suggested, I took one and a half.

May 10th: Oh, I called in sick. I know during my meltdown, I said that was something I didn’t want to do. But the morning after that meltdown I felt bruised and beaten. It was as if I was hungover. I was so loopy that day too. Nothing made sense. But my parents were right, I needed to take that day to recover. And my memory is shot. I forgot everything. Mum asked me to make her a coffee, I ended up playing sims for an hour before overhearing her ask my dad to make her one - they found it funny at least.

May 11th: I’m not loopy anymore but I still call in sick. Despite not fewling beaten or hungover I am still very forgetful. I do still have a low-level headache. But I am willing to go to the store with my mum and fair well mentally. So I think maybe I’ll be OK going back to work tomorrow.

May 12th: Maybe I should have asked for a short shift to start? At least they kept me off till all day as they knew I wasn’t 100% yet. The morning was rough. At least I was in houseplants. But after lunch (during which I took an Advil and bought a Could Be Gayer hoodie), things went smoother.

May 13th: starting to feel normal again.

#chronicling my meltdown/breakdown/episode #personal #monday mental meltdown #how low-functioning i am off my meds during an episode #mental illness #mental health #major depressive disorder #anxiety disorder #ssri #take your meds

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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I kinda wanna fucking scream, so here, have a offline bullshit rant post.

So I’ve literally been trying to get my stupid fucking meds for over a MONTH now at this point, which I’m sure you can all see like, my mood is just wooooonderful these days. Not an excuse, casual reminder that yeah you do gotta take care of your own space so if my mood is dragging anyone down, I’m totes on board with blocking or unfollowing or y’know, burning me in effigy or something. Okay maybe not that last part. But still. You get it. And its not even that like, I need mood stabilizers per se, lol, so shout out to the armchair diagnosticians helpfully peppering my inbox still in their quest to oh so slickly be like ‘hey you’re a hot mess, take your hot messness away from tumblr’ like lol, didn’t ask.....nah, its mostly the perpetual lack of sleep and chronic pain issues that I have zero distraction from when my specific combo of meds isn’t able to let me actually weaponize my ADHD properly and power through that. Its a whole thing. Whatever. Just go with it.

POINT IS. So I’ve been trying to do this for over a month now, first obstacle was even just getting the money together for my refill appointment which is a whopping $150, because I have to pay out of pocket for mental health stuff these days because I had to switch my insurance over to something that paid out more heavily for physical benefits like my jaw surgery.....and because of the pandemic, and how many psychiatrists in my area and that I could actually reach aren’t taking new patients during the pandemic since most of them are conducting business virtually still, like, I have barely any resources for seeking out and trying new psychiatrist offices in the meanwhile that might charge less and I’m kinda stuck with the one I have because the last thing I can afford is to have like, NO psychiatrist at the moment, y’know?

So first I had to have that to even BOOK the appointment, which took forever because rent and food are a joy to accrue when you can barely manage to function as an actual employee of the capitalist machine ahfsklhflkahflakf, but so then I did that and like, got an appointment put on the books for August 19th. That was the soonest they could fit me in back when I paid them for my appointment about a week and a half ago. No, two weeks ago now? Eh, time is fake. ANYWAY, so that wasn’t gonna work for me, so basically the entirety of last week was devoted to constantly calling and trying to check in every other hour to see if they had any sooner cancellations I could take, because for whatever fucking reason, they just ‘don’t do’ a cancellation list wherein they call the next person on the list once they have a cancellation. Whatever.

So finally got a cancellation slot with a virtual appointment last Saturday night at random as fuck 8:40. Okay cool. Most of my refills are fairly simple, no real changes, but two are controlled substances so like, they have to do their due diligence and go through the proper protocols before giving me another prescription to one or whatever. Fine. Okay.

So I call the CVS they sent the prescription for my ADHD med to, the very next morning. One of the controlled substances, and the key med to like....making me functional instead of a rambling disjointed whirlibird of a thought emitter. Problem is, that medication is on back order. Won’t be in until Tuesday. Ugh. Okay, fine. Nothing I can do about it, because while the specific provider I spoke to in order to GET my refill prescriptions was taking an appointment the night before, the actual offices that schedule appointments and connect patients through to their providers was closed for the weekend, so I couldn’t even ask for them to send the scrip somewhere else.

SO. I go back to the CVS on Monday, hoping that maybe it came in early because not like I can do much else in the meanwhile. Course its not there, but oh well. I toy with the idea of calling to ask my provider to send the scrip to a different pharmacy (only had it sent to this one cuz its within walking distance to me, and since I can’t drive for medical reasons and Uber’s are expensive as fuck, just for errands, like, even though walking is sooooo not fun for me physically, like it is what it is). I decide against it because here’s another fun fact about this controlled substance....for security reasons, pharmacies don’t have to tell people over the phone if they have it in stock or not. Like, they won’t just say no we don’t have it in stock - I mean, they WILL say that, but that doesn’t actually mean anything because that’s what most of them say about that particular medication no matter whether or not they DO, and then just cite security protocols, so you have to actually GO to the store in question to ask them and even get a real answer to whether or not they even HAVE it in stock to FILL a prescription if its sent over. And no, the provider won’t just send scrips into several different pharmacies at once and just be whichever has it in stock can fill it - because again, controlled substance.

SO. I decide its not worth it to try getting the scrip sent over somewhere else, because I’d have to at least waste money on an Uber to even travel to various pharmacies and even check if they CAN fill it sooner than this one, when at least this place will have it in tomorrow. Its just one more day at this point.

Except then I go back on Tuesday. Oh sorry, don’t know why that other person told you we’d have our order in today, our shipments of that medication don’t come in until Wednesdays.

So I go back Wednesday. Success! They have it in stock. I go to pay, pulling out my goodRx coupon that was just printed out that morning, specifically citing the price for CVS at Target. The pharmacy manager says sorry, we don’t honor that coupon here for controlled substances like this one. I say: record scratch? He’s like yeah, that’s at the discretion of individual pharmacies, and we don’t honor that price for this specific medication, because we don’t want to attract customers only coming here to get that medication filled for that price. (This pharmacy is right at the edge of Inglewood and Culver City, for anyone who is familiar with those neighborhoods. The implications are exactly as they appear to be). So I’m like, what’s the regular generic price? He quotes me something that’s $180 more than the coupon, and thus $180 more than I have since I was focused totally on getting THIS amount ASAP, so I could get these meds so I could do more work and make more money. You see the train of thought. I’m like well that’s awesome, I don’t have anything close to that. Hey. Weird question. Why did nobody I talked to the past three days in a row that I’ve walked into this store in person to request this refill, like, mention this little tidbit about not honoring this coupon so instead of waiting for a backorder that would do me no good, I could have been spending that time having my prescription transferred somewhere that WOULD honor it?

He’s like, well did you mention to any of them that you’d be using a goodRx coupon for this particular medication? I said, yup. He said, you sure? I said well the specific process each time was I came in, I asked if this medication was in, they said what’s your name and date of birth, I provided that info, they said are you paying out of pocket, we don’t have valid insurance info for this on file for you, I said yup paying out of pocket with a goodRx coupon, they said *clickety clack of the keyboard* nope, sorry, we won’t have this medicine in until Tuesday, I mean Wednesday.

He’s like, well you must be misremembering or they would have told you at the time that we don’t take GoodRx coupons on this medication. I’m like, dude, it was you. It was literally you that I spoke to two of those three times, right here at the counter, in person. I’m gonna go ahead and trust my memory of those interactions and what was said there over yours since you don’t actually remember having talked to me two times in the last three days. He’s like, I gotta go help another customer. There is no other customer. I leave. Fun day for everyone.

So then I call around town to at least check which CVS will actually honor the coupon I have and the price that I can afford to pay it at. I don’t bother asking if they even have the medication in stock because I know its not guaranteed to be a CORRECT answer, but at least I can see who accepts this damn coupon. Also, reason I’m only trying big brand pharmacies instead of smaller, hole in the wall ones is because again, controlled substance, and I know from experience that the bigger brand pharmacies are at least more likely to have that med in stock whereas most smaller ones tend to run out very quickly as they usually only get enough for their existing/regular customers and a little extra.

I find a CVS five miles away - not walkable, gonna have to Uber. Call my psychiatrist office again to ask them to transfer the scrip, front office says they’ll send the request to my provider, who usually checks and fulfills such requests in 24-48 hours. I’m like okay cool, can I get a phone call to let me know when that happens, so at least I know when to check back to follow up if it hasn’t happened yet for whatever reason? They’re like no, the pharmacy will send you a text or call when they get the prescription sent over and you can take it from there with them. I’m like okay, but I’ve done this a bunch of times and know from experience the pharmacy does NOT in fact always call or text, so is there a certain time to follow up to inquire if the provider has already sent the scrip and the pharmacy SHOULD have it by now or if the delay is on the provider’s end? Front office is like yeah no. I’m like, swell.

So that was yesterday. I call the pharmacy (which I still don’t even know if they have the medication IN STOCK to fill the scrip even once they GET the scrip, and won’t until I can actually Uber out there, but one thing at a time at this point) at like 9 pm, they’re a 24 hour pharmacy, and they’re like nope, we got nothing (this is after spending an hour and a half on hold to even TALK to someone at the pharmacy). Called them again today at noon, still nada. Technically I have another 29 hours before the window in which the provider is supposed to send the refill scrip to this new location, before I can be like, okay so they still haven’t done it, can we send him a nudge or another request. The 24-48 hour window will only actually EXPIRE after their offices close on Friday meaning it’ll be Monday before I can even actually REACH someone again to ask them to send the scrip again, if the pharmacy hasn’t ACTUALLY gotten it by Friday night, and pessimistically, I’m not super inclined to assume that they will at this point.

I’m antsy, irritable, hungry because I don’t even know for SURE sure if the new pharmacy will ACTUALLY honor the coupon or say no sorry we don’t do that here either, whoever told you that was wrong, or if they’ll even actually have it in stock versus I’ll have to have it sent somewhere else AGAIN, so I have to pinch every penny possible in order to ensure I have the most money possible once my prescription IS filled in case the price is more than I expected again or in case I have to take Ubers there or further than I expected or basically....shit happens that I don’t expect. And this is what I’m basically spending all my time doing instead of working, because trying to get work done in this state is like....the harder I try to make it happen, the less it actually gets done, so I try and prioritize this and its roadblock after roadblock dragging out and wasting my time, and like yeah, I can post and shit while I’m doing this aka sitting on hold or walking around town trying to get shit filled because its fine if I ramble incoherently along the way in posts, but actual WORK work requires like....fucking coherency and succinctness and not having to stop and start every five minutes to call someone else, and oh yeah, being able to power through migraine spikes. And just.

I’m very annoyed about anything and everything to do with this shit. The hoops you have to jump through to even get the stuff that like....actualizes your hoop jumping ability, is just....*gnashing of teeth*

Anyway. So that’s my offline bullshit rant. Yay. The end.

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

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Accidentally Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 6 | Having a bit too fun with our charming Captain America?

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: As Molly and Chris become friends, Tom becomes jealous and makes a terrible mistake.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

Tom came home carrying an enormous bouquet of lilies and roses he purchased on the way home. He bubbled with anxiety and excitement. His talk with Benedict had done him wonders. Until he opened the door to an empty house. He called out for Molly a few times but got no response. There was also no note. He slumped in a kitchen chair. His phone buzzed.

I’m on my way home. Sorry I didn’t leave a note. Hope you aren’t worried. I promise I’m fine!

Tom smiled at the message. He didn’t know why, but something gnawed at the back of his mind. He scrambled to his feet as he overheard the door opening.

“Tom?” Molly yelled into the house.

“In the kitchen, darling!” He fidgeted with the flowers behind his back. As he stared at the floor, a wide grin grew on his face.

“Molly, I…” His face fell as Evans walked in behind Molly.

“Look who stopped by and took me to lunch!” Molly squeaked.

Chris slung an arm over Molly’s shoulders. Tom’s fist clenched around the flowers behind his back.

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing your girl, Tom.” Chris smirked. “She said you were out to lunch with Benedict.”

“Not at all, Chris.” Tom lied. “I’m glad you could keep my wife company.”

“Pleasure was all mine, pal. She is,” Chris gazed down at Molly with a look that made Tom want to leap across the kitchen counter and strangle Chris. “a pretty special girl.”

“Chris!” Molly smacked his hand. “You are too kind. Thank you for a lovely lunch.” She squeezed his torso.

“And don’t forget about tomorrow. We will find decent margaritas in this city if it kills us.”

“You’re on. But you know I have discerning taste when it comes to my liquor.”

“That makes two of us.”

Molly and Chris giggled. “Let me show you out, Chris.” Tom offered.

Molly smiled over at Tom and noticed his hand behind his back.

“What’s that, darling?”

“What?” Tom’s brows knitted.

“Behind your back.” Molly strolled towards him and peeked around Tom. “Are those for me?”

Tom pulled the flowers out. “They are. I thought you might want them to brighten up the house.”

Molly gasped at the beautiful arrangement. “They are stunning, love.” She wrapped an arm around Tom’s neck and pecked his lips. “Thank you. I love them.”

Tom leaned down for another kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth when Molly sighed.

Chris cleared his throat and hooked his thumb towards the front of the house.

“I’ll just see myself out.”

Molly pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tom trailed kisses down her neck, tickling her skin. She giggled as Chris waved and walked away.

“What has gotten into you?” she teased as she pushed Tom back.

“Just selling the relationship. We are newly married.” Tom commented, kissing her cheek.

“Oh.”

Tom’s answer disappointed Molly. Somewhere deep inside, that place she never admits to having Molly wanted Tom to want her for more than just a PR stunt. She wanted him to love her as much as he pretended to. But it seemed clear Tom was content on keeping things professional.

“That is the plan, after all?”

“Yeah.” Molly shook her head. “So how was lunch with Ben?”

“Good. You’re going out with Chris again?” Tom’s heart sank further down as he shelved plans to tell Molly how he felt. Evans ruined that.

“He is staying in town for a few days and with you doing auditions and meetings tomorrow, Chris thought I could use some company.” She went to grab a vase for the flowers.

“I bet he did.” Tom muttered.

“What’s that?” Molly twisted her head around.

“I said how nice of him.”

Molly smiled. “It is. He is so funny too! The stories he tells.”

Tom inhaled sharply. “Think you can pry yourself from the Captain to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Anything for you.” She cupped his cheek. “Now what would you like for dinner tonight?”

“Whatever you would like, love. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Molly marched over to him and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “That is the second time you have said something like that. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Tom pulled back. “I’m fine. There’s no need to fuss.”

Molly pursed her lips. “After you drove me to urgent care, filled my prescriptions, let me sleep in your bed, and took care of my every need for three days, you can bet your sweet ass I’m fussing.” She touched his forehead again. “Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever. Go lie down in the living room and I’ll bring you dinner.”

“But I…”

“Go!” She jabbed a finger at the door. “I will not have you getting sick on my hands.”

Tom held up his hands in defeat. “Yes, ma’am.”

Molly came in with a steaming bowl of a beef stew she whipped up with leftovers in the fridge and on the side some thick slices of a crusty bread she picked up a few days ago. A heavy slash of butter on top. She arranged it on a tray for Tom.

“Arms and knees up.” she commanded. Tom complied, tucking up his knees. Molly set down the tray and then settled into the spot once occupied by Tom’s feet. “Eat up.”

Tom blew onto a spoonful before taking a bite. He moaned as he swallowed. “That is exquisite, Molly. What is it?”

“Leftover stew.” Molly took a bite herself.

“You made this with the leftovers?”

“You learn to get creative with the spice cabinet.”

“Foster care?” Tom asked quietly, teeth crunching through the crust of the bread.

“College. Financial aid only goes so far. I couldn’t let food go to waste. I became famous or rather infamous in the dorm freshman year with what I could with a microwave. A modern witch, they called me.”

“You have certainly bewitched me, darling.” Tom commented without thinking. “With your cooking.” he covered. “You are a genius in that kitchen. I will have to learn some of the recipes before year’s end.”

Molly gazed up at him, pained. He was already talking about when all of this was over. Tom quickly changed the subject.

“Tell more about college. I imagine it was rather different from my experience.” Tom ate another spoonful of stew, warming his insides.

“Where did you matriculate?” Molly teased in a haughty tone.

“Cambridge.”

She let loose a low whistle. “You really are Mr. Fancy Pants.”

“With a degree in Classics.”

Molly giggled. “And I thought a tourism degree was useless.”

“Enough about me. I’m boring. Tell me about you.”

They talked about college, about how hard summers were when the dorms closed and Molly would couch surf while working summer jobs.

“I had amazing friends.” she whispered. “I am forever in their debt.”

Tom reached over and pulled her to his chest. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I’m not.” She snuggled against him. “Our experiences make us who we are. The good and the bad. I would have preferred an easier life. I would prefer not to freeze every time someone raises their voice, but that’s not me.” she sighed and the tears fell onto Tom’s shirt.

Tom smoothed down Molly’s hair. “I’m sorry to upset you. Let’s talk about happy things.”

“What are those?” she chuckled softly.

“How about this?” He stared down at her tucked under the crook of his arm. “Tell me about some of the craziest things you’ve seen as a bartender in Vegas?”

Molly laughed. “How about the one about the guy who peed on a blackjack table?”

“This I must hear.” Tom chuckled.

Tom woke up on the couch that next morning. Molly’s messy bun tickling his chin.

“Molly…” He groaned as he sat up. “… I have to get up, darling.”

Molly burrowed deeper into Tom’s chest and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her. He kissed her temple. She hummed and sighed. Tom’s stomach clenched.

“Time to wake up. I need to shower.”

She slowly woke and stared at Tom, realizing the compromising position of their bodies. Molly scrambled away, blushing.

“So sorry.” She sat up. “I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

Tom cleared his throat. “I still have time.” Tom sat up and fiddled his hands in his lap. “You could always come with me. We could grab some lunch. You can see all of my ‘hard work’.” Tom gazed at her hopefully.

“I…” Molly pondered the offer. “can’t. I would only be in the way. And I have plans with Chris.”

“Chris, right.” Tom stood abruptly. “We wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

Molly gave a strained smile. “I already committed. But we are still having dinner?”

“Dinner, indeed. I’ll meet you at the restaurant at 6:30 p.m.”

Molly stood and hugged him. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

There was a knock on the door exactly when Chris said he would come by. Molly opened the door to find Chris leaned against the frame in jeans and a henley. A devastating combination.

“Hey babe, I have an Uber and a list of five Mexican restaurants with great promise. Ready to find the perfect margarita?”

“I am.” She stepped out with a smile. Chris slung his arm over her shoulder. Molly leaned in for a bit. Just long enough for a camera to click.

“That first place was awful!” Molly howled in the back of the Uber as they made their way to the next place.

Chris laughed next to her. “I never knew they could make tortillas out of rubber.”

Molly’s phone buzzed. It was Luke. She switched off the phone.

“Anything important?” Chris leaned over to glance at the screen.

“Just Luke. Tom’s publicist. It is probably just something about an upcoming event. I’ll ring him back later.” Molly shrugged before tucking the phone back into her purse. “Now an important question.”

“Which is?”

“Strawberry or Lime?”

“Lime all the way.”

“A purist, I like that.”

Chris burst into laughter.

Tom struggled against his sour disposition through most of his auditions and lunch. It wasn’t until he got to the restaurant for dinner Tom listened to Luke’s voicemail. Which led him to googling himself for the first time in years.

“Fuck!” He hissed louder than he wanted to, drawing the attention of a nearby couple. He forced a smile and gave a small wave.

Molly slipped into the chair. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. I lost track of time and then traffic.”

Tom’s fists clenched. “Having a bit too fun with our charming Captain America?” He spit at her.

Molly blinked at him. “What do you mean by that? I was with Chris. He seems like a nice guy.”

“And you are such a friendly girl.” Tom continued to speak in a clipped tone.

“Tom, what’s wrong?” She reached out for Tom’s hand, but he pulled it back.

“This is what’s wrong.” Tom slid his phone over to her.

Molly scrolled through the pictures with increasing horror. The headlines read: Hiddleston Marriage on the Rocks? Tom’s New Bride Steps Out with Captain America Himself.

“I… I…” Molly sputtered, handing the phone back. Hot tears hit her cheeks.

Tom threw his napkin down. “We’re leaving. Keep a smile on as we leave and when we get home. No need to give the paparazzi more fodder.”

Molly stood in a daze and Tom snatched her elbow roughly to lead her out of the restaurant. As they walked outside, Tom leaned in.

“Wrap your arm around my waist and laugh like I said something funny.”

Molly snaked her arm around him and Tom pulled her tight against him. They both threw their heads back in laughter until they got into the taxi, where Tom’s expression fell into a cold mask.

Molly sniffled with stifled sobs the entire way home. Tom took no effort to sooth her. He was… cold and detached. They repeated the charade from the restaurant up the stairs to the front door. Tom had to hold back from slamming the door.

“How could you have been so stupid?!” Tom hissed, slamming his keys onto the table.

“Don’t call me stupid. I was just going out with a friend.”

“A handsome movie star!”

“Not unlike my husband! In fact, Chris called you a close friend.” Molly raised her voice.

“He would say anything to take you from me!” Tom yelled.

Molly froze and her head dropped, shoulders hunching forward. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“How else am I to make you understand, Molly?!” Tom continued to shout like someone crazed. He gestured wildly in the air. “You are forbidden to see him.”

“I want out.” Molly sobbed.

“What?” Tom snapped out of it. He glanced at Molly, only to see the damage he had done. Molly was all but curled in on herself. She sobbed freely, shoulders shaking. “Molly, I…”

“Don’t touch me.” She turned from his hand, reaching out to her. “Why is Chris different from your sister?”

“Because Emma isn’t trying to steal you from me.”

Molly chuckled. “You’re fucking jealous?! How rich! Chris is a nice guy! I used to say the same about you. I used to…” her voice trailed off.

“Used to what?” Tom sniped, tears of anger and hurt filling his own eyes. “Take pity on me? Poor Tom with shit taste in women?! Has to pay a girl to pretend to be his wife for the papers?!”

Molly reared back and slapped him. Tom held his cheek.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Molly screeched. “I’m leaving. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.”

“Molly, please…” Tom begged.

“Fuck off, Tom!” Molly pushed past him. “I thought we were…” she sobbed. “But I guess not. It’s my own fucking fault.”

“What’s your fault, Molly?” Tom asked. “What’s your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Molly cried, defeated. “I was clearly wrong about you.”

“Wrong how?” Tom’s heart shattered as she walked away, returning with a small bag.

“Goodbye, Tom. Don’t worry, I’ll be discrete. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your good guy image?” she sneered before heading to the door.

“Where will you go?” Tom grew more desperate as the reality of his actions set in.

“Away from you. Other than that, I don’t much care.” The front door slammed behind her.

Tom collapsed onto the couch and his head fell into his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK!” he screamed into the void of his empty house.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston angst #accidently married

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imaginedhaven · 3 years

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Reluctantly Rooming: Part Four

Link to Masterpost

So glad I was able to knock out another part of this work! It is seriously so much fun to write, and I’ve loved incorporating the prompts I’ve gotten so far.

I am always accepting prompts for this work in my ask box!

Today’s prompt:

“You broke what?!?” / “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

~*~*~

Aelin grimaced as she contemplated the call button on her phone.

“I thought you were getting along now,” Lysandra said beside her with a yawn.

“We are,” she replied, “but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to this.”

“Do you need me to call him?”

“No, that’d be even worse.” Aelin sighed and hit the button, nerves ratcheting up as the call began to ring.

“I was wondering when you’d either come back or explain why you never came home,” Rowan said by way of greeting.

“Wow, rude,” Aelin laughed. “I didn’t realize I needed to explain myself to you.”

“Aelin, you defy explanation at the best of times, but I doubt you’d willingly be awake at seven in the morning. What happened?”

Aelin glanced over at Lysandra, who gave her an encouraging nod. “I, ah, was hoping you could give me a ride.”

A gusty sigh crackled over the line. “Please tell me you didn’t wait outside the bar until just now because something happened to your car and you were afraid to wake me up.” In her mind’s eye she could see Rowan beginning to pace as he did when he was agitated, long fingers rubbing at his temples.

She laughed nervously. “I didn’t wait outside the bar, and nothing happened to my car.”

“Then why…?” she could hear the confusion in his voice even as the question trailed off into expectant silence.

“Well, ah, I’m not exactly allowed to drive right now.” Aelin bit her lip, glancing over at Lysandra again for support.

Before she could continue to explain, he let out another sigh. “What, exactly, did you do?”

“Rude of you to assume it’s something I did. I mean, you’re right, but I still feel like it’s rude.”

A sudden flurry of sound on the other side of the line indicated that he had placed the call on speaker. “I’m getting my shoes on, I can be there in about ten minutes,” he said.

“Um, I’m not at the bar.” Aelin winced, knowing he was unlikely to react well.

“Aelin,” he said, voice dangerously low and smooth in a way that made her knees weak even though she was already seated. “Where, exactly, are you?”

“I’m… kind of at Orynth Regional,” she admitted.

“The hospital?!” Rowan shouted, and Aelin winced and held the phone away from her ear for a few moments. When she finally brought it back he was still talking. “What. Happened.”

“Well, um, apparently I broke my ankle.”

Rowan’s response was immediate and too loud again. “You broke what?!”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine!” Aelin said, feeling more than a little defensive. “I just, the break is on the side I use to drive, and they’ve got me on painkillers so they won’t let me drive home anyway, and Lysandra lives on this side of town and she’s already exhausted from staying up this long so I don’t want to inconvenience her even more.”

“I’m on my way,” he said, and she sighed in relief. “I’m guessing your car is still at the bar?”

“Yeah. Sam said it’ll be fine for the next day or two, and we can arrange something between the four of us for getting it home later when everyone’s awake.”

The next few minutes were a brief exchange of the information Rowan would need in order to find her, and before long they were hanging up. “Guess you can get some sleep now,” Aelin said to Lysandra. “He’s only about fifteen minutes away.”

Lysandra responded with another yawn. “You don’t need me to stay until he gets here?”

Aelin shook her head. “I don’t think I can get into any more trouble than I already have in the next few minutes, you’re fine.”

“Okay, but promise you’ll call me if you need me?”

She promised, and then her friend was stumbling out of the room. Aelin relaxed back against the hospital bed and closed her own eyes, hoping to gather at least a little strength for when Rowan showed up.

If she woke up when Rowan came to pick her up, she didn’t remember it. Her next clear memory was being carried through the door of Aedion’s house and gently deposited on the couch, careful hands stuffing a few pillows underneath the boot locked around her right ankle. She struggled briefly to open her eyes, and when she finally did manage it he was looking at her, concern clear in the set of his brow and the tightness of his jaw.

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, grimacing when the sentence sounded terribly slurred even to her own ears.

“You must be exhausted,” he replied. “Sleep for now. We’ll talk later.”

She barely registered the feeling of him covering her with a blanket before sleep returned to claim her.

~*~*~

When Aelin woke up several hours later, she was greeted by a painful throbbing in her ankle as well as the sight of a glass of water and the bottle of pain medication from their bathroom, with a note beside them in Rowan’s precise hand. Let me know if you’re in enough pain to need the prescription filled when you wake up, he had written. The pharmacy didn’t want to release a controlled substance without your permission.

While she was contemplating the level of pain in her ankle, Rowan’s head poked out from the entryway to the kitchen. “Now that you’re awake, are you going to tell me how you did this to yourself?” he asked as he walked toward her with a small plate in hand.

“It’s really not that exciting a story,” she replied. “I turned wrong while we were wiping down the bar.”

He set the plate next to her, and she glanced at it, blinking when she saw perfectly even thin slices of apple and at least two kinds of cheese with some crackers. “I don’t know how you usually handle being hurt, but I can’t manage anything more complex than this the first day when it’s me. And I don’t think you’re supposed to put weight on that for the next few days at least, even though it’s in a boot.”

She carefully picked up one of the apple slices. “These are impeccable knife skills,” she remarked. “I’m not sure if I should be impressed or afraid for my life.”

“I do know where you sleep,” he said, voice dry but eyes bright with mirth.

“And I’m sure you’ve promised yourself you’d stab me once for each thing I’ve left out of place,” she grinned.

“Twice if it was clothing,” Rowan agreed mildly. “Unfortunately, I lost count of the exact number over a month ago.”

“Hm, I guess that means you’ll just have to start over at not stabbing me,” Aelin declared with a laugh before biting into the slice of apple with a happy little hum.

“I suppose you’re right.” Rowan carefully folded the blanket that she had dumped onto the floor at some point while she’d been sleeping, draping it over the back of the couch.

“I’m always right,” she replied before focusing her attention on the food he’d brought over to her.

Once she’d eaten, she moved to get up and at least carry the plate into the kitchen. However, she was met with a firm hand on her shoulder and a fierce glare as Rowan took the plate away from her. “You’re not supposed to be putting weight on that yet,” he reminded her sternly.

“It’s called a walking boot for a reason,” she protested, but he was already halfway to the sink.

“It’s called a walking boot because you can walk with it on once your doctor clears you to do so,” he retorted. “Your discharge paperwork says no weight on it today at all, and that if you feel up to it tomorrow you can try walking then as long as you use the crutches you came home with to bear some of your weight.”

Aelin blinked. “You read my discharge paperwork?”

“Only the care instructions,” he admitted. “I doubted you had, or that you’d remember even if you’d looked at them.”

“Oh.” And there it was, the same fluttering warmth she’d first felt when she’d come home to him having fallen asleep waiting for her. Had he always been this attentive to what she would need, and had she simply missed it because she kept misinterpreting the way he spoke? Or was he trying as hard as she was to change how they interacted? Honestly, she wasn’t sure which option she would prefer.

When she looked up again he was looking back at her, brows furrowed and frowning slightly, and belatedly she realized exactly how long they had spent in awkward silence. “I don’t remember if I read them or not,” she admitted, “so thank you.”

Relief shone clearly on his face then, only to be quickly masked by amusement. “I should’ve guessed,” he teased. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself.”

“Oh, well if you’re going to mock me I’m going to leave,” Aelin replied, moving once more as though she was about to stand just to see how he would react.

As she had suspected, he immediately set a hand against her shoulder to keep her on the couch, green eyes bright with a combination of irritation and worry. “So help me, if I have to tie you down to this couch I will,” he growled.

Aelin smirked. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she retorted, watching with glee as Rowan’s face did its very best to go pale and blush hotly at the same time.

“I hate you so much,” he muttered as he tucked her back into her makeshift bed.

“No, you don’t,” she teased.

Rowan sighed and turned on the television, clearly aiming to give her something to watch as a distraction. “No, I don’t,” he admitted as he found her small collection of classic films, turning to offer her a selection.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Aelin said without even glancing at the titles.

“Oh?”

“You can pick the movie if it means you’ll stay in here.”

Rowan shifted uncomfortably. “I wasn’t sure you would want me to.”

“Who else would I call if I need to get up and my obnoxious roommate won’t let me do anything alone?” she grinned. “Besides, I could use the company.”

As she watched, Rowan frowned thoughtfully. “I do need to try to get some work done, but I can set up in here instead of at my desk.”

“Please?”

Rowan left, but quickly returned with a small stack of paperwork and his laptop. As the movie began to play, she found instead her attention was more drawn to him getting situated in a nearby armchair and donning a pair of glasses she hadn’t known he possessed, muttering to himself as he became more absorbed in whatever it was he was doing.

This time when sleep rushed back in to claim her, it was because of the warmth and comfort she was surrounded by rather than the medications she’d been given.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows

#rowaelin #haven writes #reluctantly rooming

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wenevergotusedtoegypt · 3 years

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It has been a DAY, let me tell you people

After waiting for almost an hour after our appointment time at the pediatrician we finally got in and had the pleasant surprise of actually getting to see my son’s doctor instead of another doctor at the practice, he promptly diagnosed the ear infection and wrote a prescription for antibiotics, great.

Normally we use a pharmacy that delivers, but when the prescription came through shortly afterwards, they had no delivery windows open til tomorrow afternoon. Which like...no, not waiting that long to start antibiotics. This actually happened to me a different time, also with antibiotics, and that time I called customer service and they were able to squeeze me in that day. So I decided it was worth a shot trying that again.

They were not able to do that this time, so they offered to transfer the prescription to a different pharmacy so we could get it today. I gave them the information for the closest pharmacy to us, which was a mistake, because I should have KNOWN something would go wrong. At least some small minor thing has ALWAYS gone wrong every time I’ve used that pharmacy, which is why I stopped using it and switched to this other one. But we had a cranky as heck toddler to deal with, and going further out of our way to a different pharmacy seemed inadvisable.

That was all in the car on the way home. After we got home, my husband went to do some errands near that pharmacy and stopped in to see if they had the prescription yet. They told him to come back at 5:00. This was about 3:15.

At 5:00 I called the pharmacy. I said, “Hi, I have a prescription that was being transferred to you and I wanted to see if it was received yet.” The woman asked for the date of birth, which I gave her, and the last name, which I gave her. She said, “Yes, I see it, it came in today.” I said, “Great, when will it be ready?” She said that it has to be mixed so I said ok, when will that be done, and she clarified that it has to be mixed at the time of pickup so whenever we come to pick it up they will mix it and it will take about 5 minutes for it to be ready.

At about 5:45 my husband showed up at the pharmacy to pick up the prescription and was told they did not have it. One of the employees claimed that I called and asked about the specific medication, and coincidentally they had just received a different prescription for the same medication, but I never gave my son’s DOB or name and so they didn’t realize it wasn’t for him (which was framed as my fault). Which, first of all, if that had been what happened, that still would have been a screwup on their part? You should not confirm that you have received a particular patient’s prescription without finding out who the patient is?? But also, it’s not what happened. It played out exactly as I wrote above. I DID give his DOB and name and I DID NOT ask about the medication by name, mostly because I do not frickin know how to pronounce it so why would I try.

Anyway my husband keeps trying to talk to various staff for a while and Pharmacist 1 (of 2, to be relevant later in the story) then adds to the story to be that they have been trying to get in touch with the original pharmacy and have not been able to and that my husband should call them. So my husband calls the first pharmacy and they say that they left a voicemail for this pharmacy, which Pharmacist 1 says was not received. Pharmacist 1 then proceeds to give the other pharmacy a completely different phone number than the one publicly available for this pharmacy.

My husband waits a bit longer and then Pharmacist 1 tells him that he needs to call back the first pharmacy because they haven’t done some administrative mumbo jumbo with the prescription that would allow it to go through with the insurance. By this point it is after 6pm and the first pharmacy is closed. Pharmacist 1 tells my husband there is simply nothing they can do today.

By this point I was flaming mad and in full mama bear mode because my husband had been telling me about the whole thing and I couldn’t believe the way they’d lied about my 5pm call and were taking zero responsibility for things (if they had told me at 5pm that they didn’t have the prescription, we would have had 45 extra minutes to sort it out with the first pharmacy, but no, I was told we could walk in anytime and walk out 5 minutes later with the medication). I was also staring at a second night in a row of basically no sleep with a toddler in pain taking up half my bed thanks to this incompetence. So I grabbed my son and ran out of the house with him, met my husband halfway to hand off the toddler so I wouldn’t have to take him into an enclosed public space, and headed into the pharmacy.

At this point I had no hope that we were going to actually get the antibiotic today, but I wanted them to own up to the fact that they screwed up and at least make some attempt at rectifying the issue (like, “we’ll get on this first thing when we open tomorrow morning and call you the moment it’s ready” or something along those lines). Now, there were 5 staff in this pharmacy, 4 of whom could theoretically have answered the phone per their positions. Of those 4, 2 were men and so definitely did not tell me at 5:00 that they had my prescription, and 2 were women. One woman had a heavy accent. It was not her who I spoke to. So I basically 100% knew when I walked in the door who was responsible for this issue (this is not a place that has a zillion staff running around, and they close at 7, so it wasn’t a new shift from 5:00).

I waited in line and when I got to the front, to the woman who told me at 5:00 that they had the prescription, I said, “Hi, my husband was just here asking about a prescription for my son and I need to follow up with someone about what happened.” This woman acted like she had no idea what situation was being referred to even though my husband had left maybe 10 minutes ago max, and politely requested my son’s information like it was the first time she was dealing with it. She then told me they did not have his prescription. When I related the 5:00 call (without letting on that I knew I’d spoken to her - and now I was even more sure because I recognized her voice), she just said she didn’t know who I’d talked to but they didn’t have it, and refused to take any responsibility either personally or institutionally for what I’d been told.

At that point, Pharmacist 1 jumped in and related the same story she’d told my husband and told me that she couldn’t fill a prescription that she didn’t have. I told her that I understood that at this point it seemed we were not getting the prescription tonight, but what I wanted to address was the fact that I was told at 5pm that I could walk in and walk out 5 minutes later with my son’s medication and now he was going to start his antibiotics a day late. She continued to tell me over and over that she couldn’t fill a prescription she didn’t have, no matter how many times I reiterated that what I wanted was not for her to do that, but for the pharmacy to just take responsibility for the fact that they screwed up and because of that my toddler was going to have to suffer an extra night. This kept going back and forth with no headway being made, just getting more and more heated, until she got sick of talking to me and handed me off to Pharmacist 2. With whom I initially proceeded to have the exact same exchange of “we can’t fill a prescription we don’t have” “I’m not asking you to do so, I just want to speak to someone who will take responsibility for what happened here” “well we can’t fill a prescription we don’t have” “I KNOW I AM NOT GETTING THIS PRESCRIPTION TONIGHT, I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT HAPPENED AND RECTIFY IT”

....and then suddenly he’s like, “well if you just give me the doctor’s name and number, I can try to get the doctor to send a new prescription directly to us.” OH. OKAY. IS THERE SOME REASON THIS IDEA DID NOT OCCUR TO ANYONE BEFORE I HAD TO DRAG MYSELF OVER HERE AND TAKE THE TIME TO YELL AT ALL OF YOU??? Like, you know, when my husband was there?? I don’t actually enjoy yelling at pharmacy staff or just at people in general! This is not a thing I go around doing! In fact, I had never done it before and if the medication were for anyone other than my sick small child I probably still wouldn’t have! And apparently you had this super sensible, doable, easy solution the whole time but we had to go through all of this crap and me making a giant scene* to get there??

7 minutes later they have the prescription and 8 minutes after that I’m walking out the door with the medication. 🤦🏻‍♀️Pharmacist 1 rang me up at the register and told me that it was ok that I yelled at her because she would have done the same thing for her child in my shoes. People. We didn’t even need to do this!!! You literally could have just called the doctor when my husband was there without my ever setting foot on your awful premises! Why!!!!!!

Anyway then I FINALLY got home and my son was a cranky, exhausted, snotty-faced mess and we still had to actually get him to take the medication, which did not go well. I’m not sure how much he actually swallowed. Really need to figure out a new strategy going forward, but he has no appetite so mixing it into something is unlikely to work. So I asked for advice in a group and while I did get some workable suggestions to try, I also had a rando stranger ask me why he was prescribed antibiotics, as if perhaps her judgment might be that they were not necessary depending on the reason and perhaps I might weigh that more heavily than our literal doctor 🙃(I responded that he was prescribed them because our doctor deemed it necessary)

*my husband’s friend, who knows me as a relatively quiet, calm, and collected individual, was in the pharmacy for the duration of this encounter and I’m sure he was like WHAT THE HECK who knew she yelled like this??

#really more than a day it's been a few days #in conclusion if this ever happens again we are going however far we have to go to use a different pharmacy #🙃#and it's a good thing we're going out 2/4 yontiff meals because today was supposed to be my main prep day #and i did exactly zero cooking #and my husband has class from 9-5 tomorrow

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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The Surrogate - Chapter 10

The Surrogate: A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 1638

Rating: E

Warnings: Pregnancy, sex talk

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people. When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want. Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 10

Within a week of the first ultrasound, you started to feel a low level of nausea. By the seventh week of the pregnancy, you were wretchedly ill. It lasted all day and even with the prescription anti-nausea medication you could be set off at any time by any random thing. Scents were common. Anything from shampoo to coffee would send you running to hug the toilet bowl. Foods would set it off too. Some days you were lucky if you could hold down dry toast and saltines. One time you were watching a TV show and they showed someone cooking and that even set you off. You were off sick from work more than you were there and you were starting to get quite weak.

While there was no way to back up your hypothesis, you wondered if it was true that morning sickness was caused by the body’s reaction to the increase of hCG, you were getting that reaction more severely because you had no experience being sick.

Thankfully the three times that Natasha forced you to go into the medbay to check on the baby within two weeks, the baby was always fine. They’d put you on an IV for a while to get your electrolytes back up and then send you back home.

“Maybe you should just move in with us,” Clint suggested, as you lay with your head in Natasha’s lap and she played with your hair. You were into the ninth week of your pregnancy and they had taken to just staying with you constantly. Not always both at once, unlike you, they had missions to go on. Neither liked leaving you alone for too long though and often the only break you got from them was at night when you were asleep.

“That’s a good idea,” Natasha said gently. “We can take care of you better like that.”

You grumbled. It was already hard enough to keep your feelings in check. The hormones had amped up the attraction you felt for them even with debilitating nausea. Each time Natasha’s fingers ran over your scalp it made your whole body feel fuzzy and warm and the urge to lean up and kiss her was only really being kept at bay by the fact you felt so physically weak and a fear that if you did it, you’d throw up on her.

“What was that noise?” Clint teased.

You grumbled again and pulled your faux mink blanket over your head. Clint started laughing as Natasha moved her hand to the middle of your back and began rubbing it in soothing circles. “Why are you so grumpy about it? Does our place stink or something?”

You poked your head out and looked at him. “You drink too much coffee,” you said, grasping for any excuse you could give as to why it would be a bad idea.

“Thanks, captain obvious,” Clint teased. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“The smell of coffee makes me puke,” you said.

“Oh you’re right, that was a bad idea,” Clint joked.

“Clint could drink his coffee in the cafeteria,” Natasha said. “Or his office.”

“Probably both,” Clint said. “And I can get those bottles of iced coffee and keep them in the fridge and not drink them near you, for if I’m really jonesing.”

“And we can get unscented shampoo and get rid of all the bacon, cheese, and whatever else is setting you off,” Natasha said.

“Bacon too? Why don’t you just kill me now,” Clint cried dramatically.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you whined. “I just want to sleep.”

“I know, dorogáya,” Natasha soothed. “You don’t have to move in with us if you don’t want to, but I hate seeing you like this. You’re so sick, and you’re sick because you’re doing this amazing selfless thing for us. Move in with us. You can have the spare room and we’ll fill the cupboards with saltines and ginger ale. Wanda has suggested Millet and a ginger soup too. I can … get her to teach me to make it. And you can sleep and we’ll take care of you.”

“Isn’t that going to be the baby’s room? Don’t you want to set it up for them?” You asked.

“Eventually,” Natasha admitted. “But we’re planning to have them sleep in with us, to begin with, so we can set it up while they’re in with us.”

You grumbled again and hid under the blanket again. Clint started laughing again. “Is this what being a parent will be like? ‘Cause this is horrible.”

“Don’t,” you whined.

“What?” Clint asked. “You’re being a baby.”

“I don’t want you to see me like your kid,” you said.

“We don’t,” Natasha said, stifling a laugh. “Tell us what’s going on in your head will you?”

There was no way in hell you were going to do that. Not now. Not when your hormones were going off the charts. Chances were that in the second trimester you’ll be on some new obsession and the one where you believed you were in love with Clint and Natasha would drift away and you’d be into ice cream and pickles instead.

“Fine I’ll move in, but no coffee,” you said. “Or pizza.”

“What the fuck?” Clint yelped. “I take it back. You stay here. We’ll get you a nanny.”

“It won’t be for long,” Natasha said. “You can go have pizza with Bucky or Sam if you’re craving it. And in the books, it says morning sickness usually goes away in the second trimester. That’s only 3 weeks away.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint huffed. “Fine.”

You’d thought the pizza might do it. It wasn’t a lie. The smell of it was an instant trigger. You just hoped that Clint realizing how much he couldn’t have in his home right now would be enough for him to agree to going back and stopping by to check on you. Now all you had was that you didn’t want to. But that was a lie. You did want to. You wanted to move in with them and share their bed and have them hold you while you fell to sleep and comfort you when you were heaving your guts up. You wanted them to whisper ‘goodnight’ to you and ‘I love you’. You wanted them. And if the words ‘I don’t want to’ came out of your mouth, they’d both know you were lying and they’d keep pressing you to get to the bottom of it and you’d spill. You’d tell them you loved them and they’d tell you how they loved you too, but they weren’t in love with you. Then things would be awkward and they’d tippy-toe around you until the baby was born and when it was here, they’d slowly stop talking to you until they would just be a couple of strangers raising a kid you barely knew.

“Okay,” you said, sitting up and pulling your blanket around you. “How long for?”

“Well at least until the morning sickness goes away,” Natasha said. “But maybe it would be good for the whole pregnancy. Then when you go into labor we’ll be right there.”

You nodded and went to stand. “Gonna have to get rid of my perishables.”

“We can tell the cleaners to do that for you,” Natasha said, getting up. “Wait here, I’ll go pack some clothes. You can come back when you’re feeling better for the rest of the things you think you might need. Or send one of us back for you.”

You watched her leave the room. You lay down on the couch and Clint sat down cross-legged on the floor near your head. “I don’t really mind missing out on the pizza, you know?”

“Mmm-“ was all you could manage and Clint pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You want me to take you back to the medbay? Get you on an IV again?” He asked. You shook your head. The last place you wanted to be was in a hospital bed. “If you can’t keep anything down tomorrow, you should.”

You nodded your head. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you want to come stay with us?” He whispered.

You shook your head. “I do,” you admitted.

“You know whatever you need we’re here for you,” Clint said. You weren’t sure, but there seemed to be a weight to the words but your head was too cloudy to interpret it.

“I know,” you said. “Me too.”

“Well, you’ve already shown that,” he chuckled, rubbing your stomach. “When we get to our place you should try drinking some ginger ale and eating something. Even if it is just a saltine.”

“I will,” you whined. “Don’t baby me.”

“You can sleep in our bed if you want,” he said.

You grumbled and pulled the blanket up over your head. Clint laughed and poked his head under it. “You know you hide in here when you want something but you don’t want to admit it?”

“What if you wanna do… sex?” You muttered.

Clint burst out laughing and rocked back on his butt. “We’ll just do it around you,” he joked.

“Be serious, Clint,” you whined.

“If we wanna do sex we’ll let you know,” he said. “Or we’ll do it somewhere else. I got a big public place kink anyway.”

“Okay,” you said, rolling over so you weren’t facing him.

He leaned over you and rubbed your hip. “Okay, you’ll sleep in our bed?”

“Yeah…” you conceded.

“Thought so,” he said, patting your hip.

Natasha emerged from your bedroom with a suitcase. “Alright. Let’s go get you to bed, dorogáya,” she said. “You need your energy.”

You dragged yourself to your feet, pulling the blanket around you. Natasha led the way and you shuffled after her to your new home.

// NEXT

#clint barton #natasha romanoff #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clintasha #clintasha x reader #hawkeye #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #the surrogate

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beauty-grace-outer-space · 3 years

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I was up later than I intended to be last night because I worked until 6 (usually we’re off at 4:30 but my boss is going out of town in two weeks so we’re working extra to compensate) and then had to go to the store to get prescriptions for my parents (plus the stuff they wanted for dinner even though I had planned on making something entirely different) so then I went home, made both meals, did the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen before taking a shower and eating my dinner before my mom tells me she needs me to help her fill out the patient paperwork for her appointment so I do that and then this morning I woke up early to take my mom to physical therapy only to discover that my dad had literally removed dishes from the dirty dishwasher for some reason??? and that there was bacon grease everywhere so I basically had to clean the kitchen and redo the dishes in order to make my breakfast and pack my lunch (because I’m doing a no spending week) and then I took my mom to physical therapy and was like “ah sweet I may actually make it to work on time” only to get a frantic call from my mother that she was in the wrong place and filled out paperwork for the wrong clinic so I had to go pick her up and take her to a different PT place, and then about an hour and a half later I had to leave work to go pick her up and take her home and then I find out she’s got PT scheduled every Wednesday and Friday for the foreseeable future so I’m just going to be late for work and have to leave in the middle of the morning to get her to/from the appointments and I get it and I don’t begrudge her needing help right now but holy fuck that makes me a horrible employee and I’m stressed beyond all belief and I constantly feel like my chest is going to explode and like if anyone gives me so much as one more thing to do I’m going to burst into tears and I’m going to have to go back to the store tonight to pick up more things for them and I’m leaving early tomorrow for a therapy appointment for myself and on Friday for a dentist appointment I’ve had booked for months and you know how I made a dress for the ren. faire well it’s two weeks away and I don’t think my mom is going to be able to go and oh my god my jaw hurts and my chest hurts and I’m so tired

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lettrespromises · 4 years

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╰┄───➤ LettresPromises informs you : you have one notification. ❜

╰┄───➤ Letter object : The heart speaks freely on birthdays.

╰─➤ Trafalgar D. Water Law sent you a letter, would you like to read it? ❜

Letter object : ❝Law dreads his birthday, another regular day on the calendar according to him— but this year, you’re here with him, and you teach him that the hearts speaks freely on birthdays.❞

Author’s letter : ❝dear reader,

law lives rent free in my head and he will keep on doing so for the rest of his life, as he should!! happy late birthday to my favorite character in one piece, he deserves all the love in the world. sealed with a kiss, nikki.❞

Genre : Fluff. Warnings : Cursing. Word count : 1.6K

It was a miracle in itself that you had managed to convince Law to grant himself a bit of slumber, but don’t miracles belong to the world of fiction? Judging by how Law had woken up at the glorious hour of six in the morning to finish the work languishing on his desk and answer the hushed demands of his pen calling his name and begging to be used to spill more ink on his documents... Miracles indeed belonged to the world of fiction. He was, in a way, both the literal epitome and oxymoron of a doctor— the amount of healthy hours of slumber in his body was close to none, the amount of anxiety coursing through his veins was brushing the limits of sanity. He wrote the prescriptions as a doctor for his crew, but never did he once bother to take the own medical advice he gave to his subordinates… Ah! Acerbic poetry.

The harsh grip of his fingertips, which had already turnt white, over the edge of the mattress was a physical testimony that he was letting the guilt coloring his deeds a spectrum of all the colors associated to self-denial. Law couldn’t gather the strength to lay his silver orbs upon your frame, after all, he was blinded by culpability.

He knew that, he knew because this thought kept haunting his mind and kept taunting him. Each time his lids shut close, he could picture the outline of your face and the plea in your eyes. Then, when silence settled in his earbuds until it became deafening, Law swore he could hear you say « Please, Law, tomorrow’s your birthday— I know you’ve forgotten about it, but I haven’t. So please take care of yourself, just this one time, for me, please? » And the nuances of care embedded in your every word. And just like that you filled all of his senses, yes, all of them— even the touch.

« Don’t tell me you’re already up at this ungodly hour, Law. » your words crashed against the skin of his back in a whisper.

He was tormented, hesitating whether or not he should respond.

« I know, I know you don’t care much about your birthday. But just take this day to yourself, make it an exception. » your arms snaked around Law’s waist to metaphorically use his back as a human pillow, slumber enveloping your movements. « C’mon, doctor, you should know about slumber and everything. » you said, a yawn breaking suddenly the rhythm of your sentence.

It seemed like each one of your lingering touches couldn’t make things more soothing to him, and thus he gave in to the sweet temptations and promises orchestrated by the pacifying sound of your voice. « It looks like you have won this time, Y/N-ya. » this time only, his gaze landed on your half-asleep form and he secretly cursed himself for not having given in to his temptations earlier on.

He untied the grasp you held around his waist with the delicateness worthy of the touch of an angel, Law turnt around, every so slowly not to disrupt your journey to Morpheus’ arms and cradled your cranium filled with tonight’s dreams and set it on your pillow. Of course, your pillow was only a temporary placement, you slept much better on his chest anyway, when the rhythm of his heartbeat would synchronize with yours. Ever so naturally, and eagerness influencing his movements, Law shifted in your shared bed to lay by your side. Once he was settled under the warmth emanating off of your blanket, he allowed himself to grant your silent wish and place your head above his chest whilst the tips of his genetically given thin digits brushed the strands of hair caressing your forehead. He was bound to join Morpheus’ arms soon too, but not without voicing a confession first :

« You always seem to find a way to win, don’t you, doll? I might have to be stricter on you, I can’t have that stain my reputation as the captain. » Law hushed a snicker threatening to pierce the defense of his mouth and bowed his lips into a grin instead, « but who am I to refuse your love when it’s all I crave? Tell me, Y/N-ya, because I can’t seem to find the answer. » he kissed these words into your skin, just a way to imprint these words with the crimson color of his sentimental ink.

Law shut his lids close, and took the same path as yours to join you within the hold of Morpheus, your perfume accompanied him on his journey which never made him feel alone.

And what a surprise it was when he saw that your body was missing from your shared bed once he had woken up, or rather, once his body had absorbed a tolerable amount of slumber. The absence of your lingering smell in the air, the lack of the familiar warmth emanating from your body (and although Law despised how warm you could get at nights, he did miss this), where were you? His facial features bent under the panic, his orbs scanned the room for a hint of your presence somewhere on the submarine, somewhere, anywhere.

The crave to find you fueled his deeds and the urgency to find you was surely more important than putting a shirt on, he couldn’t, he had to— Law blamed this on having overslept, surely, if he had woken up earlier (and before you), these stirring thoughts would have never crossed his mind, not even once, and even hearing you drown his ear with complains would have been a much sweeter feeling than the burning sensation of his heartbeats adopting the pattern of a crescendo.

And thus the quest began— Law looked in his office but failed to see your frame, the bathroom, perhaps? Another defeat. Somehow, the mechanic room? Wrong guess.—

« Ahh, fuck! How was I supposed to know this was still going to be burning hot? It burns like hell! » Now, now, how Law was not supposed to hear your plea of pain? Thoughts took control over his body and he wasted no time going to the source of the sounds, and, of course, you were in the kitchen. It seemed like such an evident answer, and he cursed himself yet again for not having thought of this earlier.

And there you were, in all your glory, blowing air on your reddened thumb, already guessing that you were bound to consider this burn as a medal. He couldn’t help but allow his lips to bow into a grin which shone by its genuineness : « I think I heard someone in distress, what a shame, where’s the doctor? » Law trailed off as he was reducing the space between the two of you, and soon enough— your martyr of a finger was held like the finest of china between the expertise of Law’s digits, a martyr which was soon soothed by a kiss planted by the man himself, « Oh, correct. I believe I’m the doctor here. So… Are you feeling any better? » He wondered, the smirk on his face emphasized the loving mockery lacing his words.

« Did I really deserve to burn my finger after having baked this birthday cake for you? Talk about unthankful karma! Maybe I shouldn’t have baked you this cake in the first place. » You suggested, adopting the same faux mockery tone Law had previously been using.

« You stand correct, Y/N-ya, you should have stayed in bed with me. » He begun, planting a peck on your forehead, an old habit which never faded away, « but did I really deserve someone like you in my life? I believe my karma is pretty wonderful, if I dare to say. » he mocked, but genuine adoration underlined his words, a tone only you could catch. « Will you join me in bed? It gives us an excuse to let the cake cool down for a bit, don’t you think? »

« Mhm, sounds like a plan to me, I just have one thing left to do before that. » You said, already grinning at the shenanigans taking form in your head, begging to become reality.

« What’s th- Hmph! » And there, in this very instant, your thoughts had become reality. Your lips crashed on his as your forelimbs circled his neck to invite him to deepen the kiss. And, once more, who was Law to refuse such thing coming from you? His own tattooed arms found shelter on your hips until vacuity throned between your two bodies, and thus began the marriage of your lips pushing one against the other in an union of sentiments which exploded in a myriad of smaller pecks delivered all over the flesh of his face.

« Happy birthday, Law! I love you so, so very much even if you’re grumpy all the time and never smile, you’re still handsome! » You said, a peck interrupted each part of your sentence.

And just like that, the melody of Law’s half-hushed laughter connected with your eardrums, just enough for you to hear, as per usual. Law allowed his forearms to settle on your shoulders whilst his cranium was placed upon yours, giving him a perfect platform to secretly voice his silenced thoughts : « I love you too, Y/N-ya, more than you will ever know. » It was a voiced confession, it was secret, just enough for you to hear, as always.

#law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #law trafalgar x reader #law one piece #one piece

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endlessvoidsnkittens · 2 years

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Queue is going...it’s going to be going for a while. Y’all posted some good stuff, plus it’s really hard to get on Tumblr while at (!)’s coz they don’t have internet, so I have to rely on my data and it just gets...ehh.

I love the GF oreos but I think I’m one of the people that can’t tolerate them, coz every time I eat them they make my tummy hurt. But also I eat a lot of them in one sitting so that probably doesn’t help... >.>

My filling kinda hurts, from my cavity. It’s temperature sensitive now that they’ve fixed it. It wasn’t temperature sensitive before. I didn’t even know I had a cavity. I wasn’t having any pain. Now I am. Go figure.

Today was better body pain-wise. I slept a lot last night though and (!) let me sleep in this morning. Normally we try to get to our breakfast spot by a certain time to avoid the church crowds. We still made it today but barely. I was like “why didn’t you say something?? I wasn’t asleep.” “You were snoring, so yes, you were.” “oh...”

But don’t let me ruin their asshole reputation. ;)

Ordinary monday tomorrow. No counseling this week. Do need to call my psych office and find out what’s going on with the Vyvanse prescription. Think Mom wants to start on the room remodel too.

#my boring life

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purselover2 · 3 years

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Pairings Bucky x Reader

Triggers: heart condition, heart episode, being tied up, hospitalization,

Summary: Sort of a prequel to Drabble I posted on Saturday. After talking to @harlekin6 about how Bucky would find out and react to discovering you had a heart condition I wrote this.

No beta so any mistakes are mine. Feel free to let me know and I’ll fix them.

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Title: Heart Revelation

You don’t like to tell people about your heart. As soon as you do they start treating you different. Like you’re made of glass and your heart the weakest of the glass could shatter and take you with it. So you take your medication in private, fill your prescriptions over in Queens so there’s less chance of running into anyone. Go to your heart doctors, you have two, alone and deal with whatever they tell you alone. You get away with this easily. There are only a few things that trigger an episode and you avoid those. Being startled, being scared or shocked. Being held with your hands above your head for several minutes.

He had wanted to kick things up some in the bedroom and you were more than happy to say yes. He was an amazing boyfriend and lover and treated you like you were his most precious gift. So when he suggested tying your arms to the bed frame you hadn’t thought it through before hastily saying yes because the thought was hot and you wanted it just as much as he did.

Your heart was beating crazy fast, usually getting up to around 170 when the episodes started. Usually you could just lay down until it slowed down after all no one could feel it but you and no one could certainly hear it. Unless of course that person was a super soldier with superior hearing.

Bucky was just about to move lower when he felt something change with y/n. Her heart, he could feel it vibrating her entire body and he could hear it beating way too fast even for someone in a state of arousal.

“Y/n? Sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He moved off you and up to look at your face. Which was blood red.

“Arms. Down. Now.” You breathed out as quick as you could since these episodes always made it hard to talk.

Bucky didn’t wait for more words nor did he wait to find a knife to cut the ties. In one motion the split the headboard in two and freed your hands. It would have been sexy as fuck if you weren’t feeling like your heart was going to explode.

As soon as your arms are down Bucky starts rubbing them to get the circulation back in them. “Y/n? Tell me what to do? Can you talk Doll?” When he saw you were struggling to breath he finishes getting the ties off your hands and finds your shirt and puts it over your head. Picking you up heads towards his door. “FRIDAY alert the med bay I’m bringing y/n in. There’s something with her heart.”

“Done Sargent Barnes. I alway took the liberty of running her vitals and sent the information down to their thermal.”

“Thanks.” Bucky replied as he raced down the hall the elevator. FRIDAY had it waiting for him and you arrived there quickly.

“Put her on the bed.” Dr. Cho ordered. She had been in her lab working the weekend and knew there wasn’t another doctor on site currently. So hearing there was an emergency she had rushed over.

Once Bucky had you on the bed, Helen started giving orders. “Get the heart monitor on her. Start an IV. We’re going to have to get the drugs started to get it lowered.” She placed the oxygen mask over your face. “Afib and aflutter?” She asked to which you nodded yes. “Alright. Then you know what we’re going to do. Just relax and we’ll get it down.”

Bucky stood back taking it all in. From the question Cho had asked you he figured out that this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Apparently you knew you had a heart condition and had never told him. Helen looked over and saw the look on Bucky’s face and moved over to him.

“I’m assuming you didn’t know.”

Bucky shook his head.

“Okay. Listen to me. I get that you’re upset but she doesn’t need that right now. She needs to be calm and focused on her heart rate going down. Knowing you’re upset is going to negatively impact that. Can you put that to the side for now and help her?”

“Yes. What do I need to do?”

“Talk to her. Not things she needs to respond to but just talk to her. Hold her hand. Touch her. I have the IV started with a drug that should work to bring it down. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She walked over to the monitoring station on the other side of the lab.

Bucky walked over and sat down beside your bed. Taking your hand in his metal one and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Doc says she’s got the medicine started that’s going to fix this. Said I should keep you company and hold your hand. Didn’t have to tell me twice on that one. I love holding your hand.” He smiled at you. “I’m we need to take those days off we talked about and go to the cabin we found on that recon mission. You know the one with that huge hot tub outside? We could unplug and just be together.” Bucky spent the next hour talking about the trip. You were sure he was upset but trying his best to not show it. You were even more grateful for his presence in your life.

Soon Helen came back over and check the monitors attached to you.

“It went back down about 20 minutes ago and seems to be staying there. I’m going to stop the drip and reduce your oxygen down. I’ll take the mask off and replace it with the nasal tube so you can talk. Just remember to stay calm and no getting upset.” She said looking at Bucky at the last part.

“Thanks Helen. I’ll be okay.” You smile at her and she walks off.

Knowing the conversation is inevitable you turn to Bucky. “Bucky I....I’m sorry. I know I should have told you.”

“Yes. You should have.” He agreed. “So why didn’t you?”

“I don’t tell anyone.”

“But I’m not anyone y/n. I’m the man who loves you. The man who is supposed to protect you and keep you safe. But instead I put you in danger because I didn’t know.” He closed his eyes. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry. I keep saying that but I am. I don’t want you to know because when people find out they treat me different. Like I’m fragile. Sick. I didn’t want you to start and we both know that the second you found out you would have started over thinking everything just like you’re doing right now. Like you have since you found out. Tell me I’m wrong?” You held his hand tighter which made him look at you and you had your answer. “Told you.”

“Of course I’m thinking. Doll you have to take care of yourself. All the training and the missions. The sex. Oh my God. You let me tie you up. Did you know that it could happen?” Bucky asked you.

“Having my hands above my head sometimes causes issues.” You try to downplay it. “But I hadn’t had an issue in a long time and I thought that it would be okay.”

“Do you know how I would have felt how I would have reacted if something worse had happened?” Bucky leaned closer.

“I’m sorry Bucky. But I can’t be coddled. I won’t. I can still do training. Still do missions. I know my limitations.” You tried to get him to see your side.

“Do you see a doctor regularly?” He asked.

“I see two doctors. I have a cardiologist and a heart surgeon. I see them regularly and the both know what I do for living. They both cleared me. For everything Bucky. Even sex. They know I know what to avoid what could trigger an episode. I should have told you when you asked about it. I wanted it too.” You held his hand tighter.

“We need to talk about this more but you need rest. I was serious earlier when I said we needed to take some days and go to that cabin. How about tomorrow I call and make arrangements and we go this weekend if Helen says it’s okay?” Bucky stood up. He needed to leave. Needed to think and he knew y/n needed to rest.

“I would love that.” You smiled.

“Okay. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bucky leans down and kisses your forehead and turns to walk out.

Just as he reaches the door you speak. “Bucky? We’re gonna be okay right?” Your voice breaking a little.

Bucky hears it and hurries to your side. “Doll. Of course. Of course. We’re gonna be fine. We are fine. I love you. I’ll be back in the morning.” He kisses you again this time on the lips. “Now get some rest. You’ll need it for this weekend”. He winks and you catch his meaning.

“Yes Sargent.” You mock salute him and laugh. You lay back and close your eyes knowing that everything really would be okay.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x (y/n)#bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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fractallogic · 3 years

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It’s the Sunday night before the first Monday of a job I enjoy but oh boy we’re still getting Sunday night feels HARD

(Maybe because I’m going to go to campus to work for the first time tomorrow so that I can kinda orient myself and I’m just like. Wow. I have no idea how to do anything at this new school and I don’t have an exhausting orientation to help me??? Plis??? So maybe it’s the anxiety talking)

(Also goddammit it’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow and potentially also all day Tuesday, which is why I have never wanted to live in the PNW and on Tuesday I won’t be able to wake up very slowly and sit under my sun lamp!! Because I’m sitting in on a seminar because idk anything about speech perception!! And it starts at 10 AM!! AAAAAA)

So yeah anyway I have to remember that my building is like, on the very edge of campus, which is great for parking (cheapest parking pass baybeeee) and also makes me feel better about covid, because not a lot of people should be constantly mobbing in and out (lol k self), but is also almost as far away from the linguistics buildings and the library as I can get, so I have to balance my covid anxiety with my New Place New People anxiety and I would like to at LEAST spend the time from post-breakfast to lunch-ish there before the anxiety starts hitting hard… so anyway that’s probably the reason I’ve been sitting on the couch for half an hour going “uggghhhh I don’t WANT to go to bed I want to watch another episode of the office even though I’ve been yawning and prepared for bed for over an hour now”

So. Wow. The being around people thing. It’s pretty bad. I guess maybe I should try to get on a waitlist for a therapist again. And I need to schedule a body-dr appointment too because I need refills on prescriptions. And I need to take my insurance to the pharmacy next week so that I can actually fill all my prescriptions without breaking the bank.

But I won’t do that tomorrow, I’ll just put that all down on my list, because the priority for tomorrow is getting out of the house and into my office and finding the buildings and rooms I’m supposed to be in on a regular basis and trying not to freak out too bad. I’ll do morning pages in the morning while I’m in bed because that’s been nice. I’ll have breakfast. I’ll make some fishmug tea because it will be dreary and I need ANYTHING PLEASE GOD to lift my spirits. I’ll pack my umbrella. I’ll pack a stale granola bar for a snack. I’ll pack my computer and water and notebook and pens and planners and headphones. I’ll take some propranolol. And then I’ll be out the door, because that’s how we go to work and be around people.

YIKES. YIKES YIKES YIKES. the anxiety is bad. It’s not Sunday feels it’s just anxiety. Okay. We’re going to live. We’ll take a shower and hug the cat and we’ll live.

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skywillsometimeswrite · 4 years

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I lost the old, guess I need something new

Read it on AO3

Grian has lost his last contact, and has no glasses. Luckily, Cleo and Doc are willing to help him out.

“No. No no no. This can’t be happening. I did not just do that-” Grian gripped the sides of his sink, squinting into the dark brown of the bottom of it to try and see where the evil little circle of sight went. “I did not just drop my contact down there.”

He felt around the stained wood a couple times for good measure but groaned as he accepted the fact that he had indeed lost one of his last pair of contacts. Which means he would have to order some new ones from out of world and who knows how long those would take to get made. If he was going to do that he may as well get his eyes checked again, they had been getting blurry anyways since before the beginning of the season and if he waited much longer it wouldn’t matter whether he wore contacts or not. But that meant he would have to set up an appointment which most likely meant a waitlist that would no doubt span over a few weeks, if not months. That didn’t include the wait time for the contacts to be made.

Great. This was just great. He glanced over at the unopened side of his contact case and pondered if it was worth it to only put one contact in. With a hum he went through the motions, careful to cover the sink drain this time as he stuck the contact to his left eye and blinked to settle it into place. He stared into the mirror and his eyes shifted in confusion as they tried to decide how to perceive the world. Sometimes it was clear, other times it was blurry, but most of the time it was an awful mixture of both that Grian was certain would give him a headache in due time.

Even so, it was better than being totally blind so he would manage. He couldn’t stop working just because he couldn’t see the world in fine detail. Sure, maybe he should hold off on any delicate work until he could see, but there was plenty of stuff he could do like this. Like restock the barge! He could get all those annoying chores done and out of the way so he could focus solely on his building when he got new contacts. It was a flawless plan.

-------

It was not a flawless plan.

That headache came way sooner than he had anticipated, making his head pound as he tried to shovel sand into his shulker boxes while the blazing sun was beating down on him. Not to mention that everything got covered in the sand, and Grian began having a hard time discerning his shulker boxes from piles of the stuff. More than once he went to go sit down on what he hoped was a sturdy, solid box only to plop down on a grainy hill and sink uncomfortably into it.

He got through it though, even if it did take twice the time it usually would. Despite the throbbing behind his eyes he lugged his stock over to the shopping district, getting there just as the sun had set and leaving only the gently lit atmosphere of the mooshroom island to guide him. He would just drop this off at the barge and then go home and sleep. Then maybe he could rethink his plan regarding his eyesight. Maybe he could find a world with an ophthalmologist that would accept walkins. Or maybe he would just have to deal with only seeing blurry shapes for a while.

His thoughts were cut off by screeching from above and he whirled around, squinting up at the sky and grabbing his temples as his head screamed at him. He tried to look into the dark sky for the distinguishable features of the phantoms that were haunting him from his sand endeavor but couldn’t see anything against the solid navy blue that warned him of where they were coming from. Sharp teeth grazed at his scalp and pulled a few strands of his hair from it as the monster flew back into the air, leaving Grian to yelp and stumble forward, massaging the small injury. He remembered to pull his sword out, but failed to land a hit on a flying blur that scratched at his arm. After another hit by a camouflage attacker he decided to rush to his barge, taking shelter in the light underneath the ceiling. He sighed, resting his pain-filled, dizzy head on one of the chests.

“Oh hey, Grian. What are you doing out so late?” Grian slowly lifted his head at the voice, squinting at the blurry blob of muddled blues and greens. Alarm bells immediately rang in his head as he recognized the colors and outline of a zombie, and he pulled out his sword once more holding it in front of him. “Y’know, if you didn’t want to talk you could have just said that.”

He blinked a couple more times, squinting at the blob a little harder and taking notice of the bright orange hair that blended into the lighting so well. He lowered his sword, groaning at himself as he rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry, Cleo. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“I feel like I should be insulted. Is this how you talk to all your customers?”

“Sometimes, depends on my mood and who it is. You were literally after everyone’s heads, I think it’s only fair to be a little bit cautious around you.”

“I had everyone else gather the heads for a reason, Grian. But I’ll still take yours if you don’t want it.”

Grian chuckled, combing through his hair and wincing at the fresh scratch underneath it. “A tempting offer, not gonna lie.”

“Why’s that?”

He opened the chest, watching a piece of paper flutter down onto the ground. He picked it up and stared at it, waiting for his eyes to adjust to reading the scribbled black ink. And wait he did. He held the paper further away from him then closer trying to guide his failing eyesight. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the chest again.

“Everything alright, Grian?”

“I may have lost one of my last contacts a few days ago. And using only one has given me the biggest headache and I’m pretty sure my eyes are rebelling against me at this point.”

“You don’t have glasses?”

He looked over at her again, not bothering to even try to make out the details of her blob of an expression. “I well, uh, I left my glasses in my old world.”

“Like before you joined?” Her voice lifted in what Grian assumed was surprise. He nodded. “You’re telling me you’ve been using the same contacts for over two years?”

“Well, not the same ones, I had a couple pairs that I’ve gone through to get to this point.” Cleo sighed and he shrugged it off. “It’s fine, I’ll set up an appointment with the doctor I usually go to out of world. I can deal with not being able to see for a couple of weeks until then.”

“A couple of weeks? Why not just talk to Doc? He makes Joe’s glasses.”

“He does?” Grian had never considered that there may be someone on the server that could help him. “What about contacts?”

“I don’t know about that but I’m sure he can hook you up with a pair of glasses to hold you over until you can see your doctor about it.”

He nodded, smiling at her. “That sounds like it’d be great. I’ll try to talk to him soon.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m sure he’s busy and I have stuff I need to do and I don’t necessarily need to see-”

“Oh my god, you’re as bad as Joe. I didn’t realize people who wore glasses shared the same amount of brain cells. You’re going to see him tomorrow.” She walked over, looking down at him as she closed the chest and took the piece of paper from his hand. “And right now, you’re going to bed. I saw you getting completely owned by those phantoms out there.”

Grian glanced between her slightly clearer face and the now-closed chest. Even the slight movement sent a bolt of pain through his head and he relented, rubbing his temples. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll go see him in the morning.”

-------

Grian didn’t bother putting in his contact in the morning, heck, he barely got up at all. But a few threats of bodily harm from Cleo convinced him to get up and over to Doc’s place. She had already contacted him for Grian, stating how she didn’t trust him to go through with it on his own. He resented that remark, he would have texted Doc on his own. Probably.

He yawned, sitting in the grass outside the mansion he built that had been unceremoniously split in half, waiting for the creeper hybrid. Within minutes, a blob of green crossed his vision against the otherwise blue background of the sky and ocean and he rubbed away the remaining sleep from his eyes as he got up to greet Doc.

“Hello Grian. Cleo.” He took a second to unequip his elytra, hanging it on the wall of his half-mansion. “I’m fine with helping out, but you see the equipment isn’t cheap and we never discussed payment.”

Grian could practically hear the smirk in Doc’s voice and he looked over at Cleo who seemed unperturbed. She hadn’t told him anything about payment! Was he supposed to bring diamonds? Oh goodness, he didn’t want to have to give Doc of all people an IOU. He couldn’t imagine that ending well for him, glasses be damned.

“I don’t think we really need to.” Cleo sounded smug as she took a step forward and held out a piece of paper to Doc. “Considering you owe Grian.”

“He does?” Grian squinted at the paper, even though he wouldn’t have been able to read it anyways.

“That’s the paper that you failed to comprehend last night. Someone cleared you out and couldn’t pay for it, it seems.”

“Alright, fine. It’s only fair. But we’re even after this, okay?” Doc rushed through his words, moving past them to dig through a chest.

Cleo hummed in agreement with Doc, taking a seat on a wooden chair and leaning back. Grian glanced between her and Doc, blinking a couple of times. He sighed, dropping his shoulders and relenting to accept this as it was. “Yeah, sure. I don’t think I have much of a choice on the matter.”

He could only assume Cleo was beaming at him so he pointedly ignored her. Instead turning to Doc. “So what do you need me to do?”

“Do you know your prescription?” Doc didn’t look at him, examining a tool and whispering to himself before dropping it back into the chest.

“Uh, not off the top of my head, it’s been a few years. I have my last contact if that helps.” He thought about how his vision had been getting blurry and added, “I think it might be outdated by now though.”

“How outdated?”

“The last time I had my eyes checked was probably three years ago.”

Doc let out a heavy sigh, setting a few tools aside. “This is going to take a lot longer than I thought it would.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Grian.” Cleo butted in, now standing and walking over to Doc. She leaned against his hunched back. “I’m sure Doc is more than willing to help you for as long as it takes. Aren’t you, Doc?”

“...Of course.” Doc hesitated, his voice low and clearly annoyed. He didn’t shove Cleo off of him.

Grian watched the scene with a squint and an eyebrow raised. What was going on here? He knew Cleo was persuasive in her own threatening way (Grian had noticed this with all the girls on the server, actually) but he never expected it to affect Doc. Doc was usually the one doing the intimidating, but Grian had to admit it was fascinating, and rather amusing, to see it the other way round.

Eventually Cleo left, saying she had stuff she had to get done but she would be back to check on them as if they were children being left at a daycare. For a while, Grian and Doc fell into an uneasy silence as Doc was still sifting through tools.

“So,” Grian started, trying to sound as casual as possible, “what was that all about?”

Doc sighed, “I’ve been handing out a lot of IOUs this season.”

“Oh.” Not the answer he’s been expecting. “Why?”

“I’ve sworn not to mine any diamonds.” Doc stood up, stretching out his back, and closed the chest. He grabbed a few sheets of paper and started writing something on them. “It’s the G.O.A.T. way.”

Grian opened his mouth to ask what that even meant when Doc walked over to him and used his flesh hand to open his right eye wide. He recoiled at the sudden touch and unnatural feeling of creeper skin, but his head hit a wall before he could back up anymore. Then Doc was shining a light in his eye.

“What the heck-”

“Would you stop squirming around? I’m trying to help you.”

“By blinding me?” He asked, rubbing at his eye as Doc backed away slightly, only to repeat the annoying process on Grian’s left eye.

“Have you never had an eye exam before?”

“I have. The doctor is usually a little gentler and gives me some forewarning.” He glared at Doc as he turned to walk towards his tools

“Well, you’re stuck with me.” He marked something on a piece of paper, then took the other sheets he had. He stood against the other wall, facing Grian, and held up a piece of paper. “Close your left eye. What can you read off this?”

Grian did so, and squinted at the paper, turning his head this way and that. Despite this, he couldn’t distinguish any other color than white. “It’s a sheet of paper. I don’t see anything.”

“Alright.” He set that sheet down and held up a different one. “What about this one?”

This repeated for a few sheets, Grian noticing some color changes in what he assumed was black ink. He was able to guess a few letters, but it took about six pages in before he was able to guess anything right. The same happened for the right eye.

“Wow, you’re blinder than I thought.” Was Doc’s only comment.

The next hour was filled with Doc giving Grian bits of plastic to hold in front of his eyes, then trying to read once again from the paper. At least Grian knew that there was something written on that first piece.

Doc marked one last mark on his note sheets and looked at Grian, nodding. “Alright, I think I have an idea of your prescription. I can’t make you contacts, not safe ones at least, but I can make you some temporary glasses until you can follow up with your usual eye doctor. Sound good?” Grian nodded and Doc grabbed his elytra off the wall. “Alright, you stay here. I’ll be back in a few hours with the glasses.”

Without another word, the blob of green flew off and disappeared from Grian’s vision into the blue. And Grian was left there. Alone. He huffed. What was he supposed to do while he was waiting?

-------

“How long has he been there?”

“No clue.”

“At least it’s getting used, I guess.”

Grian blinked at the light colors in front of him, snuggling into the soft material underneath him. He had been sleeping just fine and he didn’t feel like getting up yet. He let his eyes close again.

“He’s awake. I think.”

“We could just make sure he is up, you know.”

“You know, this is almost a cute picture. Grian all curled up in the GOAT’s pink bed. I think it’d make a good sidebar for the Hermiton Herald.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Fully disrupted from his sleep by the voices that weren’t even trying to keep their volume down, he opened his eyes once more. Looking down he noticed a vibrant pink that he knew was definitely not his bed sheets. He sat up, coming face to face with the indistinct greenish-colored blobs of Cleo and Doc standing over him.

“Morning, Grian.” Grian could hear the smirk in Cleo’s voice.

“More like evening. Glad you enjoyed your stay.” Doc grumbled. It hit Grian like a truck and he knew he must have turned a bright shade of red as he scrambled to get out of Doc’s bed, trying not to mess up the covers he had been sleeping on if Cleo’s laughter was any indication.

“I was still pretty tired and it looked really comfy.” He defended himself, practically feeling Doc roll his eye at him.

His mechanical arm held out a small wooden box. “Here. Try them on, make sure they fit. I can make small adjustments.”

Grian blinked at the box as he realized what they were and he took it, opening it to reveal the black, rectangular frames. He carefully lifted them out of the box and fitted them onto his face, pushing them up when they slid down his nose. He physically leaned back at the sudden difference in his eyesight. Having adjusted to the natural blurriness of his world, having sight again felt like a blessing he had taken for granted.

One which Doc ripped away from him all too soon. “They’re slipping. Hold on.” He vanished downstairs.

Grian pouted, crossing his arms. Then he looked over at Cleo. “You weren’t serious about the Hermiton Herald, were you?”

-------

Grian was finishing dumping the last of his sand into the chest, closing it and adjusting the price on the paper on top. TNT was going to be more useful, he had to get ahead of the trend now. Satisfied with his work, he looked around the barge and took note of everything that was done. He had to say, he was pretty happy with how far his little shop had come.

“Hey Grian, glad to see you aren’t stumbling around blindly anymore.”

He looked over to see Cleo in front of the entrance to the shop, a shulker box tucked underneath her arm. He smiled, and offered a wave. “It’s good to be seeing again. I need to remember to properly thank Doc next time I see him.”

“Maybe you can give him a discount or something. I wouldn’t mind one either, you know. You wouldn’t have those fancy glasses if it weren’t for me.”

He rolled his eyes, packing away his own shulker boxes so he could leave for the night. “I’ll think about it.”

“The glasses look suits you, you know.” Grian looked up at her, eyebrows raised. She gave him a teasing smile. “They make your face more interesting to look at.”

He gasped in mock offense, holding a hand to his chest. “I- Why- What does that mean?”

“You have a very plain face. Actually you have a pretty plain everything, besides personality, I suppose. I think the glasses spice your look up very nicely.” She began walking away. “It does make you look like a huge nerd though.”

Cleo walked away laughing, waving a goodbye. Grian stood there, mock offense teetering on being real. Maybe he should consider wearing glasses more often.

#its not my best work #but i think its worth it #glasses grian #work: i lost the old guess i need something new #sky writes #grian #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #grian fics #zombiecleo #docm77 #i will write more with this idea btw #sky's writing week challenge

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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

Photo

Starker Next Door Neighbour AU

----

Tonys new neighbour is kinda weird.

Like, he’s not trying to be callous or anything. But he’s just, y’know. Strange.

They first met four months ago.

The apartment opposite Tony’s had been vacant for only two weeks ever since old Mrs. Perry moved to Florida to retire with her grandkids. That was until one rainy Tuesday, when Tony sighted his new neighbour trudging down the hallway, hauling box after box through the elevator, whistling to himself as he relocated all of his belongings to 7C.

Tony, on his way out, had first seen the guy trying to precariously balance a large box in his arms whilst trying to unlock his apartment door at the same time. Predictably, he’d dropped his keys and Tony had swooped in and picked them up for him.

“Oh my gosh, thank you” the guy had said earnestly, shaking Tony’s hand after opening his door. “Yikes, I’m such a mess. Mercury in retrograde, am I right?”

Tony had nodded, having no idea what he was talking about, and promptly left.

So, the new guy - Peter, he had later learned was his name - was cute. Fluffy curls, gorgeous skin, irresistible big brown eyes.

But he was, y’know, a little bizarre.

Tony’s not even exaggerating.

Every time he goes into the hallway he’s met with a sneeze-inducing wave of patchouli and incense, holding his breath as he passes, wondering if he is living next door to a Shinto shrine. Tony swears at night that he hears humming. Like, of the om mani padme hum kind of variety. He hears the distant clang of singing bowls and tuning forks at midnight when he’s turning in to go to bed.

He thought about politely telling Peter to keep it down but every time he knocked on the door of 7C Peter just beamed at him in welcome and asked him about his day with genuine interest.

Tony bought ear plugs instead.

Tony swears that Peter can’t be any older than he is, early twenties at the youngest, but he says words like radical, dude and oopsy-daisy, groovy. One time he stubbed his toe around Tony and said fiddlesticks. He seems to be in and out at the weirdest times, waving burning sage at the letterboxes at three AM as if it were the normal thing to do.

“What do you even do,” Tony had asked one morning in the elevator. Peter was carrying a crate full of succulents, biceps bulging with the strain.

Peter looks down at his crate of plants and then back up to Tony as if it were obvious. The duh goes unsaid but Tony hears it.

“I’m a yoga teacher and a reiki practitioner,” he says, handing Tony a succulent from the crate.

Tony blinks down at the small potted plant.

“Um,” he says.

“It’s an echeveria elegans,” Peter explains, smiling.

“Do you... want me to hold this for you?”

“No, silly,” Peter had laughed. “It’s yours. Keep it in the sunlight and try not to over-do it with the water.”

Tony leaves the elevator more confused than before, clutching the succulent all the way to his 9:00AM class.

-------

Tony can handle weirdness. Tony can handle eccentricity. He can even handle the new plant he absolutely does not have time to care for and absolutely did not call Brenda.

But what Tony can’t handle is the ear-piercingly loud Gregorian chanting that comes from next door one night whilst he’s studying. Up for two days already, his concentration is shot by the guttural singing, the lead of his pencil snapping against his notebook in frustration. It’s nearly midnight for fucks sake.

Tony had stormed over, enraged and determined, and rapped his knuckles on the door for a good two minutes before it had swung open, a smiling Peter giving him a warm welcome on the other side.

“Do you mind?” Tony had demanded. “I’m trying to study for my thesis.”

Peter looked taken aback, contriteness making his big brown eyes dewy and soft.

“Oh my gosh,” he’d said, extending a hand out, “I’m so sorry about that. Hang on, wait here. Please wait.”

So Tony had waited, expecting Peter to rush to lower the volume. Instead, he’d returned with a fist-sized, green and purple rock-crystal thing, presenting it to Tony with a grin.

Peter had placed it in Tony’s palm, using both hands to curl Tony’s fingers over the heavy, polished stone.

“There,” Peter says proudly. “It’s fluorite.”

“It’s what,” Tony blinks.

“For clarity and concentration,” Peter explains, beaming a mile wide. “Keep it, okay? Good luck on your thesis.”

He’d closed the door, leaving Tony with a rock in his hand and the chanting continued.

Tony bought noise-cancelling headphones to put over his ear-plugs.

He definitely didn’t place the fluorite on his windowsill by his bed or smile at it sometimes or run his fingers over its smooth edges.

Ever since it’s been a never ending stream of peculiar behaviour, weird conversations about moon phases, etheric bodies and third eyes while waiting for their laundry to dry in the basement, the effect of the upcoming perigee syzygy on the neighbourhood and guessing Tony’s star sign.

“Cancer, right?”

“What?”

“Your zodiac sign,” Peter answers, rubbing at his eyebrow, pushing the hairs askew. His nails are painted black.

“Gemini,” Tony answers warily, piling his underwear and bedsheets into his basket.

“Damn, I was close,” Peter smiles, pouring his own mixture of organic fabric softener into the washer. “I’ll figure you out yet.”

Tony wants to reach over and smooth down the raised hairs on his eyebrow.

He’s a perfectionist, that’s all.

But in any case Tony just continues to go about his life, continues to study, grade his papers. He visits his optometrist and gets a new prescription and wonders how he is going to pay his phone bill when he spends more on heating over the winter than he intended.

It's all fine, whale music and white sage aside.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but it’s kinda nice.

-----

One day Tony rouses from his slumber to hear loud voices outside, the bellow of protesters on the main arterial street below. Tony thinks nothing of it and pops in his ear plugs, keen to get another hour of sleep before he has to be at his class. Being a TA is the worst.

Later, Tony watches the local news, watching in horrified fascination as his neighbour is one of the many arrested for protesting at a rally of a visiting Republican senator.

“What’s with the pyjamas?” Tony had queried at the letterboxes the following day, roaming his eyes over the soft-looking Hello Kitty pants that Peter had been arrested and released in - and was still wearing.

The pictures of his arrest had been on twitter for gods sake. He was trending as #hellokittyguy. It was all his students were talking about.

“Oh, I’d slept in,” was all Peter said.

“You slept in. To a protest.”

“Irresponsible, I know. I’m already beating myself up, don’t worry.”

At this stage, Tony can’t even find himself to be bothered by it. He’s so used to the sound of the koto, the wind flute and kalimba from next door that it’s damn near unsettling to go without it. Tony’s used to the weird attire, from the ponchos and the sandals and the fisherman pants in mid-winter, the beaded bracelets and rose quartz pendants. He’s even used to finding Peter knocking on his door, asking for salt or milk or handing him personalised organza bags filled with small crystals and incense cones and charms.

And if he looks forward to their talks at the door? It’s only Tony’s business.

One night Peter sets off the fire alarm from burning rope incense. He says he got it when he went to Nepal, apologising profusely to the grouchy occupants who send him withering stares.

Tony doesn’t even ask, too busy staring at Peters lithe, muscled frame that had been hiding under the baggy clothes. The man is clad only in his underwear, didn’t think to grab anything when he’d fled to the emergency meeting point.

It’s three in the morning. Tony’s not even mad.

"Did you know your aura is gold and red,” Peter had asked that night, wandering over to him and accepting an offered a cigarette.

“No,” Tony yawned, taking a drag and wishing he was back in his own bed, fire truck lights flashing, dizzying and disorienting.

“S’nice. Pretty.”

Peter wraps his arms around himself and shivers, the cool night air sending goosebumps over his pale skin.

Tony quickly shrugs his own jacket off his shoulders and offers it to Peter so he doesn’t have to stare at the obscene way his nipples harden.

“Thanks, Tony. You’re a sweetheart.”

“I’m not - it’s not a big deal,” Tony grumbles. “You looked like you needed it, so.”

Peter smothers his smile in the collar of Tony’s jacket. Tony still sees it.

His stomach squirms like the first time he held someones hand.

“Do you want to have dinner sometime?” Peter asks, as they pile back upstairs an hour later after the building has been cleared.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony agrees, eyeing the dimples of Peters lower back and the crevice of his muscles where his spine rests. He’s got an ass that’s so perfect it deserves to be worshipped but Tony isn’t looking at it. He’s not.

“Tomorrow work for you?”

Tony nods, watching Peter disappear back into his apartment with an awkward wave and a smile. He’s still wearing Tony’s jacket.

If Tony goes back inside his apartment and jerks off to the image of Peter wearing just his jacket and nothing else, well then, no one else needs to know.

----

The following evening Tony knocks on Peters door, dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. He adjusts his glasses where they perch on his nose as he waits, sliding them up as Peter opens the door, beckoning him inside.

The interior looks very different to Tony’s apartment, is the first thing he notices.

Plants hang from the ceiling, there is a large afghan rug in the living room, all the furniture is mismatched, a sofa and an armchair with different patterns and colours, all the bookshelves are of different wood and sizes.

There are cushions everywhere, crystals and rocks on almost every surface, incense burning by the open window, stacks and stacks of books on the divine and lunar charts on the walls. Michelle Branch is playing unironically from the speakers on Peters bookshelves.

“I didn’t know what to bring, so,” Tony mumbles, tearing his eyes away from a copy of the Karma Sutra and holding up store bought cake and a bottle of red wine.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Peter gushes, kissing Tony’s cheek and taking the items from him and herding him onto the sofa. “Sit, sit. I’ll be right back.”

Tony sits, a little dazed. The spot on his cheek where Peters lips touched his skin burns.

There’s an old TV in the corner and a CD player straight out of the nineties nestled in the corner between book stacks.

There’s two magazines on the coffee table: National Geographic and Cosmopolitan. God, Peter is so, so...

Charming, is the word that comes unbidden to Tony’s mind when Peter bounds back into the living room, two glasses of wine clutched in his hands, the charms on his beaded bracelets clinking together. He’s barefoot, Tony notices. His toenails are painted black, too.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Peter begins, passing Tony a glass and sitting beside him on the sofa.

“Oh, god,” Tony winces. “You’re not an anti-vaxxer, are you?”

He didn’t even think about that.

“What,” Peter blinks. “No.”

“Okay, good. Sorry. Continue.”

“I’m, uh, kinda broke. I know I invited you to dinner but all I have is cup ramen and Corona.”

“Oh,” Tony says, watching at how Peter smiles sheepishly, “That’s okay. I like cup ramen. I mean, I’m a student, so.”

“Is that okay?” Peter asks, cringing as he casts a look over to his tiny kitchenette. “Sorry, I was so shocked that you even agreed to come that I couldn’t even think.”

“Mercury in retrograde?” Tony guesses.

“No,” Peter laughs, looking at his hands bashfully. “You’re just really cool and handsome and sophisticated and I don’t know. It wasn’t in my tarot, so.”

It wasn’t in his tarot, Tony repeats in his mind, wondering when exactly he hit his head and found all of this attractive. He’s a man of science, alright?

“You been crushin’ on me, huh?” Tony asks, shifting closer until their thighs and shoulders touch.

“Yeah. You make me kinda nervous.”

“Well your tarot can’t tell you that I think you’re beautiful,” Tony reasons, sipping his wine. “Or delightful. Or that I think the way you swing your legs when you’re waiting for your drying is adorable.”

The flush that comes over Peters cheeks makes Tony’s heart beat faster.

“You really think that?”

“Against my better judgement,” Tony admits.

“What was it that did you in?” Peter asks, leaning in, drawing his knees up and looking like a pleased cat. “Was it the green fluorite? The rutilated quartz?”

Tony leans in to bridge the gap, pressing his lips against Peter’s in a sweet kiss. He tastes like coffee and wine and everything smells like lemongrass and palo santo.

“Just your cute, quirky self,” Tony says against his lips. “And maybe the blue calcite.”

Peter laughs against his mouth. “I knew it.”

---

Later, when Tony is curled up against Peter’s bare chest, still catching his breath, Peter asks him on a second date.

“There’s a climate change rally at the State Library this weekend, if you’re interested. We could have matching signs and drink Corona after.”

“Baby,” Tony yawns, eyes heavy, “you do that thing with your tongue again and I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Sweet,” Peter says, pressing a kiss into Tony’s hair.

Yeah, Tony thinks as he drifts off, it is.

#starker #starker fic #next door neighbour au #fluff #no shade on peter #peter is me #tony x peter #spideriron

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